In August 2007 I had an episode at work. Having never had a heart attack I can only imagine what it feels like but this was something akin to that I think.
It started out as profound sweating, escalated to full on dizziness with pronounced abdominal pain. I was shaking so hard I could not stand and by 5 a.m. I had my boyfriend rush me to the ER. Most of my adult life I would not go to any doctor unless I was quite literally dieing. This I say only to illustrate how bad it felt because I do not believe I am doing it justice here.
They put me through one of those trans-vaginal deals and I have to say it was the single most painful experience of my life including child birth. The tech was in no way forgiving or sympathetic.
The ER pronounced it a cyst. The gynecologist pronounced it a cyst with the possibility of fibroids because of the fact that in previous months I had complained of menstrual cycles so painful I could do nothing but lay on the couch and cry for 3 days. She prescribed me a blue pill for the cramping and said that the cysts would most likely take care of themselves with my next cycle. She also ordered an ultrasound.
When we tried to make the appoinment for the Ultrasound they did not have anything available. While I waited I had taken on a new very physically demanding job as a stable hand. When they finally did have an appointment available I could not go due to the nature of this job not affording holidays, vacation time or sick days. As well as the fact that if I could not go to work there was no co-worker to ask to fill in.
That job included shoveling piles of horse poo into a wheel barrow and dumping onto the dung heap. Followed by many trips (at least 16 every day so round trip that's 32 treks across the arena with a full wheelbarrow of sawdust shavings) across a very big indoor arena to haul shaving back to the pins. Carrying 2 gallon buckets of water to dump out refill and return to the stalls. After 6 months with this job I had lost 25 lbs. and was well on my way to Buff City.
Previous to this I had been a stay at home mommy for 12 years. The painful cramping and debilitation of my menstrual cycles ceased. So I assumed that the cysts had indeed taken care of themselves and completely forgot about the fibroids. I was feeling better than I had in a very long time except for the extreme tired at the end of the day. It was satisfying though. I truly loved it!
Let me ask you this - Do you go to the doctor more than once a year and say "Hey Doc I feel great could you have a look and make sure I really am fine?" Me neither, so it simply slipped out of my mind. The moment I was sure I needed help I got it or I'm trying to - been to the doctors office almost every week since April, I'm a bit tired of this test, test, test, and wait shit!
So 2 years later it may be that those tiny fibroids have banded together across my abdomen, this abnormally growing phenomenon may well have been what has caused my endometriosis I still don't know. Tomorrow I have THE appointment where the Doc is supposed to tell me exactly what is wrong and how we will be proceeding.
I'm hoping for a full hysterectomy. I know this will vault me into full blown menopause but I have already been experiencing most if not all of the sysmptoms associated with it. I have had my children and don't want anymore, neither does Dash as he got fixed 2 years ago. I don't need the baby carriage anymore, nor the ovaries and fullopian tubes. Take it all and the menstrual cycles with it.
The only real concern I have about surgery is the approximate recovery times range from 2 - 6 weeks. This is bad because I do not qualify for paid sick leave with my current job, Employment Insurance will only cover 55% of my average income and will kick in AFTER I've been out of work for 2 weeks. The bills still come whether I am sick or dieing. I'm kind of hoping I am a candidate for the laproscopic surgery (3 little holes on the abdomen) if not that then the vaginal hysterectomy. The other worst scenario is they have to cut through all of my abdominal muscles and open me wide up. That one will have stiches, staples, scars and 6 weeks where I can't even lift toast.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Gynecologists and the Negative Ninny
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Let's begin today with an explanation of why I do not like gynecologists. Fact is it will never matter if the Doctor is good or not, this experience is TORTURE even when I do not have problems.
1. The speculum - is not comfortable in truth it hurts me so badly I cry the entire time. I have tried balling my fists and placing them under my lower back to lessen the pain and tilting my pelvis to various angles, as well as taking mild mood soothing herbs and Tylenol before an appointment all to no avail. I also ALWAYS get pinched. This pain may or may NOT be associated with the scar tissue created when I contracted chlamydia at the age of 17 (bad boyfriend for screwing around bad me for not making him use a condom).
2. The Pap smear - While I know this is a q-tip and Doctors of varying gentleness have done this it still feels like razor blades.
