February 27, 2009
So Dr. N and I have been talking about my body image and how I feel about myself with all the changes my body has been through this year. He told me about a local artist who paints her own body in startling honesty and how it took her years to be able to do so. I'm just so tired of feeling ashamed of my body. There are a few things that have got me thinking . . .
I was reading this book where the main character was a nude model for an art class at a local college. It wasn't salacious or anything. It just gave her this interesting relationship to her body in the book. And in the book her best friend also did the nude modeling, but her best friend was overweight. As I read, I tried to imagine myself doing that; nude modeling. It was strange how imagining it made me feel about my body. It was freeing. Like, what if art students found beauty in all my scars and marks? What if they thought that my body was interesting? Then I started thinking about what beauty is (again) and what I want it to be. I would so much rather look at something interesting than something perfect. Growing up my mom used to say, "Perfect is boring." It's so true.
I stopped at Antigone Books before my appointment with Dr. N last night. It's a feminist book store in town with great gifts and cards too. I ended up in the back of the store where they had chairs set up like a little living room so you could sit and test drive the merchandise after you perused the shelves. The coffee-table books were displayed near this section. There were quite a few photography ones there and I picked up one specifically that was about women's bodies. I sat down and opened up the book that was page after page nude women. None of them were perfect. Many of them were overweight. None of them had scars like me, but I could relate to their stories about how they felt about their bodies. I was so impressed with their courage. Something lifted in me. This is what's beautiful; women as whole beings. Dr. N talked about that too; that all of these experiences I have had are part of me, but none of them are solely me. That all fell into place in my mind. (Ah shucks, I should have bought the book while I was there. Maybe next week I'll pick it up. It would be good to have around to remind myself of what beauty is.)
So I've noticed this shift starting to take place in how I feel about my body. One, I think my body is definitely interesting looking. And two, my body is only a part of who I am. Even further, the part of me that is my physical being tells its own story about my journey. Anyway, I must have been feeling better because on my way home from lunch with a friend today I stopped and bought a few new items of clothing. It was kind of fun thinking about whether each piece fit this new sense of me that is starting to develop. It was also nice to get some clothes that actually fit me physically too. No more FRUMPY!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Just a little help
February 26, 2009
I finished my 5 day course of Cipro last night. We also got a call back from Dr. T's office yesterday afternoon. She said apparently the biopsy results showed that I have cryptitis (inflammation) in my rectum and no pouchitis. I'm supposed to go back to doing the ever-so-lovely nightly enemas of anti-inflammatory medication to treat it. Okay. I've got that routine down pat by now. Can I just also say right now how thankful I am for health insurance? A month's worth of the enemas cost us $360 (before we met our deductible - now they are covered 100%)! There are just so many jokes I could make about enemas, I think I better stop now and let your imagination fill in the rest.
I've been feeling better this week than I did last week, so that's good. Not as good as I was the week before that, but that's okay. At least I know "better" is out there and attainable (right Dad?).
I met with Dr. N for counseling again tonight. It went so well. When I started the session I was feeling so depressed and just tired of it all - like somehow I was going to convince him that yes, I have in fact had enough and it would be okay for me to kill myself. We talked about a range of different topics; work, body image, sex, pain, healing, etc. He challenged my thinking on each of the different issues. "What if instead of telling yourself _____________ you told yourself _____________ about your body (or about beauty or about whatever else I've been a little messed up on)?" By the end of the session I was talking about the freedom I'm starting to experience emotionally through all of this; like I don't have to hide what I'm feeling. I've earned the right to feel whatever I feel and I'm feeling more authentic as a result. Everything was falling together in my mind as I spoke to him and I felt this surge of energy.
"What are you feeling right now?" he asked.
"I'm feeling energized," I responded quickly. Being the good therapist that he is, he asked if that was different than what I was feeling when I started the session. It absolutely was. I started the session barely having the emotional energy to tell him how my week had been. We then talked through what had made the difference in my mood. And of course, much of it was how I interpreted my feelings (both physical and emotional).
I knew what he was doing - cognitive behavioral therapy. In fact, at one point he was talking through a process that I had typed up and handed out to my "Coping Skills Group" as homework. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't because I didn't want to take up my precious 50 minutes by talking about how I knew what theory he was using. It makes me laugh too because how often do we know what it is that we need to do to feel better, we just need a little help getting there?
I finished my 5 day course of Cipro last night. We also got a call back from Dr. T's office yesterday afternoon. She said apparently the biopsy results showed that I have cryptitis (inflammation) in my rectum and no pouchitis. I'm supposed to go back to doing the ever-so-lovely nightly enemas of anti-inflammatory medication to treat it. Okay. I've got that routine down pat by now. Can I just also say right now how thankful I am for health insurance? A month's worth of the enemas cost us $360 (before we met our deductible - now they are covered 100%)! There are just so many jokes I could make about enemas, I think I better stop now and let your imagination fill in the rest.
I've been feeling better this week than I did last week, so that's good. Not as good as I was the week before that, but that's okay. At least I know "better" is out there and attainable (right Dad?).
I met with Dr. N for counseling again tonight. It went so well. When I started the session I was feeling so depressed and just tired of it all - like somehow I was going to convince him that yes, I have in fact had enough and it would be okay for me to kill myself. We talked about a range of different topics; work, body image, sex, pain, healing, etc. He challenged my thinking on each of the different issues. "What if instead of telling yourself _____________ you told yourself _____________ about your body (or about beauty or about whatever else I've been a little messed up on)?" By the end of the session I was talking about the freedom I'm starting to experience emotionally through all of this; like I don't have to hide what I'm feeling. I've earned the right to feel whatever I feel and I'm feeling more authentic as a result. Everything was falling together in my mind as I spoke to him and I felt this surge of energy.
"What are you feeling right now?" he asked.
"I'm feeling energized," I responded quickly. Being the good therapist that he is, he asked if that was different than what I was feeling when I started the session. It absolutely was. I started the session barely having the emotional energy to tell him how my week had been. We then talked through what had made the difference in my mood. And of course, much of it was how I interpreted my feelings (both physical and emotional).
I knew what he was doing - cognitive behavioral therapy. In fact, at one point he was talking through a process that I had typed up and handed out to my "Coping Skills Group" as homework. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't because I didn't want to take up my precious 50 minutes by talking about how I knew what theory he was using. It makes me laugh too because how often do we know what it is that we need to do to feel better, we just need a little help getting there?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
To Harper
February 24, 2009
To Harper:
We were connected, you and me. My fluid became yours. Your fluid became mine. I felt the pulses of you. Suddenly it's hit me that you gave up. You reached a point where you couldn't go on any more. Or did my body fail you? Did I give up for you? Where did I end and you begin? Because a mother needs to know. What was I responsible for? Sweet child. Did my body fail you? Did you know you were giving up? What was that moment like for you? Please say it was peaceful. God please say my child was at peace. To imagine you struggling inside me, because of me; it's too much. Too much for a mother's heart.
To Harper:
We were connected, you and me. My fluid became yours. Your fluid became mine. I felt the pulses of you. Suddenly it's hit me that you gave up. You reached a point where you couldn't go on any more. Or did my body fail you? Did I give up for you? Where did I end and you begin? Because a mother needs to know. What was I responsible for? Sweet child. Did my body fail you? Did you know you were giving up? What was that moment like for you? Please say it was peaceful. God please say my child was at peace. To imagine you struggling inside me, because of me; it's too much. Too much for a mother's heart.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Window shopping
February 23, 2009
Today was a better day. I got a good night's sleep last night; only woke up once before my alarm went off. I really can't remember when I slept that much. The morning went well and I was cruising until later afternoon. So I'm going to focus on the good part of the day. It was really nice to have a good part of the day.
