Confident Trust - Epic AND TMI

In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You, Lord, alone make me dwell in safety and confident trust.
Psalm 4:8

Confident trust. Seems to be a theme that many are struggling with these days. Waiting takes confident trust. Not the kind of waiting where you are whining and fussing and scrambling around working toward a solution without ever having consulted the One who can do all things and loves you so much that He sent His Son to die so that He could have a relationship with you. No. That is not confident trust.

Confident is defined as, marked by assurance, as of success. It comes from the Latin confidere which means, to rely on.

Yesterday I went to the doctor for two reasons. The main reason was to see my primary care manager in the gynecology department to request a referral to go see a urological gynecologist for my girl problem. Yes it is still a problem. Yes. After THREE years of doctors, tests, procedures and medications it is still a problem. The second, and ironically enough, lesser reason I was there was to have my mammogram results read by the doctor so that he could prescribe a course of action. You may remember that I had gotten a call from MY gynecologist that there was a mass detected on the mammogram and it required follow up. That was Wednesday. I had to wait a week and a day to see the doctor.

I was irritated at the inconvenience of having to go to yet another doctor so he could do yet another examination just so I could wait to be able to get an appointment to go see yet another doctor. And irritated at having to wait to get information about where the breast health journey is going to lead me. And by the way, "I am NOT sitting on that examining table with the stirrups. I am sitting in a chair. You want me in stirrups, you're going to have to work for it." Hm. That somehow doesn't sound too appropriate. I suppose it is good I didn't say it out loud.

The doctor came in holding only my urology records and my mammogram results. Did you ever watch that show Ally McBeal where they acted out whatever was in her imagination? Like, one time, her crush said something that hurt her heart and you see a red arrow going right to her chest and piercing it. She was fine of course, it was only her imagination. Well, I imagined whipping out one of those sticky rubber hands and smacking him upside his noggin with it. I said, "Those are only my urology records, there is more." And he said, "Oh, they only gave me these..." grr. "So, what are you here for today?"

Oh. it's going to go down like THAT is it? *slips on boxing gloves and oils up naked bulging muscles* So after feeding him some leather giving him the, "I want to go see another doctor and you need to tell me what is up with my cha cha's and stop making me wait some more" talk, we settled in and had a nice get to know me conversation. He asked me to tell him all the things I could remember about what has been done so far about my issue. Well let's see, there was those four weeks where I had a weekly tea party urethral massage with my gynecologist, or the time that big camera ignored the do not enter sign and showed me the inside of my bladder on tv, cystoscopy, or the myriad of medications which have helped me to now move into the category of obese according to your lovely, uplifting little chart there.

Truth be told folks, I liked this doctor. You could see his wheels turning in earnest interest and medical consternation. I just wish that he had done the reading first. So he says, "Okay - I know of another nerve drug that we could try and I will also put in the referral request for you to go see the Urogyno." "It's possible that we may not be able to fix this." "What you mean like EVER?" "Yes." "Like, NEVER?" "Yes." "Like, for the rest of my life, for always and ever, I may never have intercourse without pain??" "Yes."
"That is not acceptable."
And now, on to the mammogram. "Ah yes, I see that they detected something on your mammogram that they would like followed up on. I'll go ahead and put in the order for the ultrasound. You'll just need to go down there and schedule it." That's all you get Mrs. MoCracka S4J.

Oh no you DI'INT! "Hey, Dr. S ~ is this something that should be marked urgent, or right away or something that I need to be FREAKING OUT about?" "Nah, not urgent." Well thank you man of many words. "Now, are you up-to-date on your pap?" *rubber thing snaps and this time takes out an ear* "I HAVE NO CERVIX YOU JACKAL Um, yes. My last approved visit with my gynecologist was used for a well-woman exam. Which is in those records that you don't have in front of you." "And how long ago was that?" "Just a couple of weeks ago." "Okay, we'll skip the exam today then." *Raises fist in the air and brings elbow back in excited cheer* (yes I really did) "THANK YOU!"

"Oh, and come back and see me in two or three months so we can see how the medication worked and also I am pretty curious about what Urogyno comes up with." "Well, it is certainly my pleasure to satisfy your curiosity."

