Broken. Just broken. For now.

I guess my goal lately is to go at least a month in between posts. Not intentionally but it keeps happening. Pretty much health wise things are chugging along. Got another scope by a different doc to tell me the same thing as last time. Severe ulceration still. Some nasty fissures causing pain. Muscle spasms are back to piss me off. Couple that with the abdominal pain from my engorged fallopian tube and I'm just in pain daily. Basically nonstop. Discomfort in so many areas. There are days I'm not leaving the house unless necessary. My pain pills dull it and I'm content to be under my electric blanket and zoning out. Some days it takes everything out of me to go to class. Running errands wipes me out for the day. It's just so pathetic and ridiculous. I had to take Daughter #1 to the doctor and it struck me how much time in the last four years has been eaten up by my medical issues. I've put in some solid time. Time I could be traveling. Reading. Hell, vacuuming would be better. Ok, maybe not, but it's just such bullshit. I was driving along thinking what do I have to show for four years? Let's not reduce the importance of having my child, naturally, but really. Not much. A lot of laying on my ass with zero drive or with too much pain to accomplish anything. I got pissed. Just that angry, upset pissed and the tears just come.
I'm 36. My time has slipped through my fingers. So much of it without any joy in it. Just days of pain. Hospitals. Doctors. Driving to doctors. Filling scripts. Getting tests. I've fucking had it. There's nothing I can do either but keep going and keep thinking that there will be a point where I'm just real and whole and healthy and not broken anymore.
As shitty as it's all been, that is still MY intention. I don't look at myself as this sickly, forever disabled person who will be trapped with this crap forever. My reality speaks to the contrary but maybe I'm an idiot. I do feel broken many, many days. It makes me sad. It's this weird feeling of losing life. Your 30s are FAR from old. This is prime time baby, and I don't have the body to make it happen. That pisses me off more than I can describe. You know when you get so drunk on Friday night and you sleep all day Saturday and all of a sudden it's Sunday and you are pissed that you basically missed your whole weekend? Well, that's my life. Saturday night I went out for a friend's birthday. I laid around all day to conserve energy so I would actually make it out(Yes, if I had so much as gone out to eat, run to the store etc... there would have been a good chance it just would have used my reserves and I would have bailed). We met for food(I didn't eat. Just not worth the risk) and then went to a bar with a DJ and a band for 80s night. We all had crimped hair and looked crazy and it was fun. We get there and the music was just so great. Those of you who know my drinking/partying/out all night/dance all night days know I loved it and it was my favorite thing to do. We would go dance for hours! Well, seriously two songs in and I'm lightheaded. I've got pain shooting through my abdomen. I'm just trying, trying to smother it and be ME and have fun. But I can only fake it so much. There were a couple points I thought I may hit the floor either from pain or exhaustion. In the middle of all those people smiling and dancing and drinking and LIVING, I was HATING myself. I just felt so broken. Like who the hell am I kidding? I almost left in that moment but I couldn't. I wanted to make it as long as I could because me being there was so rare. I don't go out and I don't even mean drinking or whatever. I don't really have many friends here or go to dinner or happy hour or yoga class or book club or whatever else normal, social people do.
Not too many years ago I had things to do every night. I was either out doing things with Dillan or out doing things with friends. I was rarely home. I have NEVER been a sit at home person. I was actually surprised I got invited because I had only met everyone once prior to being invited out. It felt nice. I didn't want to be lame and let my defective body win. So I milked my Captain and coke and danced as much as I could and had a lot of fun. I'm glad I went. I miss that part of me but indulging in the old me just casts resentment on the bullshit I deal with now.
Three years after filing for SSDI and being denied three times, I finally won at my hearing in August. So in two years my case will get reviewed to see if my heath has changed. It's a weird feeling. It felt good to win after fighting so long and them being so stupid in denying that IBD can affect a person's life so much. On the flip side, I don't think of myself as being so useless. Even though it's reality. I tried to work part time and I was in so much pain and it was so hard. To be this young and have the smallest things drain you is so difficult. <sigh>  But I guess it's nice to be justified in this way. I expect in two years at the review I'm going to be perfect, and healthy and as figured out and normal as possible and pick up my life where I left off a few years back. I have vacations to take and shit to do, people. Big time. I'm less than a month out from another surgery. I've got issues separate from that that I don't see resolving before then. So this should be interesting to say the least. Nothing I can do but meet it head on but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Thanks for listening to my boo-hooing. I've had over 10, 000 hits on my blog now. That amazes me, so thank you! XO