I was thinking about who I am today; how I see myself, who I want to be. I feel very lost right now in figuring that all out. I've been reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird lately. I read it in a college creative writing course and I come back to it from time to time when I'm feeling inspired about writing. (She's one of my favorite authors.) Anyway, she talks in the book about how writers need to focus on the things that people do and say that tell you who they are. Everything we chose to do or not to do is telling others about who we are. Things like what kind of car you drive, but not just that, do you have bumper stickers on your car? Do you have anything dangling from the rear view mirror. Things like what you're wearing, but not just that, how are you wearing your clothes? Are you wearing stilettos and almost falling over every time you turn a corner, or are you able to skip down the hallway in them?
So I was also thinking about myself. What am I saying about myself these days? What am I telling the world? I went on-line this evening and was doing some "window" shopping for clothes. Let me back up, on the elevator this morning I was going up with a woman who I assume was an attorney (I work in the Legal Services building). She was perfectly, perfectly, dressed from head to toe. Her hair was expertly styled, make-up impeccable, carrying a Coach purse (I can't believe I actually noticed the label on some one's purse). I'm sure her shiny shoes were expensive too. I think I was a little jealous. Yeah. I was. And it's funny because I've never been a name brand person or anything like that at all. I think what I was jealous of was that she seemed so confident of who she was; head to toe.
Me? I feel frumpy. Did I put a capital "F" on that? Because there should be one: Frum-py. I feel like I must not be seeing myself clearly right now because every time I put on my clothes I'm surprised that they don't fit me. Even my medium-sized shirts are baggy on me. I have to choke back my tears just writing about this. Granted, I have made some progress in putting on weight, but it's just not as quickly as I would want. So all day I walk around in these clothes that are baggy and I'm reminded by the swooshing of my pant legs that I'm not as healthy as I used to be.
On my drive home I was trying to think about just one outfit I have that I feel good in - that feels like ME. I couldn't think of one. I'm just not comfortable in my own skin (literally). So I think that any message I put out there for the world about who I am doesn't feel right. I'm changed and it's going to take some time to figure out who this new person is.
Today was a better day. I got a good night's sleep last night; only woke up once before my alarm went off. I really can't remember when I slept that much. The morning went well and I was cruising until later afternoon. So I'm going to focus on the good part of the day. It was really nice to have a good part of the day.
I was thinking about who I am today; how I see myself, who I want to be. I feel very lost right now in figuring that all out. I've been reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird lately. I read it in a college creative writing course and I come back to it from time to time when I'm feeling inspired about writing. (She's one of my favorite authors.) Anyway, she talks in the book about how writers need to focus on the things that people do and say that tell you who they are. Everything we chose to do or not to do is telling others about who we are. Things like what kind of car you drive, but not just that, do you have bumper stickers on your car? Do you have anything dangling from the rear view mirror. Things like what you're wearing, but not just that, how are you wearing your clothes? Are you wearing stilettos and almost falling over every time you turn a corner, or are you able to skip down the hallway in them?
So I was also thinking about myself. What am I saying about myself these days? What am I telling the world? I went on-line this evening and was doing some "window" shopping for clothes. Let me back up, on the elevator this morning I was going up with a woman who I assume was an attorney (I work in the Legal Services building). She was perfectly, perfectly, dressed from head to toe. Her hair was expertly styled, make-up impeccable, carrying a Coach purse (I can't believe I actually noticed the label on some one's purse). I'm sure her shiny shoes were expensive too. I think I was a little jealous. Yeah. I was. And it's funny because I've never been a name brand person or anything like that at all. I think what I was jealous of was that she seemed so confident of who she was; head to toe.
Me? I feel frumpy. Did I put a capital "F" on that? Because there should be one: Frum-py. I feel like I must not be seeing myself clearly right now because every time I put on my clothes I'm surprised that they don't fit me. Even my medium-sized shirts are baggy on me. I have to choke back my tears just writing about this. Granted, I have made some progress in putting on weight, but it's just not as quickly as I would want. So all day I walk around in these clothes that are baggy and I'm reminded by the swooshing of my pant legs that I'm not as healthy as I used to be.
On my drive home I was trying to think about just one outfit I have that I feel good in - that feels like ME. I couldn't think of one. I'm just not comfortable in my own skin (literally). So I think that any message I put out there for the world about who I am doesn't feel right. I'm changed and it's going to take some time to figure out who this new person is.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The life of a marriage
February 22, 2009
I've been trying to stay positive this weekend and think I've been pretty successful. I'm still not feeling well physically. I've been in quite a bit of pain. I keep hoping that if the Cipro isn't helping me that perhaps there will be some sort of placebo effect and I'll start feeling better anyway. I'm also really hoping that Dr. T has some answers on Wednesday about the biopsies she did on Friday.
I tried each day this weekend to get out for a little bit, mostly so I don't think of myself as being sick. I'm tired of that. While Jeremy and I were out running some errands I saw a woman who I used to work with. I didn't talk to her. The last time I saw her Jeremy and I were at the grocery store and I had just had my surgery. We had lost Harper just a couple of weeks earlier. I was wearing loose fitting clothes because of my ostomy bag. I think my stomach was probably swollen a little too. Anyway, she asked if we were expecting and I had to explain what had happened. It was one of the first firsts for me.
It feels like everywhere I go I'm haunted by memories. And each day that passes I'm reminded of what was happening on this day last year. I feel this never ending need to purge. I catch myself saying, "When I was in the hospital . . . " and I think, They don't want to hear about your stupid hospital experiences any more Abby.
Jeremy and I got into this heated debate over music and books on Friday on our way to the hospital for my biopsy. We both were pretty impassioned arguing our points to the other. It cracked me up how involved we were in this discussion. But it also relieved me. We can talk about other things. We can interact with each other about things other than doctor's appointments, medications, sadness. There are so many ways that a marriage is tested when you go through something like what Jeremy and I have been through. It's like I have to tell myself, we aren't just surviving here any more Abby, we have to actually live and focus on the life of our marriage too.
You know, I love being married. I have always loved it. I love the man I'm married to too. It's so interesting to me to see the life of a marriage and how it plays out and how it grows and changes. I have to remind myself to be mindful of our marriage right now. It needs nurturing now probably more than ever. I'm grateful for those break-through moments when a fresh breath is breathed into our marriage, like during our "argument" the other day.
I've been trying to stay positive this weekend and think I've been pretty successful. I'm still not feeling well physically. I've been in quite a bit of pain. I keep hoping that if the Cipro isn't helping me that perhaps there will be some sort of placebo effect and I'll start feeling better anyway. I'm also really hoping that Dr. T has some answers on Wednesday about the biopsies she did on Friday.
I tried each day this weekend to get out for a little bit, mostly so I don't think of myself as being sick. I'm tired of that. While Jeremy and I were out running some errands I saw a woman who I used to work with. I didn't talk to her. The last time I saw her Jeremy and I were at the grocery store and I had just had my surgery. We had lost Harper just a couple of weeks earlier. I was wearing loose fitting clothes because of my ostomy bag. I think my stomach was probably swollen a little too. Anyway, she asked if we were expecting and I had to explain what had happened. It was one of the first firsts for me.