Okay - explanation of the medication which I started taking yesterday. The theory is that there is a nerve that is misfiring, causing pain when it is disturbed(and by the way this is my lame'mans explanation - please do not publish this on medrx.com [cause I know you wanted to]). So we are going to try to convince it that it can give up the game with the use of Gabapentin(neurontin). I am starting at the lowest dosage which is one 300mg capsule three times each day. I will try that dosage for one week. If it doesn't work I will take two 300mg capsules three times each day for one week. If that doesn't work I will take three 300mg capsules three times each day for one week. If THAT doesn't work we know it's not GOING to work and I will be done taking it. If it does work, I could be taking it the rest of my life. AND also, nurturing my marriage the rest of my life. so there.
I know the medication is affecting me already (no we didn't try it out you dirty-minded GGG)because about 2 hours or so after I take it, I get WHACK. Like super funny. So funny in fact that I crack myself up. Regularly.

What else? Hmmm What WAS the other thing? I'm trying to think but can't remember so much, and I see that this post is really long already. I guess I will have to wait for another post to write about it.

Me And My Girl Problems Hysterversary Edition

*TMI WARNING - this post will contain personal details that you may not want to know*

Today marks the third anniversary of my admission to Christus Schumpert Cancer Treatment Center to have a giant mass, along with my uterus and cervix, removed. At this point, we didn't know if the mass was benign or malignant. It occurred to me that you 3 people who are following this story have no idea whether I lived or died. I suppose today is an appropriate day to tell you what happened. They took me to a surgery holding area and gave me some sort of sedative (as I remember it). After I was unconscious they did the surgery prep. How cool is that right? I was blissfully unaware that people were shaving my nether-regions, installing a catheter into my bladder, rubbing me with cold brown anti-septic, etc. etc.
The next thing I remember, I was in a room in a lot of pain and rapidly pushing a button with my thumb. Someone was speaking to me, and I think she was saying, "It won't work now - you've had all you can have for the hour..." I was in the recovery room, waking up from anaesthesia. Trying to get pain relief. Because apparently when you have your abdomen cut open from your belly button to your C-Section scar, it is rather painful. At some point, I guess they decided I was lucid enough to be taken to my room which I would be staying in for the next 5 days. My husband and Cousin Amber were there waiting for me. I tend to think of this as the room of doom. Somewhere in the walls of my room, there was an entire construction crew; hammering, sawing, drilling and stomping. I kid you not, the noise was so loud that we couldn't even carry on a conversation. As a team we talked to several nurses and officials of the hospital in order to get me moved. I mean, honestly - WHO in their right minds puts a person recovering from major surgery into a room where they can't possibly rest?? Some hours later they moved me to a much quieter area of the hospital. The next morning when my doctor came in to check on me, he entered the room yelling, "Damn lady! I have been looking all over for you!" I said, "Did you just CURSE?" He went on to explain to me that yes he did curse, he went to my room to find me and I wasn't there. Apparently he had an adventure finding me as well. So anyway, I finally got the chance to ask him about my tumor. "Did you get pictures of it??" He said, "No, the camera in the surgery suite wasn't working." Can you hear my audible sigh of disappointment? Doesn't EVERYONE want to see their tumor?? I asked him to tell me about it then and he likened it to a small watermelon. I said, "No WONDER I was having trouble peeing! That thing was smashing everything!" He also told me that it would be sent off for biopsy, but he was certain that it was benign. If you can call smashing my bladder flat 'benign'. He said he would be back to check on me later.
I was really having issues with my catheter. It hurt all.the.time. They made a couple of different attempts to adjust it to no avail, so I finally just begged them to take it out and let me work out getting to the bathroom(although it was early for this step yet). And what I mean by me working out getting to the bathroom, I really mean my husband helping me in every step - because he is that kind of guy. I want to tell you all the funny and gross and embarrassing things that happened in those days that I spent in the hospital - but I have completely lost interest in telling this story. And I think I know why....
Flash forward to my current girl problems. We have been unable to determine why I am having pain at the tip of my urethra. I think, that possibly - when they installed the catheter, they may have injured my urethra. There would have been no way for me to tell them that they were hurting me because I was unaware at the time, and I spent the next months on pretty intense pain medication. Then my husband left for a year tour in Korea.
So much time had passed, I completely forgot about the whole thing. Until, that is, I started recounting the story of my Total Abdominal Hysterectomy.(which by the way ~ does not include the ovaries. Why they call it 'total' I have no idea. The little trouble-makers are still there maintaining hormonal chaos in my system)
From the time that my husband returned from Korea to the time that he deployed to Iraq (1 year) I went to doctor after doctor and test after test trying to determine what was going on and how to fix it. I am now pretty convinced that my urethra was injured by that catheter ~ and had I not been recounting the hysterectomy story - I don't know if I ever would have made the connection. We had been at a stand-still until now, my doctor and I having agreed that we would wait and see if the condition would heal on its own while my husband was gone. It has not. I go see my doctor in July and I get to tell her what I have remembered. I also get to have a well-woman exam. I may have said this before, but I will say it again, "That is just wrong! I have no uterus and no cervix. Leave me alone for pete's sake!" Apparently no womb is not a get-out-of-pap-free card. Wrong. Just wrong.