I guess my goal lately is to go at least a month in between posts. Not intentionally but it keeps happening. Pretty much health wise things are chugging along. Got another scope by a different doc to tell me the same thing as last time. Severe ulceration still. Some nasty fissures causing pain. Muscle spasms are back to piss me off. Couple that with the abdominal pain from my engorged fallopian tube and I'm just in pain daily. Basically nonstop. Discomfort in so many areas. There are days I'm not leaving the house unless necessary. My pain pills dull it and I'm content to be under my electric blanket and zoning out. Some days it takes everything out of me to go to class. Running errands wipes me out for the day. It's just so pathetic and ridiculous. I had to take Daughter #1 to the doctor and it struck me how much time in the last four years has been eaten up by my medical issues. I've put in some solid time. Time I could be traveling. Reading. Hell, vacuuming would be better. Ok, maybe not, but it's just such bullshit. I was driving along thinking what do I have to show for four years? Let's not reduce the importance of having my child, naturally, but really. Not much. A lot of laying on my ass with zero drive or with too much pain to accomplish anything. I got pissed. Just that angry, upset pissed and the tears just come.
I'm 36. My time has slipped through my fingers. So much of it without any joy in it. Just days of pain. Hospitals. Doctors. Driving to doctors. Filling scripts. Getting tests. I've fucking had it. There's nothing I can do either but keep going and keep thinking that there will be a point where I'm just real and whole and healthy and not broken anymore.
As shitty as it's all been, that is still MY intention. I don't look at myself as this sickly, forever disabled person who will be trapped with this crap forever. My reality speaks to the contrary but maybe I'm an idiot. I do feel broken many, many days. It makes me sad. It's this weird feeling of losing life. Your 30s are FAR from old. This is prime time baby, and I don't have the body to make it happen. That pisses me off more than I can describe. You know when you get so drunk on Friday night and you sleep all day Saturday and all of a sudden it's Sunday and you are pissed that you basically missed your whole weekend? Well, that's my life. Saturday night I went out for a friend's birthday. I laid around all day to conserve energy so I would actually make it out(Yes, if I had so much as gone out to eat, run to the store etc... there would have been a good chance it just would have used my reserves and I would have bailed). We met for food(I didn't eat. Just not worth the risk) and then went to a bar with a DJ and a band for 80s night. We all had crimped hair and looked crazy and it was fun. We get there and the music was just so great. Those of you who know my drinking/partying/out all night/dance all night days know I loved it and it was my favorite thing to do. We would go dance for hours! Well, seriously two songs in and I'm lightheaded. I've got pain shooting through my abdomen. I'm just trying, trying to smother it and be ME and have fun. But I can only fake it so much. There were a couple points I thought I may hit the floor either from pain or exhaustion. In the middle of all those people smiling and dancing and drinking and LIVING, I was HATING myself. I just felt so broken. Like who the hell am I kidding? I almost left in that moment but I couldn't. I wanted to make it as long as I could because me being there was so rare. I don't go out and I don't even mean drinking or whatever. I don't really have many friends here or go to dinner or happy hour or yoga class or book club or whatever else normal, social people do.
Not too many years ago I had things to do every night. I was either out doing things with Dillan or out doing things with friends. I was rarely home. I have NEVER been a sit at home person. I was actually surprised I got invited because I had only met everyone once prior to being invited out. It felt nice. I didn't want to be lame and let my defective body win. So I milked my Captain and coke and danced as much as I could and had a lot of fun. I'm glad I went. I miss that part of me but indulging in the old me just casts resentment on the bullshit I deal with now.
Three years after filing for SSDI and being denied three times, I finally won at my hearing in August. So in two years my case will get reviewed to see if my heath has changed. It's a weird feeling. It felt good to win after fighting so long and them being so stupid in denying that IBD can affect a person's life so much. On the flip side, I don't think of myself as being so useless. Even though it's reality. I tried to work part time and I was in so much pain and it was so hard. To be this young and have the smallest things drain you is so difficult. <sigh>  But I guess it's nice to be justified in this way. I expect in two years at the review I'm going to be perfect, and healthy and as figured out and normal as possible and pick up my life where I left off a few years back. I have vacations to take and shit to do, people. Big time. I'm less than a month out from another surgery. I've got issues separate from that that I don't see resolving before then. So this should be interesting to say the least. Nothing I can do but meet it head on but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Thanks for listening to my boo-hooing. I've had over 10, 000 hits on my blog now. That amazes me, so thank you! XO

