The Devil You Know

I spent over $100 at the grocery store yesterday which was surprising since I'd gone in to purchase only food-I-think-I-could-eat-under-dire-circumstances which pretty much means potatoes in any form. I bought two bags of potato chips with ingredients I am not technically allergic to, as well as a bag of Yukon Golds that I'm throwing in the Crock Pot tomorrow to cook down for mashed potatoes. Also some garnet yams and Japanese sweet potatoes just because. I baked four of the largest Golds and put them in the fridge so I can make fried potatoes if I'm feeling particularly energetic. Pro tip for making fried potatoes? Bake them first! Thanks Grandma.

The surprise expenditure was due to the fact that they had Coconut Aminos on sale for a dollar off per bottle and since I use about a bottle of those every other week...Also, stocked up on almond butter because it's one of mckitterick's favorite foods and the man deserves to indulge himself while I'm binging on consoling myself with potato chips.

When I stopped by the library, I had the energy to get the one book I knew I wanted, but when I looked at the music section my heart and stamina failed. There was no way I was digging through those horribly disorganized and cram-packed racks that you have to take out a whole handful of sleeves to browse them. No, thank you. Maybe someday when I have an entire Saturday afternoon to spare? *sigh* Come on, library. Find a better way to organize your music collection. I wonder if/how I could browse the collection online.

The fact that today is my last day in the office for six weeks doesn't feel real. It's a good thing I spent the week busting my ass to get things done before my departure. My motivation for productivity at this point is low low low low low low low low.

Busy so busy and I have things I want to write, but I'm just so very busy. At work I'm doing everything I possibly can ahead of time to make things easier when I'm not in the office (although I know there's no amount of planning that is going to make this working from home thing easy) and at home I'm doing everything I possibly can ahead of time to make things more comfortable (although I know there's no amount of planning that is going to make this recovery thing comfortable).

But if nothing else, I wanted to tell people about the amazing Pusifer concert that mckitterick and I saw last night in KC. It was at the Midland which I've somehow missed experiencing until now (so beautiful and the sound quality was top-notch). If you're not familiar with the band, it's one of Maynard James Keenan's projects and (IMO) his best. I'd never seen them, and I'd read a little bit about how Puscifer's concerts are kinda surreal, but I didn't want to be spoiled for anything. I went in with no expectations or anticipations. It was amazing. I just...well. I've mentioned before how much I like music. It's been a while since I saw a concert that so moved me. Next time they tour (please let there be a next time and they play locally), I'm buying tickets as soon as possible so I can be closer and feel comfortable standing, like everyone on the floor seating. I think I'd have wept.

I don't subscribe to the idea of souls. They might exist outside of our physical bodies (anything's possible), but the notion doesn't jibe with my brain. They're a wonderful metaphor and a nice idea, but do I think I have a soul separate from my person that can exist without my body? Not...really. But if I did have a soul, mine would have been slightly outside my body for much of last night's show. The visuals (weird, creepy, silly) pulled on my eyes and the bass (intense, deep) pushed out my heart. I could feel these impossible things happening to my body. I opted to be Not An Asshole and didn't stand up when the people in front of us didn't but oh I was literally on the edge of my seat, pushing/pulling myself closer to the stage.

It was incredible.

mckitterick sent me this mashup:


Thanks to daasgrrl, I'm adding London Spy to my watchlist for my convalescence.


Today's Tumblr collection is Tuesday, November 17: Raccoons. Fact: The word "raccoons" is difficult to type, much less to type 30+ times. I kept putting "raccooons" as the tag.

Originally posted by daasgrrl at VID: You'll Be Back (Sherlock/Moriarty, PG-13)

Today's Tumblr is Tuesday, November 10: Jeeves & Wooster.

I called in sick with cramps yesterday. Spent pretty much the entire day in bed. I told mckitterick it was a practice run for surgery recovery. Also a nice confirmation that yeah I think I'm doing the right thing by getting this organ removed. I'm still not happy about it, but I feel better about the decision, anyway. Oh! I spoke with Dr. Khosh about the upcoming surgery and he was very supportive and said he felt this was probably the best decision, too. I was kind of surprised at that, not even a suggestion of trying a non-invasive solution to the fibroids. Good to have my health care practitioners support my decisions!