It feels like everywhere I go I'm haunted by memories. And each day that passes I'm reminded of what was happening on this day last year. I feel this never ending need to purge. I catch myself saying, "When I was in the hospital . . . " and I think, They don't want to hear about your stupid hospital experiences any more Abby.
Jeremy and I got into this heated debate over music and books on Friday on our way to the hospital for my biopsy. We both were pretty impassioned arguing our points to the other. It cracked me up how involved we were in this discussion. But it also relieved me. We can talk about other things. We can interact with each other about things other than doctor's appointments, medications, sadness. There are so many ways that a marriage is tested when you go through something like what Jeremy and I have been through. It's like I have to tell myself, we aren't just surviving here any more Abby, we have to actually live and focus on the life of our marriage too.
You know, I love being married. I have always loved it. I love the man I'm married to too. It's so interesting to me to see the life of a marriage and how it plays out and how it grows and changes. I have to remind myself to be mindful of our marriage right now. It needs nurturing now probably more than ever. I'm grateful for those break-through moments when a fresh breath is breathed into our marriage, like during our "argument" the other day.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Cipro do your magic
February 20, 2009
It's been a tough week. I tried so hard to feel better, but it just wasn't happening. Wednesday I woke up and was in pain and felt so worn out, I just couldn't get in to the office in the morning. Then I got in to see Dr. T in the afternoon, but she didn't have any answers really. Thursday I got to work in the morning but was in so much pain in the afternoon I had to go home early. I think I got scared too. I don't know how I can do this every day. Thursday afternoon I went to the bathroom and honestly, I felt like my body was going to just stop working - too much pain - that's it. I hardly had it in me to push, but when my body had to I just broke down in tears. So I called Dr. T's office again and said the pain had gotten worse and asked if she wanted me to come in to the GI lab in the morning. The nurse talked with Dr. T and told me I should go to the GI lab.
So this morning Jeremy and I headed over to the hospital GI lab - again. We sat for two and half hours in the waiting room. Finally I got called back. I broke down crying again when one of the nurses asked me the check-in questions thinking about Jeremy. "What's the matter sweetheart?" she asked. "I just feel so bad for all my husband's been through because of me," I said as I wiped my tears away with my arm. He came back to the prep area after they got my IV started and I told him what I was feeling. He reassured me that I didn't have to worry. God bless him.
Dr. T came in before the procedure and said she was going to do a biopsy of my pouch and my rectum. She said that would tell us whether I had pouchitis or whether my Ulcerative Colitis was possibly flaring in my rectum. She said she doubted she would have to dilate me, but that she would if she needed to. She said she was going to send me home on a 5 day course of Cipro because the Cipro would treat either of those things if they were happening. She will have the results on Wednesday and will let me know then if I need a longer course of treatment.
For some reason I remember the procedure a little more this week than I have in the past. I think maybe because I was trying to participate and see what was going on and not just go to sleep. She did end up dilating me a little too. So I guess we'll see what happens. I started on the Cipro tonight. I have a feeling it's going to help. I was on Cipro last week when I felt well and then started feeling bad again after it stopped. Who knows? Dr. T has me scheduled for a defacography study on March 27th. She'll be getting new equipment on the 23rd and said I'll be the first patient she'll study. It should tell us whether there is nerve damage and things like that going on and causing me pain.
I got home and took a four hour nap. That's the most I've slept in a long time. The last few nights I have been waking up every hour and a half to two hours to go to the bathroom. It's so hard to deal with all of this without having adequate sleep. I'm even taking sleeping medication to help, but it doesn't seem to be doing the job. Ugh.
Yeah, I've been in a lot of physical pain this week, but emotionally it hasn't been as bad as it was the last time I wasn't feeling well. I just need hope right now that we're going to figure this out. I think the frustrating thing is that there isn't necessarily just one answer to the problem - there could be multiple things going on. If you're a praying person, please pray for Dr. T - that she is patient with me and that she has wisdom in how to deal with all of this. I know I've got her a bit befuddled.
It's been a tough week. I tried so hard to feel better, but it just wasn't happening. Wednesday I woke up and was in pain and felt so worn out, I just couldn't get in to the office in the morning. Then I got in to see Dr. T in the afternoon, but she didn't have any answers really. Thursday I got to work in the morning but was in so much pain in the afternoon I had to go home early. I think I got scared too. I don't know how I can do this every day. Thursday afternoon I went to the bathroom and honestly, I felt like my body was going to just stop working - too much pain - that's it. I hardly had it in me to push, but when my body had to I just broke down in tears. So I called Dr. T's office again and said the pain had gotten worse and asked if she wanted me to come in to the GI lab in the morning. The nurse talked with Dr. T and told me I should go to the GI lab.
So this morning Jeremy and I headed over to the hospital GI lab - again. We sat for two and half hours in the waiting room. Finally I got called back. I broke down crying again when one of the nurses asked me the check-in questions thinking about Jeremy. "What's the matter sweetheart?" she asked. "I just feel so bad for all my husband's been through because of me," I said as I wiped my tears away with my arm. He came back to the prep area after they got my IV started and I told him what I was feeling. He reassured me that I didn't have to worry. God bless him.
Dr. T came in before the procedure and said she was going to do a biopsy of my pouch and my rectum. She said that would tell us whether I had pouchitis or whether my Ulcerative Colitis was possibly flaring in my rectum. She said she doubted she would have to dilate me, but that she would if she needed to. She said she was going to send me home on a 5 day course of Cipro because the Cipro would treat either of those things if they were happening. She will have the results on Wednesday and will let me know then if I need a longer course of treatment.
For some reason I remember the procedure a little more this week than I have in the past. I think maybe because I was trying to participate and see what was going on and not just go to sleep. She did end up dilating me a little too. So I guess we'll see what happens. I started on the Cipro tonight. I have a feeling it's going to help. I was on Cipro last week when I felt well and then started feeling bad again after it stopped. Who knows? Dr. T has me scheduled for a defacography study on March 27th. She'll be getting new equipment on the 23rd and said I'll be the first patient she'll study. It should tell us whether there is nerve damage and things like that going on and causing me pain.
I got home and took a four hour nap. That's the most I've slept in a long time. The last few nights I have been waking up every hour and a half to two hours to go to the bathroom. It's so hard to deal with all of this without having adequate sleep. I'm even taking sleeping medication to help, but it doesn't seem to be doing the job. Ugh.
Yeah, I've been in a lot of physical pain this week, but emotionally it hasn't been as bad as it was the last time I wasn't feeling well. I just need hope right now that we're going to figure this out. I think the frustrating thing is that there isn't necessarily just one answer to the problem - there could be multiple things going on. If you're a praying person, please pray for Dr. T - that she is patient with me and that she has wisdom in how to deal with all of this. I know I've got her a bit befuddled.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Anger to bitterness
February 18, 2009
I'm scattered and tired and for the life of me can't get anything written right now that makes sense. I'm thinking a lot about anger that I've experienced this past year in a couple of circumstances and I think the anger is turning to a little bitterness. I'm not quite sure how to handle it. Hmmm . . . This one might take me a little time.