Unexpected recovery.

Well, in my last post I talked about getting scoped to check for fistulas, fissures etc... Tuesday morning came and I was STARVING after being on fluids all day Monday.

Ready to go. A simple scope, right?

 I couldn't wait to eat after my scope. It's always one of my favorite meals because you realize how great food is after spending two days on chicken broth.

My view of the lights in the OR. Just hanging out, waiting. 

Well, imagine my surprise(horror) when I woke up from anesthesia in absolute, excruciating pain and in tears. Waking up crying isn't exactly normal. I was there alone b/c I've had so many scopes that it is nothing to me, so I had told Hubs to leave and just head back when they call that I'm in recovery. I was my surgeon's last procedure before he left to have his office hours and was still out when he checked in before he left. So in my fog, I heard the nurse say something about surgery, she handed me a Lortab and then said she was calling my surgeon. I was just laying there crying... Not to be completely ridiculous but it felt like someone drove a car up my ass. After 20 minutes the Lortab had done nothing. At that point I was wishing for post delivery pain from having my kids. Lovely. So I vaguely hear her on the phone. She returned like an angel with a push of Demerol for my IV, so within 5 seconds I was a happy and completely stoned girl. Hubs shows up and talks to my surgeon. He discovered a few issues while doing the scope. Ulcers and inflammation in the 1cm of what's left of my rectum and anal fistulas. Now, if you were a good student and googled 'fistulas' like I said, you would have found out that they are essentially an infection that burrows and fills with pus below the surface. As you can imagine, pockets of that can cause the extreme pain I had been dealing with for MONTHS.  Sexy, I know... settle down!! I am one lucky bitch!!
 So the only way to treat these disgusting things is to open them up and clean them out and let them drain. Antibiotics don't work. So, yeah. I woke up to that having been done to my ass. And he took a bunch of biopsies as well because of the inflammation. I'm actually kinda thankful he just did it while he had me there. The procedure cost $1200 so having had to go back and pay that again would have pissed me off. As it is I feel like someone should have paid ME for having to go through that shit. Just disgusting. I mean, prior to me getting sick I never even knew this kind of crap existed for people. I suppose that's why I talk about it.
Needless to say, my Norcos have been my best friend since Wednesday. Tuesday I was out for the count for the rest of the day which I'm used to. Anesthesia has always done that which I don't mind.
It has been pretty painful this week. Walking around is nearly impossible. Squatting, sitting... I can't lift for another week while this crap heals. I'm afraid to eat because you can imagine how fun going to the bathroom is with all that nonsense going on... so it's been pretty cool. Not at all.
So yeah, the last few weeks have really sucked. Last night I got the coolest message from a friend I haven't seen in years... He said my blog was like me- "honest and awesome". I have to say, that made my night. It's funny how you may think someone may not even consider you at all...and then have them say something so great like that. I don't know. It was just pretty cool. So, to my friend, thank you for that. =)

Trying to make recovery look easy.