*The tumor was benign*

Me And My Girl Problems Part Quatre

28 June 2005 ~~ After six months of speculating, testing and waiting, the big day arrived.


I must say the day of surgery will go down in my memory file as the best of the whole ordeal. Let's begin with what's important. Hospital Fashion. We bought several cute bandanas and Amber cut them in half and tied them up for me so I had several clean choices for cute headgear. Honestly - who's going to want to brush my mane while I'm infirm? With the kids off with Grandma and Grandpa, we showed up at the hospital early in the morning and were taken to a prep room where I had to remove all my clothing and undergarments and don the lovely hospital gowns. They also gave me some rather attractive circulation stockings which my husband kindly helped me get into. The world starts getting a little fuzzy right about here for me, so now would be a good time to insert help. My husband (after reading my blog) wrote to me about his thoughts on the day and Cousin Amber filled in some more...

*Waving again* Hi, It’s me again, HisGirl. I’ve been asked to chime in on part 4 of this story… I’ll be the girl in purple!*

Honey,

I thought it would be good for me to write about the tumor from my side of the story.

This is called “My wife’s uterus.”

I don’t remember too much actually, only that there were some issues that led you to believe there was a giant tumor. I vaguely remember telling you that I doubted that, and that you were only being a drama queen. So there’s that. You went to the doctor on post, and they figured out it was too much for them to handle, which was very surprising to me. Over the years I’ve learned that poor medical treatment was the norm for the military.
Anyways, I did not go to the local doctor with you. It was work or something, I don’t know. At this point I was starting to feel like it was something more serious, but I still wasn’t convinced there was a giant tumor. When that doctor said we needed to go to the big city CANCER doctor, I started to be a bit concerned. I hadn’t been this concerned about your uterus since the time I saw the doctor holding it, OUT of you, in his hands, immediately after he took the twins out. That messed me up too, by the way. It is not cool to see your wife’s internal organs OUT of her and in someone’s hands.
So this time I did go to the big city doctor with you. Wow, considering we’re both from So Cal did you ever think we’d ever refer to somewhere as the “big city?” Anyways, we had a great time at that hospital, getting free milkshakes, talking to the CANCER doctor and so on, in the CANCER section. Yes, that freaked me out. So after hearing how you would be opened up, have stuff removed and such, I was really starting to feel like my life with you wasn’t going to be as long as I had thought.
I’ll just skip all the administrative hoo-ha about who talked to whom in order to get your surgery approved. I just mainly remember that as being another series of dramatic events, with lots of red tape involved.
So fast-forward to me driving to Houston to pick up Cousin A. Let me just say that there was a time in my life when I despised this woman.

*Despised? Really? I think that you meant to say that you had not yet discovered what a great choice of wife your cousin had landed. That’s all ;)*

That story could take up a whole page so I won’t even go into it. But now, everything is wonderful, and I love this woman like my sister.

*I love you too, man.*

So we met up at the airport and drove home to you.

*Thank you for not mentioning that I chattered incessantly the entire drive home, but you did leave out the exciting news that I sat next to pro football player Mark Roman on the plane. I guess you might have forgotten that part, but I’m sure he’ll never forget the girl who asked him, oh, so you play football, for like, money?*

Okay, now to surgery day. I am severely messed up.