I'm scattered and tired and for the life of me can't get anything written right now that makes sense. I'm thinking a lot about anger that I've experienced this past year in a couple of circumstances and I think the anger is turning to a little bitterness. I'm not quite sure how to handle it. Hmmm . . . This one might take me a little time.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sleep tight
February 17, 2009
I'm starting to slide physically. I can't even write about it I'm so bummed. I feel like I'm disappointing everyone who was so excited for me that I was feeling well. Emotionally though I'm holding up pretty well. I think I'm going to place a call in to Dr. T tomorrow and see what she can do for me, if anything. I have a few theories about what's going on, but I'm not going to bore you with the details. Let's just hope for a good night's sleep tonight and call it a day. Last night I woke up every hour and a half to two hours to go to the bathroom - all night long. I'm pretty tired.
Sleep tight.
I'm starting to slide physically. I can't even write about it I'm so bummed. I feel like I'm disappointing everyone who was so excited for me that I was feeling well. Emotionally though I'm holding up pretty well. I think I'm going to place a call in to Dr. T tomorrow and see what she can do for me, if anything. I have a few theories about what's going on, but I'm not going to bore you with the details. Let's just hope for a good night's sleep tonight and call it a day. Last night I woke up every hour and a half to two hours to go to the bathroom - all night long. I'm pretty tired.
Sleep tight.
Monday, February 16, 2009
What if?
February 16, 2009
Things have still been going well for me. Yesterday and today I've been a little more tired out. Nothing some good rest and sleep won't take care of. I'm a little scared nonetheless. Every little thing that happens to my body gets my mind a whirring . . . what if this, what if that? I need to let go of that.
I had this moment today when I felt at ease about my health though. I thought, my body is going to do what it's going to do. There's nothing I can do to change that. Really, somewhere in the recesses of my mind I believe that I can just will myself to good health. There is part of me that feels guilty when I don't feel well; like somehow I'm responsible for it. I'm sure I'll get over that too, eventually.
Things have still been going well for me. Yesterday and today I've been a little more tired out. Nothing some good rest and sleep won't take care of. I'm a little scared nonetheless. Every little thing that happens to my body gets my mind a whirring . . . what if this, what if that? I need to let go of that.
I had this moment today when I felt at ease about my health though. I thought, my body is going to do what it's going to do. There's nothing I can do to change that. Really, somewhere in the recesses of my mind I believe that I can just will myself to good health. There is part of me that feels guilty when I don't feel well; like somehow I'm responsible for it. I'm sure I'll get over that too, eventually.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Relief
February 14, 2009
All I've been able to think about all day is how good I'm feeling. I don't know what's happened, but I'm hoping and praying that I've turned a corner.
My dad's here visiting us for a couple days. When he was here in December he bricked in our fireplace for us as our Christmas gift. I ended up in the hospital that weekend. The infection I had was some of the worst pain I have ever experienced.
Today we started our day going to a wood shop and purchasing the wood for our mantel piece. We stained the wood and then put the mantel up. We're finishing off the day sitting in front of the fire listening to a little Nick Drake and enjoying the beauty and the peace. I couldn't help but cry. My mind has been consumed by my pain for so long. Too long. And now there is freedom. I couldn't help but think about the times I cried out to God for a break, just a short break from the pain. And now there's relief. All day long I'm marveled at how good I feel and how thankful I am for it.
The dilation yesterday went well. Dr. T said I won't need to keep doing them any longer. When she walked in the prep area and I told her that I had had a good week she said, "Oh Abigail, I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that. You made my day!"
I have abandoned reservation at this point. I'm embracing my good days with open arms and a heart full of hope! So here's to hope!!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Authenticity
February 12, 2009
There is a new feeling I'm experiencing. Can you imagine what it's like after almost 34 years of living to be experiencing a new feeling? It's a type of love, I know that much. It just gushes up inside me and bubbles over and I don't know what to do with it. I try to express it to people, but words fail me.
Am I just starting to really feel what love is? You know, using the word love just doesn't do justice to what I'm talking about either. Because I have loved before now. Like I said, this is completely new. And I'm hungry for it. I want to be around the people that I feel it for. Okay, now it's all starting to form in my mind. I think I see what's happening here.
I am changing. I am more in touch with my authentic self. I'm not lying to myself about who I am or what I am. I'm not trying to be perfect or have it all together. I've been whittled to the bone and all that's left is me, imperfect and true.
I think either being authentic myself is opening this new floodgate of feelings, or I'm connecting with other people who are also authentic. Either way, it is amazing to me.
There is a new feeling I'm experiencing. Can you imagine what it's like after almost 34 years of living to be experiencing a new feeling? It's a type of love, I know that much. It just gushes up inside me and bubbles over and I don't know what to do with it. I try to express it to people, but words fail me.
Am I just starting to really feel what love is? You know, using the word love just doesn't do justice to what I'm talking about either. Because I have loved before now. Like I said, this is completely new. And I'm hungry for it. I want to be around the people that I feel it for. Okay, now it's all starting to form in my mind. I think I see what's happening here.
I am changing. I am more in touch with my authentic self. I'm not lying to myself about who I am or what I am. I'm not trying to be perfect or have it all together. I've been whittled to the bone and all that's left is me, imperfect and true.
I think either being authentic myself is opening this new floodgate of feelings, or I'm connecting with other people who are also authentic. Either way, it is amazing to me.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Forward thinking
February 11, 2009
Another pretty good day under my belt. I didn't have to take any pain meds until this evening. Unbelievable. I'm starting to feel alive again. When I say that, it's not just some cliche statement. There are actual, notable differences in how my mind is working these days. Besides not thinking about suicide on a daily basis (which I talked about already the other day), there are things that I am thinking about that I haven't thought about in a long time. I love it. It feels like walking into your home after a long vacation where your transmission died on Highway 94 and there weren't any shoulders to pull over on so you had to keep the speed at a steady pace so as not to switch gears and kill the engine until you got to a safe exit and instead of spending your vacation money on Six Flags, you ended up spending it on, yes, a new transmission. True story.
Today I found myself thinking about the following things that told me I was coming alive again:
1) I wonder if I should go back to school for writing - or maybe just audit a course of two?
2) I wonder if Jeremy and I should "adopt" an adult who has Down Syndrome whose parents are elderly and they need to know someone is going to care for their child. (No specific person in mind - just a thought.)
3) It would be nice to go for a hike in the mountains.
4) I already have a ticket to meet my sister in Vegas in May! What will I wear?
I guess just thinking about the future in and of itself is a major coup for me. A future with something in it other than surgery anyway.
Something that's a little more of a downer hit me today too. I know when you read this you're going to say, "Duh Abby!" but hear me out. I think I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So here's the clinical social worker in me - everyone in our society thinks that if you go through something "traumatic" you end up with PTSD, but that's not true. There are some very specific symptoms that you have to have to be diagnosed with PTSD. One is that it has to have been at least six months since the incident occurred, otherwise you could be diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder, but I digress. So, yes, it's been six months . . . You or a loved one has to have come close to death, died, or been fearful of death because of the incident (this is just by memory okay - so don't pull out your DSM-IV and check to see if I'm completely accurate here okay?). Check. Then you have to have a few symptoms (I don't remember how many exactly but there is an exact number) like flashbacks, avoidance of things associated with the trauma, oh, now I'm going to go get my DSM-IV because I'm curious what I'm forgetting here.
Here if you're curious: http://www.mental-health-today.com/ptsd/dsm.htm. I won't bore you (if I haven't already)!