3. Abnormal Cells - After each and every time I gave birth the Doctor would inform me that I had abnormal cells and that they needed to do a biopsy to rule out Cervical Cancer. The biopsy always came back clean or upon retesting 6 months later miraculously gone. I know this is preventative and caught early could save my life but I think after it happening 3 times each time after birth having the EXACT same problem I think I know what I'm talking about when I tell them it will rectify itself. The last ass I encountered about this refused to first retest properly (6 months instead of 6 weeks you dim wit) so he decided I needed a LEEP (cork sized biopsy from the cervix) I let him do what he thought was necessary only because this is what it took to get him to agree to give me the Tubal I wanted. Thanks to that I now have a shallow vagina and pressure pain I've learned to deal with during sex.
4. Cancer - NOT everyone has it and NOT everything causes it. This word stresses me out and no matter how many times I tell a Doctor to not use it unless tests PROVE I have it they will not be sensitive to my feelings. One time under direct orders in my file a Doctor had notated that it would danger the fetus to stress me out so therefore talking about an amniocentisis or the results of any birth defects testing, and any mention of cancer whatsoever with me would be stressful and detremental to my health. What happened was the on call Doctor obviously could not read and did just that. Harassing me at home with phone calls trying to convince me that this was something I HAD to do. It did not matter that everytime I said no and asked her to stop. I ended up bed bound for 2 weeks over this.
5. Emotionally/Mentally - I can and do have the ability to wrap my head around a great deal of pain. I am aware they ARE trying to help me! However I still go home from an appointment feeling violated - this may be a psychological throw back from being molested by my Uncle at 5 and raped by my brother at 12. I can't be positive about anyone I really am not in love with touching anything private. My skin tries to vacate my body every time I get a breast exam. It's not the Doctors fault I realize this and say nothing to them but am a basket case for the rest of the day.
6. Psychiatrist - been there done that didn't change a damn thing! I feel how I feel.
I'm not saying ALL Gynecologists are bad I am saying since I do not have a medical degree they do not listen because they think I am stupid and stubborn. Be that as it may I wear my body for 24/7 for the last 35 years. I am intelligent and will seek information on that which I do not understand or know and WILL consult a professional because I do NOT profess that I am smater than they are.
It isn't even just Gynecoligists every single Doctor I have ever seen has at one point in time accused me of stupity with this phrase "How can you possibly know you have ________? (fill in the blank) Are you a Doctor?"
1. I didn't say I KNOW anything I said I SUSPECT this is my problem.
2. If I KNEW what it was what the hell would I be doing in your office?
3. Just because I am from back woods Missouri and speak with an accent does NOT mean I am an idiot.
I accept that all of the aforementioned may be an example of pessimism on my part and stubborness to boot but again this is how I feel. I really try to make extreme efforts to not allow this to control my ability to remain healthy. I am sorry TRY is all I can promise. I am open to suggestions on how to control this if it should seem irrational to anyone.
Tomorrow I'll delve into the Fibroids and why I waited so long to deal with those.
Please be advised due to my current medical condition Doctors have informed me that I'm incapable of coping skills and prone to Hormonal Challenges (HC) - that's moodiness hijacked by ninjas on hormone deficient cognitive reasoning. Please take all things with a pinch of salt. Know I do NOT mean anything said as an attack simply an explanation. I want/need your opinions, your support and your understanding. Thank You!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Let's begin today with an explanation of why I do not like gynecologists. Fact is it will never matter if the Doctor is good or not, this experience is TORTURE even when I do not have problems.
1. The speculum - is not comfortable in truth it hurts me so badly I cry the entire time. I have tried balling my fists and placing them under my lower back to lessen the pain and tilting my pelvis to various angles, as well as taking mild mood soothing herbs and Tylenol before an appointment all to no avail. I also ALWAYS get pinched. This pain may or may NOT be associated with the scar tissue created when I contracted chlamydia at the age of 17 (bad boyfriend for screwing around bad me for not making him use a condom).
2. The Pap smear - While I know this is a q-tip and Doctors of varying gentleness have done this it still feels like razor blades.
3. Abnormal Cells - After each and every time I gave birth the Doctor would inform me that I had abnormal cells and that they needed to do a biopsy to rule out Cervical Cancer. The biopsy always came back clean or upon retesting 6 months later miraculously gone. I know this is preventative and caught early could save my life but I think after it happening 3 times each time after birth having the EXACT same problem I think I know what I'm talking about when I tell them it will rectify itself. The last ass I encountered about this refused to first retest properly (6 months instead of 6 weeks you dim wit) so he decided I needed a LEEP (cork sized biopsy from the cervix) I let him do what he thought was necessary only because this is what it took to get him to agree to give me the Tubal I wanted. Thanks to that I now have a shallow vagina and pressure pain I've learned to deal with during sex.