Gotta catch up on the stuff I didn't get done yesterday, so back to work.

I have pretty medium/average size boobs (albeit an unusual bra size according to most stores/manufacturers which is why bras in my size are always ridiculously priced) and my skin isn't terribly sensitive to pain, so I figured a mammogram wouldn't be a big deal. I was right. It was fine. I wouldn't want to do it every day, and I sincerely doubt I'll bother going back once a year, but really. It was fine.

However.

When the breast tech (I made that term up just now and I love it) handed me my stuff (paperwork, weird cape-thing for modesty), she included two little round stickers and said to put those on my nipples. I have to say I was pretty disappointed that nobody told me I got cute little nipple stickers for this. Mine were zebra-striped (zebra! striped!) and had the teensiest little metal balls in the center. I assume this is to show the location of the nipple on the scan? Whatever. They were adorable and I was tempted to take a photo of my boobs with their teensiest-pasties-ever.

However.

When it was over and I was getting dressed, I was hit with a much more serious disappointment because not only did nobody tell me about the existence of these things, nobody told me how much they hurt to peel off. I'm talking mother fucking ouch peeling those things hurt like duct tape. My nipples were still sore the next day.

WHAT THE FUCK, BREAST-HAVING PEOPLE. Why didn't anyone give me a heads-up about those?

Although maybe those stickers aren't common because the two people I mentioned them to yesterday had never used them. So maybe I was just lucky.

It's likely I wouldn't get along with this guy in person, but he's not entirely wrong about guns and how to approach/use them. I found this one especially amusing: Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets…You may get killed with your own gun, but he’ll have to beat you to death with it, cause it’ll be empty.


This cemetery yard is fantastic.

Errands, food prep, laundry, and seasonal wardrobe switcheroo happened on Saturday (locals are welcome for the couple days of beautiful weather since my summer clothes are packed away now--seriously, this happens every time), as well as the bachelorette party for my BFFs. I did it all on about 5 hours of sleep. Then Sunday (with four hours of sleep, even with the time-change extra hour) I attended the wedding. Ceremony only lasted about thirty minutes (yay!) but the socializing lasted six hours. It was great, don't get me wrong. I don't get to see these people very often. But wow am I tired. I got zero couch time over the weekend.

I nearly cried this morning (stinging eyes, hitch at back of throat) from how much I didn't want to come to work today. I'm so fucking tired and my spoon count is running perilously low.

Nearly halfway done with today, though. Nearly halfway.

Tomorrow I get my first mammogram. Good times.

Yesterday's responses to my call for hysterectomy stories was overwhelming (in a good way) and incredibly helpful. I was touched by the care and compassion of friends and complete strangers, who shared intimate details about their experiences. I fucking love the internet.

This morning I was lying in bed, checking in with my body. I do it every morning. It's my pre-flight check to make sure nothing is so wrong that I might not make it through the workday. I...have never typed that out before, and now that I've done the equivalent of saying it aloud, I realize how bizarre it is. Who does shit like that? Me, I guess. Anyway. I was checking in and made myself aware of the near-constant slight abdominal pressure I've known about for a long time (at least a year, perhaps more). I always thought it was gas or something not sitting right or maybe I just needed to pee. It felt like menstrual cramps, but surely I wouldn't have menstrual cramps if I wasn't at that part of my cycle, right? Lying there this morning, I realized/admitted to myself, that's probably the giant fibroid. Gross.

I don't often have regrets, but I am very much regretting not wearing tights under my skirt today. I am freezing. I've got a lot going on this weekend, but hauling out the winter wardrobe on Saturday is a must. I don't have a record of when I switched out wardrobes last year, but I think this might be a record for lateness thereof. Hurray for boots, sweaters, and tights! I am not a fan of cold weather, but I least I enjoy cold weather fashion.

Here's a job I would've been really good at, y'all. But that would also mean living in a big city, so...no. Ah well! Last night at Henna Time I sold hdsqrl and radiantmephit on Hamilton, and that was great. I also started following Lin-Manuel Miranda on Twitter because he is fucking hilarious and I'm starting to develop such a crush on him.



This has been in my head all week so I'm sharing it with you, too. God damn I love this song so much.