Okay, so anyway, I was on my way to work this morning and I think I had a flashback. I got to thinking about how I was always woken up early, like early-early (5:30 a.m. sometimes) when I was in the hospital by doctors just entering my room and saying my name. It was like I was watching it all play out before me and my heart started beating fast, my chest started pounding. It was pretty intense. I felt all these feelings of helplessness and I wanted to scream till I lost my voice, "Just let me sleep!" And then I thought about how I get uncomfortable watching television shows that are located in hospitals. When I first got home from the hospital I would change the channel. I just couldn't watch. That kind of stuff happens to me quite a bit actually. Hmmm . . . good thing I'm starting counseling on Friday, huh? That'll give us something to talk about.
Anyway, it's good to know why these things are happening. Now I can start to fix it.
Another pretty good day under my belt. I didn't have to take any pain meds until this evening. Unbelievable. I'm starting to feel alive again. When I say that, it's not just some cliche statement. There are actual, notable differences in how my mind is working these days. Besides not thinking about suicide on a daily basis (which I talked about already the other day), there are things that I am thinking about that I haven't thought about in a long time. I love it. It feels like walking into your home after a long vacation where your transmission died on Highway 94 and there weren't any shoulders to pull over on so you had to keep the speed at a steady pace so as not to switch gears and kill the engine until you got to a safe exit and instead of spending your vacation money on Six Flags, you ended up spending it on, yes, a new transmission. True story.
Today I found myself thinking about the following things that told me I was coming alive again:
1) I wonder if I should go back to school for writing - or maybe just audit a course of two?
2) I wonder if Jeremy and I should "adopt" an adult who has Down Syndrome whose parents are elderly and they need to know someone is going to care for their child. (No specific person in mind - just a thought.)
3) It would be nice to go for a hike in the mountains.
4) I already have a ticket to meet my sister in Vegas in May! What will I wear?
I guess just thinking about the future in and of itself is a major coup for me. A future with something in it other than surgery anyway.
Something that's a little more of a downer hit me today too. I know when you read this you're going to say, "Duh Abby!" but hear me out. I think I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So here's the clinical social worker in me - everyone in our society thinks that if you go through something "traumatic" you end up with PTSD, but that's not true. There are some very specific symptoms that you have to have to be diagnosed with PTSD. One is that it has to have been at least six months since the incident occurred, otherwise you could be diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder, but I digress. So, yes, it's been six months . . . You or a loved one has to have come close to death, died, or been fearful of death because of the incident (this is just by memory okay - so don't pull out your DSM-IV and check to see if I'm completely accurate here okay?). Check. Then you have to have a few symptoms (I don't remember how many exactly but there is an exact number) like flashbacks, avoidance of things associated with the trauma, oh, now I'm going to go get my DSM-IV because I'm curious what I'm forgetting here.
Here if you're curious: http://www.mental-health-today.com/ptsd/dsm.htm. I won't bore you (if I haven't already)!
Okay, so anyway, I was on my way to work this morning and I think I had a flashback. I got to thinking about how I was always woken up early, like early-early (5:30 a.m. sometimes) when I was in the hospital by doctors just entering my room and saying my name. It was like I was watching it all play out before me and my heart started beating fast, my chest started pounding. It was pretty intense. I felt all these feelings of helplessness and I wanted to scream till I lost my voice, "Just let me sleep!" And then I thought about how I get uncomfortable watching television shows that are located in hospitals. When I first got home from the hospital I would change the channel. I just couldn't watch. That kind of stuff happens to me quite a bit actually. Hmmm . . . good thing I'm starting counseling on Friday, huh? That'll give us something to talk about.
Anyway, it's good to know why these things are happening. Now I can start to fix it.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Love's Recovery
February 10, 2009
Last night Jeremy set our coffee pot for 6:00 a.m. so I woke up to the smell of brewing coffee this morning. I started my day bundled up in my way-too-long red scarf that I crocheted a few years back. My coffee kept my hands warm and I figured I wouldn't feel too bad for myself with the cold front that hit us smack dab in the face if all it took to warm me up was a cup of coffee.
On my drive in to work the clouds were hanging low over the Catalinas. I could see snow sneaking down closer and closer to the valley. It was so beautiful. For those of you who have never been to Tucson, the city is surrounded by mountains on every side. I thought about the Tucson Mountains to the west and how Jeremy and I love to hike there. We stop to marvel and play at the petroglyphs each time on our way up to Wasson Peak. It was actually on that very hike just over four years ago that I was on such a high from making it to the top for the first time that I committed to run the Chicago Marathon with Jason the next year (he was there hiking with Jeremy and me).
The rest of my day went so well too. This is the third day in a row where my pain has felt manageable and I've not had thoughts of suicide raging through my head like a hungover drunk. I am so relieved I could cry. I kept reminding myself all day long, "This doesn't mean you're all better Abby." But still, thoughts of fun things for my future started popping up in my mind. Jeremy and I could actually go on a vacation together - and enjoy our time! In September of 2007 we celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary and took a road trip to San Diego for a long weekend. We stayed at a historic hotel in Little Italy and ate good food. It was one of the best trips I've been on. We had so much fun together. We laughed and played like children in the ocean. Oh God, that we could do that again! (What is this strange creature? Could it be? Is this hope?)
On my way home from work I was thinking about Jeremy. He made dinner for me last night and it was ready for me when I got home. As I sat in my study and wrote after dinner he poked his head in and asked if he could get me some water or dessert or anything before he took off for his evening gig. He was taking care of me. It was so sweet. I thought about how much I love him. I feel so bonded to this man. It seems so unfair to spend your life growing in love with another person, only to end up leaving each other in your old age. Ah, but I don't need to crawl into that dark corner right now.
Suffice it to say, I was feeling a lot of love for the man God blessed me with. I thought about all the life decisions we will have to face together in our future and how confident I am that we will survive the butting of heads caused by differences of opinions. We've been through so much. And today, I feel confident and secure in our love. Like the Indigo Girls' song, Love's Recovery. I love that song.
Last night Jeremy set our coffee pot for 6:00 a.m. so I woke up to the smell of brewing coffee this morning. I started my day bundled up in my way-too-long red scarf that I crocheted a few years back. My coffee kept my hands warm and I figured I wouldn't feel too bad for myself with the cold front that hit us smack dab in the face if all it took to warm me up was a cup of coffee.
On my drive in to work the clouds were hanging low over the Catalinas. I could see snow sneaking down closer and closer to the valley. It was so beautiful. For those of you who have never been to Tucson, the city is surrounded by mountains on every side. I thought about the Tucson Mountains to the west and how Jeremy and I love to hike there. We stop to marvel and play at the petroglyphs each time on our way up to Wasson Peak. It was actually on that very hike just over four years ago that I was on such a high from making it to the top for the first time that I committed to run the Chicago Marathon with Jason the next year (he was there hiking with Jeremy and me).
The rest of my day went so well too. This is the third day in a row where my pain has felt manageable and I've not had thoughts of suicide raging through my head like a hungover drunk. I am so relieved I could cry. I kept reminding myself all day long, "This doesn't mean you're all better Abby." But still, thoughts of fun things for my future started popping up in my mind. Jeremy and I could actually go on a vacation together - and enjoy our time! In September of 2007 we celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary and took a road trip to San Diego for a long weekend. We stayed at a historic hotel in Little Italy and ate good food. It was one of the best trips I've been on. We had so much fun together. We laughed and played like children in the ocean. Oh God, that we could do that again! (What is this strange creature? Could it be? Is this hope?)
