Another New Reality

One of the things I talked about with my doctor last month was my periods. They have been just crazy the last few months. They have always been sporadic, but when I had them, they followed a consistent trend. Flow started light, built up for a couple days, died back down, and that was the end. They are not like that anymore. One day will be medium and the next there is nothing. Day three could be heavy bleeding that I can barely keep up with in the hygiene department, and the next back to medium. My four to five days is now four to seven. 

I'm 47. Menopause is just over the horizon. I've lost 63 pounds and that is guaranteed to screw with your hormones. I didn't know if one of these things was the issue or if there was something else and if there was anything I could do about it either way. So, I asked.

Dr. Ryan agreed that both being pre-menopausal and having lost a significant amount of weight could have an impact. She thought that a change in my birth control might help, but she wanted to  check some other things first. 

Step 1: Blood work. She was pretty sure she was just gonna see the normal ranges for a 47 year old woman. She was right.

Step 2: Wait. Thank goodness, I only had to wait a day. I had blood work on Monday and got results on Tuesday. Everything was as expect and there was nothing bad to report.

Step 3: Sonogram. The internal one. Ugh. The tech was friendly and efficient and make the awkwardness as comfortable as possible. But still. Ick. 

Step 4: Wait. Again, only a day wait. Sonogram on Thursday, results on Friday. Lots of fibroids and one "large mass" roughly 8cm x 7cm x 6 cm. They said it could just be a big fibroid, but they couldn't tell for sure. They referred me to an OBGYN.

Step 4.5: Cry. I mean, sure, it's probably nothing, and this step did not move the process forward, but it was completely necessary. I mean, what if it's NOT nothing? Plenty of people have gotten that answer and there has been a lot of that big, scary C-word in my mom's family. All right. Settle down. Focus. Move forward.

Step 5: Wait some more. It took about a week before I got my callback to schedule an appointment. The whole time, I'm stressing over both what it going on and what to expect in this appointment, both physically, and emotionally. 

Step 6: Internal exam, including swabs and a joyful experience called and endometrial aspiration. Basically, they use a needleless syringe to create a vacuum to rip out chunks of the uterine lining. I could have waited some more for this. It hurt. I was glad Dan was there to hold my hand, because it was a struggle to not be all squirmy and continue to let her get on with it. I was SO glad when that was over, although I was still pretty crampy for the rest of the day. 

I learned a few interesting tidbits this day. A healthy uterus is about 80-100 ml. Mine was not. That "large mass?" It was 336 ml. All by itself! My uterus? 720 ml. It has to go. Wait! What? Guess who didn't see that coming? I mean, my mom had a hysterectomy around 60 and my little sister had one at 35. I had some symptoms shared with each of them. Somehow, it never occurred to me that this might be a thing. I was blindsided! Seems like being unprepared for that was my own fault. Denial was definitely there, even if it was not a conscious effort. Tears. Not a lot in front of the doctor, but yeah. They were a thing. 

Step 6.5: Cry at home. I hate surgery. I wake up disoriented and scared. I puke all day. They are going to remove the "seat of my womanhood," as Barb has referred to it. How do I feel about all this? I am still not sure. I mean, logically, I do NOT want more kids. I don't need it for anything else that I'm aware of. What's the big deal? I guess it just is. I mean, it's a chunk of me that they are going to rip out. But really, it's not even being nice to me, but I wouldn't have Payton or Livi without it. We kinda have a history, you know? 

Barb and Anne are already planning to bring some meals while I am laid up. Barb says they will do our laundry. DJ picked the mean/kind job of helping me think of ways we can cut the budget to save up money to cover the time I'm out of work.

Questions I have that make planning difficult:

    1. When will my surgery be?

    2. How long will I be off work?

    3. Do I have short term disability?

    4. How much will it pay me?

DJ is a plan for the worst kind of guy. He says, plan for two months with no pay. Start saving NOW. Quit buying bags of ice from Sonic to make tea and just use cold water. That saves almost $50 a month. Sometimes, I don't like his ideas. Mostly, I don't like them when he is right. I need that kind of info right now if we are going to get through this financially, but I sure don't like this kind of help. But I am so thankful to have friends mean enough to push me when I need it. Anne has also informed me that I am to turn over the doctor's instructions so that they can hold me accountable to doing the things I am supposed to be doing and NOT pushing more than I should. I am a lucky lady.

Step 7: What? Wait? Really? *sigh* Ok. More waiting. Wait for results of biopsy and labs. Depending on the results, we will plan surgery. If there are no malignancies, Dr. Riggs will do the surgery at the local hospital and it will take 6-8 weeks to schedule. If there are malignancies, she will refer me to a GYN oncologist and they will get me in for surgery much more quickly. 

It was only a couple of days before I got the call that there were no malignancies. Whew! No cancer and no more referrals. At least that is good news.

Step 7.5: Cry some more. Why? This was good new, right? Sure. Cry for relief. Cry for all the unknowns. I can plan to get through things, but I have trouble planning for vagueness. All the little things are starting to occur to me. My bed is tall. I have to stretch my left knee up onto the mattress and have my right foot on tippy toes to get up there. I don't wanna sleep on the couch until I can climb into my bed again. How long will that be? I can't buy a step stool. I can't find anything with a high enough weight limit. DJ said he could build me one. He said he could do that IF I wanted to trust my life to his workmanship. When he puts it that way, I kinda have to think about it... But even on the couch, it sucks you in and it's work to get up. Like doing crunches. And about crunches, I'm still going to have to wrap my legs every day. That's hard to do with my tummy in the way and it's going to hurt. If I am not physically capable of doing that for a week or two, that could be a big problem. Also, when I have to pump my legs every day, my tummy gets squeezed by the inflatable pants, too. Will I be able to handle that? If I just pump my legs, won't that just push the fluid all up into my tummy and add to the bloating that is going to be a side effect of the surgery?

This shit is starting to get really complicated. And scary. And frustrating. And the freak-out is getting close.

Step 8: Guess what? More waiting. I am now waiting for the robotic scheduler to call me to schedule the surgery. She is not a robot, but the doctor will be using a robot for the surgery. She was supposed to call last week. She did not. I am calling tomorrow morning. I'm also calling our benefits people to see if I can find out about the short term disability and how that will work. I'm also calling to cancel our unlimited monthly car washes, because you can't cancel that online. 

Aside from all that, Momma finally got all the life insurance straightened out and has mailed me the documents to apply for medicaid for Daddy so that is in place at the point when he needs to be moved to a nursing home. And I'm still working on catching up the budget and Dan and Livi and I have agreed to some pretty big cuts. 

I'm not getting enough sleep and I'm still overwhelmed with my to-do list. And I'm scared. But we will get through this. I hope.