Not likely to be, anyway, so let's at least know that's off the table. The news is super shitty, though, and it's taken me over 24 hours to get to the point where I feel like I can put any of this into writing. Not only do I lack the language to communicate this (more on that later), but I know that the act of communication, makes the situation more real to me, thus putting me in the predicament of being even more inarticulate with my emotions.

Not only that, but the information from a live blood analysis I got on Friday keeps getting obscured and overwhelmed by the more immediate impact of Monday's discoveries at my consultation with the OBGYN surgeon about my fibroids.

This could be a very disjointed post.

Facts, as presented to me by the microbiologist who did my live blood analysis on Friday: I have Rouleaux, which is a blood condition where my red blood cells link themselves together (in my case, tightly stacked horizontally in long chains--like candy necklaces) and (in my case) form weblike structures. As you might imagine, this causes some basic problems. Like the inability of oxygen to easily travel around in the blood. Other issues showed up in the analysis, but the Rouleax is the big one, and is probably the first domino. Symtoms of Rouleaux are things like constant immune reactions, increased allergic responses, and fatigue. Causes of Rouleaux can be...tumors.

Which brings us to--

Facts, as presented to me by the OBGYN surgeon on Monday: The fibroid Dr. Harris found is much larger than I thought/understood. It's as big as my uterus and has basically taken over the entire back muscle of the organ. It is inoperable and cannot be removed. There is another, smaller fibroid and a polyp in my cervical canal. This might be operable, but the removal would be superfluous in light of the presence of the other, larger fibroid. I think we can all make the connection to that fibryod cyst (a type of tumor) to my painful and heavy periods. But can I make a connection between it and my autoimmune disease (and everything that has gone along with that)? Maybe. I'm using this as my own way to understand, so just come along for the ride with me, here, and tell me if you think I'm off-base.

My current thoughts on how I got here:

Hormonal birth control fucked me up. Studies are showing that HBC takes a serious toll on one's body, especially the adrenals. I believe it. I never had serious health problems or even environmental allergies until I was in my late to mid-20s. I mean, I was kind of frail, but I was active and high energy, if not athletic. I realize allergic developments in one's twenties is a fairly common thing, but you can't deny there's allergies and then there's my allergies. Anyway. I know the pill made me literally and immediately sick because the last several months I took them (nearly two years) were a constant search for a brand/dosage that didn't give me morning sickness. I'd been on them for years (nearly a dozen) before I finally gave up and started taking DepoProvera shots. All it takes is looking at a calendar to point to the fact that my thyroid issues started up right around the same time I started getting Depo shots. I point to HBC (the pills and the shots) as the thing that jump-started my autoimmune problems (allergies) and thyroid/endocrine issues (glandular stresses). I believe hormonal birth control is largely responsible, if not the number one direct cause, of my health issues today. Guess what the OBGYN surgeon told me was the only other option for dealing with fibroids like this, apart from a hysterectomy? Hormonal birth control.

I am faced with the choice of removing an organ that I very much do not want to remove, or put into my body (for basically the rest of my life, or until I remove the organ) what probably caused 90% of my daily health problems today.

I am taking both these items of information (yeah, both—see, you forgot about the Rouleaux business too, there, didn’t ya?) to Drs. Khosh and Jonah, but I need to make my decision within three weeks or I’m screwed insurance-wise. Anyway, I can’t imagine any herbal treatment that actually shrink and remove cysts. If I’m wrong on that, pipe up in the comments, but I want solid research and reviewed reports, not hippie websites.

Whew. I feel better. Not good. I don’t feel like I just got punched in the stomach, at least. It makes it more real, but it also makes it a little easier.

Yesterday, when I was dealing with the emotional fallout from the surgeon’s report (as well as the physical discomfort from having a fucking uterine biopsy), I had no idea how I was going to write about this. I even groaned to mckitterick, I have to write about this. He told me I’d feel better afterward, and I have to admit I scoffed. A little. But now that I’ve written it out, now that I have my language for it, it is easier to process. He was right. I can’t emotionally process something without appropriate language. I guess it comes as no surprise that communicating basic facts about my situation is the best way for me to emotionally process it (Vulcan 4lyfe).

So here we are at a new stage of Finnegan Begin Again. This time, it's a physical crisis coupled with emotional growth! My favorite.