On my way home from work I was thinking about Jeremy. He made dinner for me last night and it was ready for me when I got home. As I sat in my study and wrote after dinner he poked his head in and asked if he could get me some water or dessert or anything before he took off for his evening gig. He was taking care of me. It was so sweet. I thought about how much I love him. I feel so bonded to this man. It seems so unfair to spend your life growing in love with another person, only to end up leaving each other in your old age. Ah, but I don't need to crawl into that dark corner right now.
Suffice it to say, I was feeling a lot of love for the man God blessed me with. I thought about all the life decisions we will have to face together in our future and how confident I am that we will survive the butting of heads caused by differences of opinions. We've been through so much. And today, I feel confident and secure in our love. Like the Indigo Girls' song, Love's Recovery. I love that song.
LOVE'S RECOVERY
During the time of which I speak it was hard to turn the other cheek
To the blows of insecurity
Feeding the cancer of my intellect the blood of love soon neglected
Lay dying in the strength of its impurity
Meanwhile our friends we thought were so together
They've all gone and left each other in search of fairer weather
And we sit here in our storm and drink a toast
To the slim chance of love's recovery
There I am in younger days, star gazing,
Painting picture perfect maps of how my life and love would be
Not counting the unmarked paths of misdirection
My compass, faith in love's perfection
I missed ten million miles of road I should have seen
Meanwhile our friends we thought were so together
Left each other one by one in search of fairer weather
And we sit here in our storm and drink a toast
To the slim chance of love's recovery.
Rain soaked and voice choked like silent screaming in a dream
I search for our absolute distinction
Not content to bow and bent
To the whims of culture that swoop like vultures
Eating us away, eating us away
Eating us away to our extinction
Oh how I wish I were a trinity, so if I lost a part of me
I'd still have two of the same to live
But nobody gets a lifetime rehearsal, as specks of dust we're universal
To let this love survive would be the greatest gift we could give
Tell all the friends who think they're so together
That these are ghosts and mirages, these thoughts of fairer weather
Though it's storming out I feel safe within the arms of love's discovery
Monday, February 9, 2009
Stepping outside myself
February 9, 2009
I need to step outside of myself today, but in a different way than usual. I need to, and want to think about other people, not just myself today. I am not the only person in this world who is experiencing grief and pain. I was thinking about one of my clients at my old job on my way home from work. He would show up at the clinic from time to time, high, manic, and I was always so relieved to see him dressed in his tight skirt and wearing heavy make-up, but I worried that he was going to get beat up. I hope that he's still alive. I hope I run across him sometime. Talk about a tough life. He has a tough life and my heart breaks for the sadness I saw in his eyes, even though he always smiled and hugged me when I saw him. So much sadness that he was alone with. I am not alone. Thank you God that I am not alone.
And this evening I got some tough news. The senior partner at the law firm I used to work for passed away today. He was a good man. When I say he was a good man, I mean the kind of good that men across every generation recognize as being good; the kind of man that is kind and gentle and fair, and every day he thought about other people. He was a husband, a father, and a grandfather. He was a friend to so many people. Oh these words don't do him justice.
I was touched that he cared enough about me to send me e-mails and cards when I was sick. He told me that he was praying for me. I knew that he prayed every day too. His faith was an inspiration to me. As I'm sitting here thinking about him, I'm realizing that there is this feeling of comfort coming over me at the thought of him in heaven. You know why? Because there are things about his personality that fit my image of God; grandfatherly, wise, stern (he was the senior partner), gentle. There's something comforting for me in knowing that his spirit is there with God. It helps me think of God as an approachable person. If that makes sense?
My thoughts go to the emptiness that will be felt now that he's gone. God comfort everyone feeling his loss. Comfort God; we need comfort. I didn't understand grief before. I do now. And I suppose that means that when I am well enough to step outside of myself on a more regular basis (like every day), that I will be able to be the comfort for others that I see that they need. That's a gift, isn't it?
I need to step outside of myself today, but in a different way than usual. I need to, and want to think about other people, not just myself today. I am not the only person in this world who is experiencing grief and pain. I was thinking about one of my clients at my old job on my way home from work. He would show up at the clinic from time to time, high, manic, and I was always so relieved to see him dressed in his tight skirt and wearing heavy make-up, but I worried that he was going to get beat up. I hope that he's still alive. I hope I run across him sometime. Talk about a tough life. He has a tough life and my heart breaks for the sadness I saw in his eyes, even though he always smiled and hugged me when I saw him. So much sadness that he was alone with. I am not alone. Thank you God that I am not alone.
And this evening I got some tough news. The senior partner at the law firm I used to work for passed away today. He was a good man. When I say he was a good man, I mean the kind of good that men across every generation recognize as being good; the kind of man that is kind and gentle and fair, and every day he thought about other people. He was a husband, a father, and a grandfather. He was a friend to so many people. Oh these words don't do him justice.
I was touched that he cared enough about me to send me e-mails and cards when I was sick. He told me that he was praying for me. I knew that he prayed every day too. His faith was an inspiration to me. As I'm sitting here thinking about him, I'm realizing that there is this feeling of comfort coming over me at the thought of him in heaven. You know why? Because there are things about his personality that fit my image of God; grandfatherly, wise, stern (he was the senior partner), gentle. There's something comforting for me in knowing that his spirit is there with God. It helps me think of God as an approachable person. If that makes sense?
My thoughts go to the emptiness that will be felt now that he's gone. God comfort everyone feeling his loss. Comfort God; we need comfort. I didn't understand grief before. I do now. And I suppose that means that when I am well enough to step outside of myself on a more regular basis (like every day), that I will be able to be the comfort for others that I see that they need. That's a gift, isn't it?
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Daughter-less mother
February 8, 2009
I feel my mood lifting some today. It's only been a couple of days since my dose of anti-depressants was doubled, but already I'm noticing a difference. I don't think about death every time I experience pain. It's such a relief I could cry.
I had a dream the other night that Martha Stewart was over for dinner and I had a baby boy who was fussy. He was probably 8 or 9 months old. He was arching his back and looking me straight in the eye like we were going to get into a power struggle. And you know what? I didn't care. I wanted to parent him well, but I was just so happy to have him I didn't care that he was fussing. I didn't care that Martha was there either.
There is no sound that can fill a home the way the sound of a child can. Just a thought I've been having.
I've been kind of angry at God tonight. I feel like he's talking to all these people around me, and not to me. I have been telling him how much I need comforting - a deep down kind of comforting, but I'm not feeling it. My heart is aching. Why isn't he comforting me? Am I looking for something too grand? Do I want a miracle that isn't going to happen? I don't know. I'm really quite frustrated.
Oh, there it is. There's the pain and the anger. I can feel it now. The tears are hot behind my eyes. I thought when I was pregnant that I had finally figured out what I was supposed to do. I felt this peace that I had never felt before - never. All the time before I was pregnant I spent thinking about what I should be doing with my life. I was just trying to occupy my empty time. Then when I got pregnant, I had this sense of purpose. It was amazing. I was totally amazed by the process. And all the thoughts that had swirled around in my head about whether I should do this or do that; they were all put to rest. I imagined my empty evenings filled with caring for my baby. That was all I needed.
I don't understand why God would allow that to be taken from me. How could something that brought me such peace be taken from me? And now, now I just don't have it in me to try to figure the future out any more. What's the point? What the hell is the point? What's the point of dreaming and hoping for something so good and wonderful? It can all be ripped away so quickly - and so painfully.