I'm hoping the next few days has the pain tapering off. I see my Surgeon on the 3rd so I will get all my biopsy results back. He's assuming it will be Proctitis and not Crohn's like we feared. I'm just preparing for the worst anyway. It tends to make the reality easier. Regardless, this means I will be going on meds  of some type. Possibly a steroid. None of that is making me happy because the whole reason I went with getting gutted was to avoid pumping myself full of meds forever. <sigh> Such complete bullshit. Like really, that 1cm has to give me trouble after getting over 5 feet of guts removed. Ridiculous. Sneaky disease. I'm still going to shut you down. It might take me another 5 years. Whatever. But I'm going to win. I always win. ;-)
Thanks for reading... go out and run around and eat a bunch of food, and drink some beer for me, ok? Sweet! I appreciate it.

Well, in my last post I talked about getting scoped to check for fistulas, fissures etc... Tuesday morning came and I was STARVING after being on fluids all day Monday.

Ready to go. A simple scope, right?

 I couldn't wait to eat after my scope. It's always one of my favorite meals because you realize how great food is after spending two days on chicken broth.

My view of the lights in the OR. Just hanging out, waiting. 

Well, imagine my surprise(horror) when I woke up from anesthesia in absolute, excruciating pain and in tears. Waking up crying isn't exactly normal. I was there alone b/c I've had so many scopes that it is nothing to me, so I had told Hubs to leave and just head back when they call that I'm in recovery. I was my surgeon's last procedure before he left to have his office hours and was still out when he checked in before he left. So in my fog, I heard the nurse say something about surgery, she handed me a Lortab and then said she was calling my surgeon. I was just laying there crying... Not to be completely ridiculous but it felt like someone drove a car up my ass. After 20 minutes the Lortab had done nothing. At that point I was wishing for post delivery pain from having my kids. Lovely. So I vaguely hear her on the phone. She returned like an angel with a push of Demerol for my IV, so within 5 seconds I was a happy and completely stoned girl. Hubs shows up and talks to my surgeon. He discovered a few issues while doing the scope. Ulcers and inflammation in the 1cm of what's left of my rectum and anal fistulas. Now, if you were a good student and googled 'fistulas' like I said, you would have found out that they are essentially an infection that burrows and fills with pus below the surface. As you can imagine, pockets of that can cause the extreme pain I had been dealing with for MONTHS.  Sexy, I know... settle down!! I am one lucky bitch!!
 So the only way to treat these disgusting things is to open them up and clean them out and let them drain. Antibiotics don't work. So, yeah. I woke up to that having been done to my ass. And he took a bunch of biopsies as well because of the inflammation. I'm actually kinda thankful he just did it while he had me there. The procedure cost $1200 so having had to go back and pay that again would have pissed me off. As it is I feel like someone should have paid ME for having to go through that shit. Just disgusting. I mean, prior to me getting sick I never even knew this kind of crap existed for people. I suppose that's why I talk about it.
Needless to say, my Norcos have been my best friend since Wednesday. Tuesday I was out for the count for the rest of the day which I'm used to. Anesthesia has always done that which I don't mind.
It has been pretty painful this week. Walking around is nearly impossible. Squatting, sitting... I can't lift for another week while this crap heals. I'm afraid to eat because you can imagine how fun going to the bathroom is with all that nonsense going on... so it's been pretty cool. Not at all.
So yeah, the last few weeks have really sucked. Last night I got the coolest message from a friend I haven't seen in years... He said my blog was like me- "honest and awesome". I have to say, that made my night. It's funny how you may think someone may not even consider you at all...and then have them say something so great like that. I don't know. It was just pretty cool. So, to my friend, thank you for that. =)

Trying to make recovery look easy.

I'm hoping the next few days has the pain tapering off. I see my Surgeon on the 3rd so I will get all my biopsy results back. He's assuming it will be Proctitis and not Crohn's like we feared. I'm just preparing for the worst anyway. It tends to make the reality easier. Regardless, this means I will be going on meds  of some type. Possibly a steroid. None of that is making me happy because the whole reason I went with getting gutted was to avoid pumping myself full of meds forever. <sigh> Such complete bullshit. Like really, that 1cm has to give me trouble after getting over 5 feet of guts removed. Ridiculous. Sneaky disease. I'm still going to shut you down. It might take me another 5 years. Whatever. But I'm going to win. I always win. ;-)
Thanks for reading... go out and run around and eat a bunch of food, and drink some beer for me, ok? Sweet! I appreciate it.