4. Cancer - NOT everyone has it and NOT everything causes it. This word stresses me out and no matter how many times I tell a Doctor to not use it unless tests PROVE I have it they will not be sensitive to my feelings. One time under direct orders in my file a Doctor had notated that it would danger the fetus to stress me out so therefore talking about an amniocentisis or the results of any birth defects testing, and any mention of cancer whatsoever with me would be stressful and detremental to my health. What happened was the on call Doctor obviously could not read and did just that. Harassing me at home with phone calls trying to convince me that this was something I HAD to do. It did not matter that everytime I said no and asked her to stop. I ended up bed bound for 2 weeks over this.
5. Emotionally/Mentally - I can and do have the ability to wrap my head around a great deal of pain. I am aware they ARE trying to help me! However I still go home from an appointment feeling violated - this may be a psychological throw back from being molested by my Uncle at 5 and raped by my brother at 12. I can't be positive about anyone I really am not in love with touching anything private. My skin tries to vacate my body every time I get a breast exam. It's not the Doctors fault I realize this and say nothing to them but am a basket case for the rest of the day.
6. Psychiatrist - been there done that didn't change a damn thing! I feel how I feel.
I'm not saying ALL Gynecologists are bad I am saying since I do not have a medical degree they do not listen because they think I am stupid and stubborn. Be that as it may I wear my body for 24/7 for the last 35 years. I am intelligent and will seek information on that which I do not understand or know and WILL consult a professional because I do NOT profess that I am smater than they are.
It isn't even just Gynecoligists every single Doctor I have ever seen has at one point in time accused me of stupity with this phrase "How can you possibly know you have ________? (fill in the blank) Are you a Doctor?"
1. I didn't say I KNOW anything I said I SUSPECT this is my problem.
2. If I KNEW what it was what the hell would I be doing in your office?
3. Just because I am from back woods Missouri and speak with an accent does NOT mean I am an idiot.
I accept that all of the aforementioned may be an example of pessimism on my part and stubborness to boot but again this is how I feel. I really try to make extreme efforts to not allow this to control my ability to remain healthy. I am sorry TRY is all I can promise. I am open to suggestions on how to control this if it should seem irrational to anyone.
Tomorrow I'll delve into the Fibroids and why I waited so long to deal with those.
Pardon My Patients
FAIR WARNING: Post IS 4 fucking pages long in Word!
So okay if you have been around long enough you know that I am fairly inconsistent with my entries and that when something major is going on with me I return to blogging. The simple truth of the matter is when I come back it is because I am tired of inflicting my whoas on my loved ones but still require room to think and share. My personality type does not allow for bottling up my feelings. I saw what holding things inside did to my mother and I refuse to allow the truth to fester inside my soul like a malignant spore.
What I am about to talk about seems to be woman’s dirty little secret, there is not much in the way of personal example on the subject only very clinical factoids. I believe that my experiences in life (all aspects) when shared can help others. Even if the example is what not to do, if you learn something then my life purpose has been fulfilled.
In April I began to have a myriad of symptoms.
And the symptom after the 4th time that I simply could not ignore: Bleeding after intercourse (and I mean enough to soak a very plush very large bathing towel).
I imagine the first conclusion you are imagining is Pregnancy let me dispel that one right away – my tubal ligation(TL) (READ: Fixed – no more puppies for this bitch) was in September 2000.
About this time my mother had been hospitalized for EXTREMELY high blood sugar (204) that’s enough to damage her heart, plus an ear infection plus pneumonia. My family is a tad large and therefore all in the high risk category for diabetes. I had noticed that my low moods and fatigue would disappear after I ate so I assumed I was having precursory symptoms to diabetes and that the head/body aches and inability to concentrate were the onset of a sinus cold. Perhaps in hind sight I was grasping at whatever was closest for the moment.
Now for the bloody matters – well I honestly believed I was miscalculating my periods either thinking they were done when in fact they weren’t or that I was starting early (SEE: lack of concentration) . The pain of sex only happened once and was not followed by a blood bath so I thought we were simply in the wrong position and had irritated something. The next week we went to have a friend who happens to be an accountant look over our taxes. His wife is a Homeopathic Nurse and me; ever the worrier excused myself to her office while the boys perused the numbers. The first thing she said was perimenopause.