There are so many dreams and hopes for what this time in our life would have been like. The other night as I lay in bed awake I realized that Harper would have been almost six months old right now. And I'm going to be doing that for the rest of my life. She would have been . . . And it hurts just as much to imagine her as a six month old little girl as it did to imagine her as a new born. And I'm stuck here, the daughter-less mother.
I feel my mood lifting some today. It's only been a couple of days since my dose of anti-depressants was doubled, but already I'm noticing a difference. I don't think about death every time I experience pain. It's such a relief I could cry.
I had a dream the other night that Martha Stewart was over for dinner and I had a baby boy who was fussy. He was probably 8 or 9 months old. He was arching his back and looking me straight in the eye like we were going to get into a power struggle. And you know what? I didn't care. I wanted to parent him well, but I was just so happy to have him I didn't care that he was fussing. I didn't care that Martha was there either.
There is no sound that can fill a home the way the sound of a child can. Just a thought I've been having.
I've been kind of angry at God tonight. I feel like he's talking to all these people around me, and not to me. I have been telling him how much I need comforting - a deep down kind of comforting, but I'm not feeling it. My heart is aching. Why isn't he comforting me? Am I looking for something too grand? Do I want a miracle that isn't going to happen? I don't know. I'm really quite frustrated.
Oh, there it is. There's the pain and the anger. I can feel it now. The tears are hot behind my eyes. I thought when I was pregnant that I had finally figured out what I was supposed to do. I felt this peace that I had never felt before - never. All the time before I was pregnant I spent thinking about what I should be doing with my life. I was just trying to occupy my empty time. Then when I got pregnant, I had this sense of purpose. It was amazing. I was totally amazed by the process. And all the thoughts that had swirled around in my head about whether I should do this or do that; they were all put to rest. I imagined my empty evenings filled with caring for my baby. That was all I needed.
I don't understand why God would allow that to be taken from me. How could something that brought me such peace be taken from me? And now, now I just don't have it in me to try to figure the future out any more. What's the point? What the hell is the point? What's the point of dreaming and hoping for something so good and wonderful? It can all be ripped away so quickly - and so painfully.
There are so many dreams and hopes for what this time in our life would have been like. The other night as I lay in bed awake I realized that Harper would have been almost six months old right now. And I'm going to be doing that for the rest of my life. She would have been . . . And it hurts just as much to imagine her as a six month old little girl as it did to imagine her as a new born. And I'm stuck here, the daughter-less mother.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Lazy day
February 7, 2009
I'm surrounded by the minty scent of IcyHot. I put it on my ribs because they have been aching so much from all the straining I've been doing. I don't know that it's really helping, but it was worth a shot. I think my fever is gone. That's good news.
Today was a lazy day. I stayed in my pajamas all day. I took a nap this afternoon. I'm trying not to panic about the blood and the pain when I go to the bathroom. I'm trying not to panic about how long I might have to wait to find out what's going on. I can do this. I can do this.
I'm hoping for another lazy day tomorrow.
I'm surrounded by the minty scent of IcyHot. I put it on my ribs because they have been aching so much from all the straining I've been doing. I don't know that it's really helping, but it was worth a shot. I think my fever is gone. That's good news.
Today was a lazy day. I stayed in my pajamas all day. I took a nap this afternoon. I'm trying not to panic about the blood and the pain when I go to the bathroom. I'm trying not to panic about how long I might have to wait to find out what's going on. I can do this. I can do this.
I'm hoping for another lazy day tomorrow.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Dark places
February 6, 2009
I'm at a loss about what to say these days. I feel like everything I'm going to say I've said before. I'm sick of "hearing" myself write.
My appointments on Wednesday went okay. Dr. T wasn't able to do a full dilation on me because it was just too painful. I tried. She said that with the initial exam though she could tell the hole was still open, so that was good. She doesn't understand why I'm in so much pain right now. She suspects I have some nerve damage in my pouch, but she won't know until the end of the month when she has the new equipment to do a study on me. She said that could cause some serious pain. In the meantime she gave me a new medication to try. We'll see.
I had an appointment with Dr. N, the psychiatrist. That went really well. He was very knowledgeable, understanding, funny, and he challenged me a little. He made some changes to my medications and said that he could see me for therapy too if I wanted, which I did. So I'll be going to see him on the 13th for our first therapy session. I'm looking forward to that.
Last night I felt really sick. I was running a fever of 101 and was just in so much pain. I took some of my new meds to help me sleep and slept solidly for about 6 hours. That was good. This morning I went for my weekly dilation with Dr. T at the hospital. She said that the hole to my pouch was still dilated and that she thinks next week might be the last time we need to do the dilation. That's excellent news really. I wish I could be more excited about it, but my pain continues and I'm actually pretty discouraged that the dilations didn't "cure" the pain. If it is nerve damage, she said surgery would probably be needed to fix the problem. She said my pouch was inflamed some and that might explain my fever, so she gave me some antibiotics.
I slept the afternoon away. Barbara woke me to say goodbye when her cab arrived. She was so good to me. I don't know how I would have survived this week without her. Jeremy got home just a couple of hours after I woke up. So here we are, sitting on the couch watching TV. I'm still running a fever and my pain level is pretty high. I'm trying to tell myself that my pain will get better and not to feel hopeless, but it is so hard. It feels like it will never end.
It's hard to keep my thoughts from going to some pretty dark places. I'll keep trying though. It's all I can do really.
I'm at a loss about what to say these days. I feel like everything I'm going to say I've said before. I'm sick of "hearing" myself write.
My appointments on Wednesday went okay. Dr. T wasn't able to do a full dilation on me because it was just too painful. I tried. She said that with the initial exam though she could tell the hole was still open, so that was good. She doesn't understand why I'm in so much pain right now. She suspects I have some nerve damage in my pouch, but she won't know until the end of the month when she has the new equipment to do a study on me. She said that could cause some serious pain. In the meantime she gave me a new medication to try. We'll see.
I had an appointment with Dr. N, the psychiatrist. That went really well. He was very knowledgeable, understanding, funny, and he challenged me a little. He made some changes to my medications and said that he could see me for therapy too if I wanted, which I did. So I'll be going to see him on the 13th for our first therapy session. I'm looking forward to that.
Last night I felt really sick. I was running a fever of 101 and was just in so much pain. I took some of my new meds to help me sleep and slept solidly for about 6 hours. That was good. This morning I went for my weekly dilation with Dr. T at the hospital. She said that the hole to my pouch was still dilated and that she thinks next week might be the last time we need to do the dilation. That's excellent news really. I wish I could be more excited about it, but my pain continues and I'm actually pretty discouraged that the dilations didn't "cure" the pain. If it is nerve damage, she said surgery would probably be needed to fix the problem. She said my pouch was inflamed some and that might explain my fever, so she gave me some antibiotics.
I slept the afternoon away. Barbara woke me to say goodbye when her cab arrived. She was so good to me. I don't know how I would have survived this week without her. Jeremy got home just a couple of hours after I woke up. So here we are, sitting on the couch watching TV. I'm still running a fever and my pain level is pretty high. I'm trying to tell myself that my pain will get better and not to feel hopeless, but it is so hard. It feels like it will never end.
It's hard to keep my thoughts from going to some pretty dark places. I'll keep trying though. It's all I can do really.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Just another day
February 3, 2009
Today was another tough day. I was in a lot of pain and felt sick almost all day long and ended up going home early from work. I tried to tough it out as long as possible, but by afternoon I just couldn't hang in there any longer. I went home and took some pain meds and a short nap and that seemed to help.
