Windy and cold

Today was windy and cold. My brain tried to remember the list of things I needed to do and then I got overwhelmed and didn't do any of them. I got a bit done when C got home, but I really just found myself looking forward to N's nap time and picturing myself wrapped in a blanket watching a show I've been waiting to watch.
 I got crampy on the drive home tonight and felt like my skin was crawling. I wanted to throw my heavy pocketbook and the tote bag that I held in my lap out the window. I told C I was feeling crampy and that the cramps plus everything else in my brain was sending me over the edge. He said it was going to be OK. If I am or if I'm not. It will be ok.

8 days late.

Still shaking my head

Hopefulness. Why do you creep into my life, my daily thoughts, my prayers without any consideration for my mental state? You don't care that I'm afraid of the disappointment.  You don't care that I went into Target and agonized over pregnancy tests vs. tampons. That I considered skipping Zumba tonight just in case...

7 days late.

And why wouldn't it be late?

It doesn't go away.  I thought it would.  I thought after N was born, and I was lucky enough to be a mom that I was done getting my hopes up for a late period.  I'm not done getting my hopes up.  Standing in the kitchen today with C while N runs circles around us, I could only smirk, shake my head and say "some things never change."  Lots of things do change…just not this.

6 days late.  

To Stop Waiting

To stop saying, "when all my finances are in order, then I will start saving."
To stop thinking, "when all my old stuff is organized then I will hang the new pictures on the wall."
To just get up and go out and stop feeling unacceptable to go out because my hair is a mess and I'm wearing the same shirt I wore to bed.

To just dive in.  Headfirst.

To back off unnecessary spending, but still have hobbies that make me happy.
To take an hour and condense that box of high school and college memories, but only an hour, so I don't get lost in the memories and lose three hours.  And to be ok that I'm not finished.  That I can go back and do more and not finish again.  If you don't start, if you don't do something, then absolutely nothing will change.

I just painted my three kitchen chairs.  I still need to wax them, but the painting is done.  I can't tell you how long I've been staring at those chairs.  Willing myself the energy to finish.

Where was I losing the time?  What was sucking my energy?  TV.  Computer.  Some negative websites and bummer podcasts.

He asked me if something was bothering me.  I told him I thought I was just feeling my age.  But we talked and there is more to it.  There is always more to it.  He suggested I back off TV and the computer.  It is a good suggestion.  Although right now I am online typing this and watching a video.  But, writing makes me feel good and the show is one I've always loved.  I'll be done soon.  Feeling refreshed that I could get this out, could watch an episode of my favorite old show and got the painting done.  Accomplished something.  Taking note of what I accomplished and feeling good about the day.

Starting to blog about health

My infertility/parenting blog has slowed (not stopped), but slowed as my focus has shifted to figuring out how I got 50 pounds overweight and what I'm doing about it:

http://strengthinmovement.blogspot.com

Almost a month

Amazingly, it has been almost a month since I was rushed to the hospital.  A month since my gallbladder was removed.  And almost a month since the words "renal mass" sent me to a dark place in my mind to wait until further testing.  That dark place was frightening.  It was a place where I wondered who would speak at my funeral.  I wondered if I should start going through my old sentimental things so no one else would have the task after I was gone.  I almost threw up with the thought that I could potentially leave my husband without a wife and my son without a mother.  It was dark.  I was recovering from surgery, I was stuck in my house, still in pain, so very much stuck in my head with the saddest of thoughts, with the most worrisome of dreams.

Doctors saw the mass while dealing with my gallbladder.  It was a concern to them, but the testing had to wait until after I was out of the hospital.  That should have brought me comfort, the idea that the test can wait, but instead it fueled my worry and extended my stress.  It was a CT scan done on a Monday.  By Tuesday morning I had broken out in a full body itchy rash.  Thursday were the results.  I spent those days itchy and worried.  Spontaneously breaking into tears.  C was worried too, but it came out with him telling me not to cry in front of N.  My brother (who in 35 years we have never said shut up to each other or called each other names) told me to shut up and called me stupid.  It was out of FEAR.  He apologized.  He said it was because I was making him think about something he never wanted to think about.  I get that.  I didn't want to think about it either.  But it was all I could think about.  I made super awkward jokes and would say things like, "Look at this gorgeous day, I can't go yet."  I went from zero to a million in those few days and even when the news came back OK, it was hard to feel relief right away.