Quoted from Wikipedia if a little altered for flow (pardon the pun): “Perimenopause is the term describing the menopause transition years, in women who have a uterus, the years both before and after the final period.”
I was mildly alarmed because woman + menopause = dirty word. No one had ever talked to me about it nor had I bothered to ask. Okay here comes your second concern – I am not to young to be entering this stage of life (35) especially if genetics has anything to do with it because guess what? I first made an appointment with my Doctor and second called my mother. To which she nonchalantly went into a giggling fit about her extreme long periods and many fibroids that lead to her hysterectomy at the age of you guessed it thirty-fuckin’-five!!! I was 8 and have no recollection of my life before 11, sorry I just don’t remember anything before that. And here she’d just said another word I’d heard before FIBROIDS.
Fibroids are benign tumors which grow from the muscle layers of the uterus, they often do not require treatment but when they are problematic, they may be treated surgically (hysterectomy, hormonal therapy, a myomectomy, or uterine artery embolization) or with medication. About 2 years ago while working a night shift I damn near fainted, had extreme abdominal pain and soaked with sweat like I’d just gotten out of a very nasty shower. That ER experience is one of the reasons I stopped visiting the gynecologist.
You just made that hissing sound I heard you!
I know not going for your yearly visit is like tattooing cervical cancer on your death sentence dead girl walking slip but I HATE the “C” word. I’m not going to get into that just now. Don’t judge - just read!!!
I went to the family doc – standard blood work, listen to my breath look in my Ear Nose Throat (ENT). Wait one week for test results.
Go in for test results – it ain’t diabetes! WOW really? Surprised I be! I lay on the table, he feels my tummy and goes (I kid you not) “WHOA! If I didn’t know better I’d say,” as he runs his hand from pelvis to sternum,”That’s about 18 weeks.” This is a man of very few words and no emotion whatsoever. So I’m a little nervous as you can imagine.
I fucking snorted, rolled my eyes and laughed right in his face, “That’s not even remotely possible.” And proceed to tell the Doc about said TL. I couldn’t get that damn “P” word outta my head so I raced home and pissed on a stick just to be sure. (There is another ridiculously funny story there for another time.)
The following week he schedules an ultra-sound + transvaginal. Gggaaaahhhh!!!! SO I wait a week and have the test this sucks on so many levels - 5 bottles of water an hour before the appointment + pelvis pain and a stick jammed into your cookie jar = I hate being a girl! Wait another week for the results.
Results = buttkissangel. We think it’s a fibroid it looks like one but doesn’t act like one and we can’t see your ovaries but it’s a mass about 4 inches by 6 inches. We need to rule out…say it with me…Cancer, suggest MRI.
So the bad family doctor can’t order an MRI he has to refer me to a specialist (READ: Gyne-fuckin-cologist) please wait 2 weeks, no sex, and extra pain from the stress. Yes, the more stressed I am the more it hurts. Wrap your noodle around this I am a stomach sleeper!
Meet with the Gyno who first told me it was a fibroid (2 years earlier), get lecture, pap, blood work and wait for MRI appointment. You’ll love this. The first appointment they could schedule…
August fucking 7th.
By this time I can not get my man to hug me or kiss me because he might hurt me and I am sleeping in the living room because our bed is unforgiving to the now bloated stomach. My mood roller coaster is about to come off the rails because I feel like I am all alone and repulsive to boot. I can no longer work out it hurts to lift my leg, I don’t have the energy and I’ve started fucking up at work so badly I almost got fired! What’s worse is the insomnia is keeping me up so late I have to take the night shifts so I’m not getting to see Dash at all. Which is probably a good thing. I think the moodiness was getting to him even if he understood the hormones were in control and not me. Wee-haw aren’t we having some fun now!
That brings us to June 3rd - I was awakened bright and fantastically early given above problems to a call from the Hospital "We have a cancellation can you be here in an hour?" YEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!! The MRI was fun especially with a head cold (another story, another time.) I know, I know but this story is hugely long. Sorry.
Doc Torture…err Gyno goes on fucking vacation whilst we await the supposedly 2 weeks it takes for the results to appear. On the 10th that little head cold is full blown sinus infection and I can’t stand because my equilibrium is shot. I actually booked an appointment with Dr. Family Fuck-up for the head case.
