Oct. 27th, 2015

clevermanka: default (gas mask)
GPOY:


[livejournal.com profile] spacefem put up a good post about how to speak to an audience that can, I think, also apply to the written word.

An angel of the dueSouth fandom uploaded a crap ton of screen caps that I'll be making good use of in my various fanart pieces.

Today's Tumblr collection is Tuesday, October 27: Gas Masks. That wraps up the Vaguely Creepy October collections.
clevermanka: default (going well)
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 [livejournal.com profile] 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.

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