The news came back OK.  There is something there, but it isn't something that needs to be dealt with immediately.  It was just something they want to check again in 6 months.  My itchy rash subsided within a few days after the results.  Mom thinks it came on from stress.  I wouldn't be surprised.  There are still pains and pangs, but my thoughts are less dramatic and more secure, remembering that I had surgery a month ago.  One of my organs was removed.  There is an adjustment.  My energy still sucks.  My body reminds me that while the same food is going in, things are a bit different in there.  I'm getting there though.  One month makes a big difference.  I am slowing able to start working out again, back to lifting my 2 year old, and making better decisions about what I am eating.  My thoughts are less dramatic and more mundane.  Whats for dinner?  Back to the reality of a home desk stacked with papers.  Calls to the insurance company.  Its ok.  Mundane is nice.  But a shake up to the status quo is also not so bad.  Changing your thoughts, remembering what is really important.  Confirming that a snoring husband in a cozy bed is still a million times better than a lonely hospital room, a beeping IV machine and having to call for help to pee.

As an infertile, one month also has a different meaning.  Another cycle.  Another period that moves me closer to whatever our next step is.  There is a next step.  It is not soon.

2013 has been a year with plenty of opportunity to go with the flow.  Going with the flow is an art form.  I'm getting lots of practice.

Gallbladder. Gone.

It's been exactly one week since I got home from the hospital.  The weather is almost exactly the same.  A perfect blue sky and gorgeous breeze.  I sat in a rocking chair on the front porch and took the deep breaths the nurse told me to take to stimulate healing and drank my hospital sized water.  Today I sit at my computer.  Window open to let in that same perfect breeze and water now in my normal drinking glass.

A lot has changed in a week.  A LOT has changed in two weeks.

Last Wednesday, my day could not have been more normal, even boring to start.  I had an electrician over in the morning for a small job.  Ate a regular lunch with my son at the table before putting him down for a nap.  We played the typical game of "I'm not tired"  "Yes, you are" for 20 minutes before he finally fell asleep and once he was asleep I had a fleeting thought of I want to get started on the living room I've been wanting to paint.  I had even bought the paint the day before.

But, instead of painting I laid down.  I was uncomfortable, almost like I was getting my period, or even getting a bladder infection.  I felt yucky and tired.  And I napped.

I woke up when N woke up.  But, it wasn't good.  I was sweaty and in massive pain.  There was no position that was tolerable.  I could barely stand up straight.  I whispered to N that Mommy was sick, that we needed to call Dadddy.  That Daddy needed to be home immediately.  N is 2.  He couldn't help me, and thankfully played as normal.  I found my phone.  C was on his way.  I told him we needed to go to the ER.  He was still 20 minutes away.  20 minutes felt like an absolute eternity.  I managed to get N to come downstairs.  He played while I wrenched in pain and tried not to cry out.  I didn't want to scare him.  But, I was scared.

When C got home he packed up N and anything else we needed and then packed me up too.  I could barely walk to the car.  I sat crumpled in a ball in the seat, not talking, still trying not to cry out in pain.  When we got to the ER, I walked in the door and immediately said I am going to throw up.  They got me a wheelchair and a bucket.  I threw up in the bucket and will forever remember the  face of the 8 year old with his father watching me hurl.  N said, "Mama?"  C rubbed my head.  They got  me a bed right away.

Painkiller, shots, blood draws, scans to be determined it was my gall bladder and it needed to come out.

After 4 days in the hospital and one gallbladder removal I am home.  Back where I belong.

I'm debating whether to write more.  They saw a "bump" on my kidney while they were scanning.  I'm going back to the doctor for more scanning.  It could be nothing.  It could be something small or it could be a really big deal.  I'm trying to stay calm, but it is frighteningly easy for your mind to run away especially when recovery gives me a lot of time to think.  The doctor doesn't seem to be in a rush about it which makes me want to take that as a sign that it isn't a big deal.  I'm trying to go into next week with a positive attitude and not worry "until there is something to worry about."

For now I'm home.  Right where I belong.