Low and behold I arrive to see the MRI written in Latin or some other dead fuckin’ language stapled to the front of my file and my head miraculously clears. I totally fucking forgot they asked if I wanted him copied on the results. I said,"Sure good to have all your eggs in one basket." (Teehee) He writes a scrip for antibiotics to clear up my sinus infection and precedes to read those damn results 5 fucking times before he will tell me anything muttering obscenities all the while at the page likes it’s a moron or something. The little bit I got out of him he didn’t want to divulge saying I had to talk to Dr. Torture.
So his version goes something like this: “Endometriosis (his description I swear) – when the uterine lining gets outside the uterine cavity for whatever reason. Yours has attached itself to your fallopian tube and it’s filling it with blood. My guess is she’ll (Dr. Torture) want to take it out.”
Take what out the fallopian tube, the uterus, all of it (Please god by all that is holy!!!)? This is where he decides the clam is dirty enough without his mucking about in it and I can pry nothing further from his educated non-bedside having manner.
So I managed to get Dash to book off so he can go to the appointment on the 17th to see Dr. Torture when she gives me all the big words and the judgment of the surgical court.
. . . W a i t f o r it . . .
On the 16th (can you guess I bet you can) the fucking twit receptionist with a manly mustache calls to move my appointment time on the 24th from the morning to the afternoon. WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! I have an appointment tomorrow. No she says its next week. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!! We don’t even have the results yet it’s too soon. Uhm, pardon me ma’am but Dr. Scrooge has them why the hell don’t you? I don’t know but your appointment is on the 24th.
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
And that folks believe it or not is the funny parts. It’s not even the whole damn story but its 4 damn pages long and this is a mother of an update. I want, no I need very much to tell you about the emotional side because it’s the part I can NOT, will NOT live with!
So okay if you have been around long enough you know that I am fairly inconsistent with my entries and that when something major is going on with me I return to blogging. The simple truth of the matter is when I come back it is because I am tired of inflicting my whoas on my loved ones but still require room to think and share. My personality type does not allow for bottling up my feelings. I saw what holding things inside did to my mother and I refuse to allow the truth to fester inside my soul like a malignant spore.
What I am about to talk about seems to be woman’s dirty little secret, there is not much in the way of personal example on the subject only very clinical factoids. I believe that my experiences in life (all aspects) when shared can help others. Even if the example is what not to do, if you learn something then my life purpose has been fulfilled.
In April I began to have a myriad of symptoms.
- After dinner I would sweat until my shirt was soaked.
- Getting tired at 2 in the afternoon and having trouble staying awake past 6 p.m.
- The ability to prioritize/organize my usual tasks at work disappeared entirely.
- Mood swings with no discernable pattern or reason.
- My insomnia got so bad at one point I had, had 5 hours of sleep in 10 days. (I know this symptom is the polar opposite of another but it happened.)
- Having to pee every half hour.
- My breasts actually feel like they are growing but are not changing size.
- Heartburn even when drinking water.
- Everything tasting like cardboard.
- Pain in the general region of kidneys and just above pubic bone.
- Pain during intercourse.
And the symptom after the 4th time that I simply could not ignore: Bleeding after intercourse (and I mean enough to soak a very plush very large bathing towel).
I imagine the first conclusion you are imagining is Pregnancy let me dispel that one right away – my tubal ligation(TL) (READ: Fixed – no more puppies for this bitch) was in September 2000.
About this time my mother had been hospitalized for EXTREMELY high blood sugar (204) that’s enough to damage her heart, plus an ear infection plus pneumonia. My family is a tad large and therefore all in the high risk category for diabetes. I had noticed that my low moods and fatigue would disappear after I ate so I assumed I was having precursory symptoms to diabetes and that the head/body aches and inability to concentrate were the onset of a sinus cold. Perhaps in hind sight I was grasping at whatever was closest for the moment.
Now for the bloody matters – well I honestly believed I was miscalculating my periods either thinking they were done when in fact they weren’t or that I was starting early (SEE: lack of concentration) . The pain of sex only happened once and was not followed by a blood bath so I thought we were simply in the wrong position and had irritated something. The next week we went to have a friend who happens to be an accountant look over our taxes. His wife is a Homeopathic Nurse and me; ever the worrier excused myself to her office while the boys perused the numbers. The first thing she said was perimenopause.
Quoted from Wikipedia if a little altered for flow (pardon the pun): “Perimenopause is the term describing the menopause transition years, in women who have a uterus, the years both before and after the final period.”