Tomorrow is going to be a challenging day - two appointments that I know I need but won't be easy. Barbara is here keeping me company right now - for that I'm thankful. It gives me less time to be alone with my thoughts, thoughts that just seem to cause me problems these days.
Pray for a good night sleep tonight!
Today was another tough day. I was in a lot of pain and felt sick almost all day long and ended up going home early from work. I tried to tough it out as long as possible, but by afternoon I just couldn't hang in there any longer. I went home and took some pain meds and a short nap and that seemed to help.
Tomorrow is going to be a challenging day - two appointments that I know I need but won't be easy. Barbara is here keeping me company right now - for that I'm thankful. It gives me less time to be alone with my thoughts, thoughts that just seem to cause me problems these days.
Pray for a good night sleep tonight!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Restore my soul
February 2, 2009
Today was a very hard day. But there were people there for me. I'm amazed at the people that were there for me. My dad called me at lunch time and let me cry on the phone. My dear friend Sara K. from Minnesota called and said just the right things to me (she always does). While I was on the phone with my mom, Davey and Yumiko left a message for me saying they are there for me this week if I need anything. The world is full of good people.
I did two things today that I think will be helpful for me. One, I scheduled an appointment for Wednesday evening with a psychiatrist. Two, I scheduled an appointment with Dr. T to see if she can do an effective dilation on me at the clinic in addition to the one at the hospital so we can possibly do two dilations a week. That is also scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. We'll see how it goes without the big gun pain meds. I'm not too optimistic about it, but I need to give it a try. I wonder if the psychiatrist will think I have a drug problem if I come to my first appointment with him a little loopy from Percocet!
Tonight I talked to my mom while I was on the toilet. I just needed some toilet-support. I cried at how sick I felt when I finished and she listened. I told her I was worried the night was going to be a tough one for me. My body is so exhausted right now. She asked me what I remember of Psalms 23. When we were kids we used to memorize Bible verses. I recited what I recalled, but it wasn't the whole thing. So she read it to me and hearing the words read to me brought me peace.
Psalms 23: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou are with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies; thou annointest my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
And then after she read it to me I asked her if she remembered the song. I remember the song from my Vacation Bible School days. I started singing it and she started singing it. We kind of laughed and realized that the song is supposed to be sung as a round. We tried to find a comfortable key and then she started and I came in a little later. It was a sweet precious time. That too brought me peace.
God, if you're listening, please restore my soul. Please. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I don't know how much you're listening, but I haven't given up coming to you. Please.
Today was a very hard day. But there were people there for me. I'm amazed at the people that were there for me. My dad called me at lunch time and let me cry on the phone. My dear friend Sara K. from Minnesota called and said just the right things to me (she always does). While I was on the phone with my mom, Davey and Yumiko left a message for me saying they are there for me this week if I need anything. The world is full of good people.
I did two things today that I think will be helpful for me. One, I scheduled an appointment for Wednesday evening with a psychiatrist. Two, I scheduled an appointment with Dr. T to see if she can do an effective dilation on me at the clinic in addition to the one at the hospital so we can possibly do two dilations a week. That is also scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. We'll see how it goes without the big gun pain meds. I'm not too optimistic about it, but I need to give it a try. I wonder if the psychiatrist will think I have a drug problem if I come to my first appointment with him a little loopy from Percocet!
Tonight I talked to my mom while I was on the toilet. I just needed some toilet-support. I cried at how sick I felt when I finished and she listened. I told her I was worried the night was going to be a tough one for me. My body is so exhausted right now. She asked me what I remember of Psalms 23. When we were kids we used to memorize Bible verses. I recited what I recalled, but it wasn't the whole thing. So she read it to me and hearing the words read to me brought me peace.
Psalms 23: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou are with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies; thou annointest my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
And then after she read it to me I asked her if she remembered the song. I remember the song from my Vacation Bible School days. I started singing it and she started singing it. We kind of laughed and realized that the song is supposed to be sung as a round. We tried to find a comfortable key and then she started and I came in a little later. It was a sweet precious time. That too brought me peace.
God, if you're listening, please restore my soul. Please. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I don't know how much you're listening, but I haven't given up coming to you. Please.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Learning some lessons
February 1, 2009
Not a day goes by that I don't think to myself, "How much longer can I go on like this?" I'm terrified that these dilations aren't working and I'm going to end up needing another surgery. Terrified. The whole process is so taxing. I don't know how I'd be able to handle it.
Understand when you read this that this isn't what I'm thinking all day long. It's a thought I have, mostly when I'm on the toilet or shortly thereafter. Something else has been happening to me too though, almost every day. There are these people that have been reaching out to me; people from my past, people I've just met, people from the Internet. They are reaching out and offering support and encouragement and love. It blows me away.
I've wondered why I didn't know the world was full of such goodness before I was faced with all these trials. Isn't that funny? I think it was probably because I was wrapped up in my own little independent world. I didn't need people, so I thought. I mean, it wasn't a conscious thought I had, but looking back, it definitely was an attitude that I operated under. I think I was pretty protective of my emotional world. Part of it was because I had this belief that I had to have it all together. What a farce!
So the ordeals of this past year have forced me to reach out to people and ask for help. And when I have done so, people have responded. But more than that, I've been open with people about the pain and the loss and the love that I've been experiencing, and people have responded to that too. How could I not know that? How could I not know that when you open up and show yourself, people will respond in kind. There is so much more depth to be had in relationships. It's so easy when you're in pain to shut the world out. I struggle with doing that when I'm depressed, for sure. It's so easy to believe that others just couldn't understand. But that's just not true. And the only way you will ever know, the only way I have come to know, is by opening up and putting it out there that this is what I'm feeling. I guess I'm becoming more of a risk taker than I thought I was!
Not a day goes by that I don't think to myself, "How much longer can I go on like this?" I'm terrified that these dilations aren't working and I'm going to end up needing another surgery. Terrified. The whole process is so taxing. I don't know how I'd be able to handle it.
Understand when you read this that this isn't what I'm thinking all day long. It's a thought I have, mostly when I'm on the toilet or shortly thereafter. Something else has been happening to me too though, almost every day. There are these people that have been reaching out to me; people from my past, people I've just met, people from the Internet. They are reaching out and offering support and encouragement and love. It blows me away.
I've wondered why I didn't know the world was full of such goodness before I was faced with all these trials. Isn't that funny? I think it was probably because I was wrapped up in my own little independent world. I didn't need people, so I thought. I mean, it wasn't a conscious thought I had, but looking back, it definitely was an attitude that I operated under. I think I was pretty protective of my emotional world. Part of it was because I had this belief that I had to have it all together. What a farce!
So the ordeals of this past year have forced me to reach out to people and ask for help. And when I have done so, people have responded. But more than that, I've been open with people about the pain and the loss and the love that I've been experiencing, and people have responded to that too. How could I not know that? How could I not know that when you open up and show yourself, people will respond in kind. There is so much more depth to be had in relationships. It's so easy when you're in pain to shut the world out. I struggle with doing that when I'm depressed, for sure. It's so easy to believe that others just couldn't understand. But that's just not true. And the only way you will ever know, the only way I have come to know, is by opening up and putting it out there that this is what I'm feeling. I guess I'm becoming more of a risk taker than I thought I was!
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