I was mildly alarmed because woman + menopause = dirty word. No one had ever talked to me about it nor had I bothered to ask. Okay here comes your second concern – I am not to young to be entering this stage of life (35) especially if genetics has anything to do with it because guess what? I first made an appointment with my Doctor and second called my mother. To which she nonchalantly went into a giggling fit about her extreme long periods and many fibroids that lead to her hysterectomy at the age of you guessed it thirty-fuckin’-five!!! I was 8 and have no recollection of my life before 11, sorry I just don’t remember anything before that. And here she’d just said another word I’d heard before FIBROIDS.
Fibroids are benign tumors which grow from the muscle layers of the uterus, they often do not require treatment but when they are problematic, they may be treated surgically (hysterectomy, hormonal therapy, a myomectomy, or uterine artery embolization) or with medication. About 2 years ago while working a night shift I damn near fainted, had extreme abdominal pain and soaked with sweat like I’d just gotten out of a very nasty shower. That ER experience is one of the reasons I stopped visiting the gynecologist.
You just made that hissing sound I heard you!
I know not going for your yearly visit is like tattooing cervical cancer on your death sentence dead girl walking slip but I HATE the “C” word. I’m not going to get into that just now. Don’t judge - just read!!!
I went to the family doc – standard blood work, listen to my breath look in my Ear Nose Throat (ENT). Wait one week for test results.
Go in for test results – it ain’t diabetes! WOW really? Surprised I be! I lay on the table, he feels my tummy and goes (I kid you not) “WHOA! If I didn’t know better I’d say,” as he runs his hand from pelvis to sternum,”That’s about 18 weeks.” This is a man of very few words and no emotion whatsoever. So I’m a little nervous as you can imagine.
I fucking snorted, rolled my eyes and laughed right in his face, “That’s not even remotely possible.” And proceed to tell the Doc about said TL. I couldn’t get that damn “P” word outta my head so I raced home and pissed on a stick just to be sure. (There is another ridiculously funny story there for another time.)
The following week he schedules an ultra-sound + transvaginal. Gggaaaahhhh!!!! SO I wait a week and have the test this sucks on so many levels - 5 bottles of water an hour before the appointment + pelvis pain and a stick jammed into your cookie jar = I hate being a girl! Wait another week for the results.
Results = buttkissangel. We think it’s a fibroid it looks like one but doesn’t act like one and we can’t see your ovaries but it’s a mass about 4 inches by 6 inches. We need to rule out…say it with me…Cancer, suggest MRI.
So the bad family doctor can’t order an MRI he has to refer me to a specialist (READ: Gyne-fuckin-cologist) please wait 2 weeks, no sex, and extra pain from the stress. Yes, the more stressed I am the more it hurts. Wrap your noodle around this I am a stomach sleeper!
Meet with the Gyno who first told me it was a fibroid (2 years earlier), get lecture, pap, blood work and wait for MRI appointment. You’ll love this. The first appointment they could schedule…
August fucking 7th.
By this time I can not get my man to hug me or kiss me because he might hurt me and I am sleeping in the living room because our bed is unforgiving to the now bloated stomach. My mood roller coaster is about to come off the rails because I feel like I am all alone and repulsive to boot. I can no longer work out it hurts to lift my leg, I don’t have the energy and I’ve started fucking up at work so badly I almost got fired! What’s worse is the insomnia is keeping me up so late I have to take the night shifts so I’m not getting to see Dash at all. Which is probably a good thing. I think the moodiness was getting to him even if he understood the hormones were in control and not me. Wee-haw aren’t we having some fun now!
That brings us to June 3rd - I was awakened bright and fantastically early given above problems to a call from the Hospital "We have a cancellation can you be here in an hour?" YEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!! The MRI was fun especially with a head cold (another story, another time.) I know, I know but this story is hugely long. Sorry.
Doc Torture…err Gyno goes on fucking vacation whilst we await the supposedly 2 weeks it takes for the results to appear. On the 10th that little head cold is full blown sinus infection and I can’t stand because my equilibrium is shot. I actually booked an appointment with Dr. Family Fuck-up for the head case.
Low and behold I arrive to see the MRI written in Latin or some other dead fuckin’ language stapled to the front of my file and my head miraculously clears. I totally fucking forgot they asked if I wanted him copied on the results. I said,"Sure good to have all your eggs in one basket." (Teehee) He writes a scrip for antibiotics to clear up my sinus infection and precedes to read those damn results 5 fucking times before he will tell me anything muttering obscenities all the while at the page likes it’s a moron or something. The little bit I got out of him he didn’t want to divulge saying I had to talk to Dr. Torture.
So his version goes something like this: “Endometriosis (his description I swear) – when the uterine lining gets outside the uterine cavity for whatever reason. Yours has attached itself to your fallopian tube and it’s filling it with blood. My guess is she’ll (Dr. Torture) want to take it out.”
Take what out the fallopian tube, the uterus, all of it (Please god by all that is holy!!!)? This is where he decides the clam is dirty enough without his mucking about in it and I can pry nothing further from his educated non-bedside having manner.
So I managed to get Dash to book off so he can go to the appointment on the 17th to see Dr. Torture when she gives me all the big words and the judgment of the surgical court.
. . . W a i t f o r it . . .
On the 16th (can you guess I bet you can) the fucking twit receptionist with a manly mustache calls to move my appointment time on the 24th from the morning to the afternoon. WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! I have an appointment tomorrow. No she says its next week. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!! We don’t even have the results yet it’s too soon. Uhm, pardon me ma’am but Dr. Scrooge has them why the hell don’t you? I don’t know but your appointment is on the 24th.
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
And that folks believe it or not is the funny parts. It’s not even the whole damn story but its 4 damn pages long and this is a mother of an update. I want, no I need very much to tell you about the emotional side because it’s the part I can NOT, will NOT live with!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Blubell
So we're on our way back from the Doctor's office and I'm doing these calculations ~ round-trip cab cost $24 x 20 days to heal = $480 - $ 875 (6 month average monthly income) = $ 395 and all I get for over half of my paycheck is irritation 'cause cabbies can't drive.
MADNESS I tell ya!!!
About that time Dash is driving past a used car lot we have talked about stopping into and I look over at him totally deflated and say,"Do you realize the cost of a cab for the remainder of the month is a car payment?"
And I see the wheels creaking to a screeching halt in his head as he tries to rectify our current credit score with the possibility that I will be spending more than we can afford to burn on cabs. Sort of dumbfounded he asks beseeching me not to say yes,"Do you want to stop at the car dealership?"
Up to this point we've been volleying the pros and cons of buying me a car for 9 months and the numbers won't mesh no matter how hard we try. Of course those puppy eyes and the reality that has always been my luck seep out into my words,"No."
We don't even make it half a block and I can't take one more second of this shit. We work so hard for so little pay and then it's one more thing dragging us down. But it's ALWAYS one more fucking thing!!! I look him dead in the face,"Turn around."
He does and I can feel us both putting on our armor, you know the thick skinned kind that's prepared to hear "NO" for the billionth time.
As we park a salesman is walking out with 2 customers and we're doing our best not to look poor. I have to wonder to seasoned salesman if this facade ever works? He zeros in on us, turns out to be a good-natured guy, gives us room to look, not to pushy asking all the right questions and side-stepping the obviousness of our situation.
Sits us down, runs the numbers and asks if we want to run it past the bank?
I don't know if you've ever had those moments when you have to worry about ONE more inquiry on your credit history or not but it sort of feels like someone decided to park a boat on your face.
I look at Dash. Dash looks at me and we silently are gearing up for the "can we think about it" escape speech when Mr. Calzone senses the fish wiggling for all it's worth on the hook he says,"You have some concerns."
He leans back in his chair steeples his fingers together gets up from his chair holds up one finger and leaves us in his office. I'm sure both of us felt like a deer in headlights - where did he go - 10 minutes passes he's still not back, we're uncomfortable and wanting to run. I can feel our tension like lightening in a thunderhead building. When he returns he's smiling.
Not only did he get a bank to agree to our chosen car and price without checking our credit but also a cash back bonus. Enough to pay off 2 of our high interest rate credit cards for half the APR and do a little necessity shopping. The money that freed up made it possible to make the car and insurance payment.
PLUS! Yes I said plus, there's more - this bank specializes in people like us struggling to rebuild our credit history by doing all the right things and seemingly getting no where, IF after a year all our payments are ON TIME they will offer us a personal line of credit no questions asked!!!
I swear the tide just shifted, I'm numb of course we agreed and we are now 3 short months away from that 1 year line.
Let me tell you about the car and then I will connect the spooky dots for you, m'kay? Good. It was a Blue 2008 Dodge Avenger that had been used as a day rental with 24561 km.
Now for the Spooky - It took 2 days to file all the proper paperwork for pick-up and while we anxiously awaited word from Mr. Calzone when it would be ready I began trying to decide on the cars' name. I know some people think this is silly but it is a tradition handed down from my father all Dodge vehicles in our family must have names starting with the letter "B".
So I settled on Blubell because of the color. When we went to pick up the car we learned that Mr. Calzone was not in fact a salesman but none other than the sales manager and owner of the dealership! He does not broker deals hasn't for 5+ years he's to busy normally, we just happened to catch him as he was escorting out some customers from years past that dropped in to say hello.
The plate that we did not order personalized had part of the name I had chosen on it. So had I not had my accident we would never have been going to the doctor on that day, had I not told Dash to keep driving that extra 1/2 block we wouldn't have gotten Mr. Calzone and I still can't explain the plate.
So many good things have happened since I hurt my knee it just amazes me. Looking back at it hind sight being what it is (20/20) I really believe I had to get hurt in order for the good things to come.
Sometimes even when you're down fate smiles.
MADNESS I tell ya!!!
About that time Dash is driving past a used car lot we have talked about stopping into and I look over at him totally deflated and say,"Do you realize the cost of a cab for the remainder of the month is a car payment?"
And I see the wheels creaking to a screeching halt in his head as he tries to rectify our current credit score with the possibility that I will be spending more than we can afford to burn on cabs. Sort of dumbfounded he asks beseeching me not to say yes,"Do you want to stop at the car dealership?"
Up to this point we've been volleying the pros and cons of buying me a car for 9 months and the numbers won't mesh no matter how hard we try. Of course those puppy eyes and the reality that has always been my luck seep out into my words,"No."
We don't even make it half a block and I can't take one more second of this shit. We work so hard for so little pay and then it's one more thing dragging us down. But it's ALWAYS one more fucking thing!!! I look him dead in the face,"Turn around."
He does and I can feel us both putting on our armor, you know the thick skinned kind that's prepared to hear "NO" for the billionth time.
As we park a salesman is walking out with 2 customers and we're doing our best not to look poor. I have to wonder to seasoned salesman if this facade ever works? He zeros in on us, turns out to be a good-natured guy, gives us room to look, not to pushy asking all the right questions and side-stepping the obviousness of our situation.
Sits us down, runs the numbers and asks if we want to run it past the bank?
I don't know if you've ever had those moments when you have to worry about ONE more inquiry on your credit history or not but it sort of feels like someone decided to park a boat on your face.
I look at Dash. Dash looks at me and we silently are gearing up for the "can we think about it" escape speech when Mr. Calzone senses the fish wiggling for all it's worth on the hook he says,"You have some concerns."
He leans back in his chair steeples his fingers together gets up from his chair holds up one finger and leaves us in his office. I'm sure both of us felt like a deer in headlights - where did he go - 10 minutes passes he's still not back, we're uncomfortable and wanting to run. I can feel our tension like lightening in a thunderhead building. When he returns he's smiling.
Not only did he get a bank to agree to our chosen car and price without checking our credit but also a cash back bonus. Enough to pay off 2 of our high interest rate credit cards for half the APR and do a little necessity shopping. The money that freed up made it possible to make the car and insurance payment.
PLUS! Yes I said plus, there's more - this bank specializes in people like us struggling to rebuild our credit history by doing all the right things and seemingly getting no where, IF after a year all our payments are ON TIME they will offer us a personal line of credit no questions asked!!!
I swear the tide just shifted, I'm numb of course we agreed and we are now 3 short months away from that 1 year line.
Let me tell you about the car and then I will connect the spooky dots for you, m'kay? Good. It was a Blue 2008 Dodge Avenger that had been used as a day rental with 24561 km.
Now for the Spooky - It took 2 days to file all the proper paperwork for pick-up and while we anxiously awaited word from Mr. Calzone when it would be ready I began trying to decide on the cars' name. I know some people think this is silly but it is a tradition handed down from my father all Dodge vehicles in our family must have names starting with the letter "B".
So I settled on Blubell because of the color. When we went to pick up the car we learned that Mr. Calzone was not in fact a salesman but none other than the sales manager and owner of the dealership! He does not broker deals hasn't for 5+ years he's to busy normally, we just happened to catch him as he was escorting out some customers from years past that dropped in to say hello.
The plate that we did not order personalized had part of the name I had chosen on it. So had I not had my accident we would never have been going to the doctor on that day, had I not told Dash to keep driving that extra 1/2 block we wouldn't have gotten Mr. Calzone and I still can't explain the plate.
So many good things have happened since I hurt my knee it just amazes me. Looking back at it hind sight being what it is (20/20) I really believe I had to get hurt in order for the good things to come.
Sometimes even when you're down fate smiles.
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