*Hey man, you were doing great. We were all scared, but you were brave for your wife and I was so impressed with you*

Cousin A prayed with us, then they whisked you away. I’m pacing the halls. Cousin A and I ate some swill at the hospital cafeteria, we feel sick.

*Noticing that you left out that I totally whooped you at cards. I believe you may have been a bit distracted, what, with worrying about your wife and all, but I totally Shanghaied your bootay!*

Then we find out you’re done and are in post-op. Shortly after that they bring you back to your room. At this point I am so thankful that you lived. It didn’t matter so much what state you were in when you came back, what mattered was that you were going to live and I wasn’t going to be alone. *

I was especially touched by your devotion to S4J. I love that you love her with such a deep, true, abiding love. I love knowing that you care about my dearest friend with the kind of love that Christ has for us. Watching your relief when we knew she was going to be okay blessed me in a way that I just can’t put to words. *

And that is it. From there was the hospital stay, and the healing, and the hopes that your dumb uterus wouldn’t cause me anymore grief.
I am thankful to God that I am even able to write this, and especially thankful that you are alive to read it. I am also thankful to Cousin A for coming to help us through this adventure, and to her family for letting her make the trip.

*Me too, Cousin C… me too*

Hey, S4J… do you want to talk about the post op stuff next? I’m game if you are J

Me And My Girl Problems Part Troix

Once again - TMI warning -

*Waves* Hi all! It’s Amber from His Girl’s Blog! S4J asked me to chime in on this story… you’ll see my additions in pink… this should be fun!!!
It has been bothering me the last several days why I am having such a hard time remembering the details of the time around my surgery, and I think I figured out at least part of it today....I WAS UNCONSCIOUS for a good deal of it. The time that I wasn't unconscious I was heavily medicated. Of COURSE I'm not going to remember it all. I didn't EXPERIENCE it all. Of course, those of us who were not drugged (That’d be Mr.S4J and myself) won’t soon forget. It was QUITE a time, that’s for sure.
Now back to the story...At the moment that the doctor's office said they did not have the approval yet and the Doctor really wants to wait so as not to cause you financial harm, I think there was an audible crack. I hung up the phone. Hung my head. And sobbed. Amber was immediately at my side. Saying words of comfort and strength; God's timing is perfect. We don't want to step outside of His will and go too soon. Don’t I sound like a saint here? That’s not how I remember it at all. I remember thinking… I don’t know what to say! I don’t know what to do! Father! Help me! And if anything was said after that, it was not me but Christ in me. I think at that moment, my husband was equally as glad as I was that she was there. I don't think the poor man knew what to do with me and I KNOW I didn't know what to do with me. She prayed over me and things were quickly back under control. If that was the only moment that she could have been there for - it would have been enough. THIS however, was just the beginning of the fun. My husband was a rock. He drove way far to get her from the airport and take her back, he worked so hard to take care of the children and take care of me and he was so gracious to also allow me to have fun times with my Chica. I haven't really heard this from his perspective, but I think she helped keep him afloat too. It’s true, Mr. S4J was a wonderful comfort to me, and he behaved very bravely even though he was scared to death. Amber thinks I am gross (her word)True.. I laugh at the vile (her word) I have a slightly twisted sense of humor, and generally, she would prefer life to be more...er...delicate. Just slightly, sweetie… and you know I love you for your macabre, dark, disturbing funny bone. However, she indulged me in all things grossly funny and even took some pictures for me. We decided that we were going to approach this with humor. Or, maybe it wasn't a conscious decision, maybe it was just what we did. We like themes. We work well with themes. They give direction to our creative energies. Our Theme for Hysterectomy 2005? Proverbs 17:22, "A merry heart does good like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." We decided that we would make name-tags for all the people that cared for me. We got little wooden hearts, painted them with a bandaid and the Proverbs reference, hot-glued a pin to the back and whenever someone new came in who was responsible for caring for me, they got a name-tag. Custom printed by none other than the queen of fonts - HisGirl. We shopped for things that would help my scrapbooking of the whole event and found a whole page of pregnancy stickers that could be interchanged with the alien pod condition I was in.

I guess this is where I am picking up the story. After all the fun and business of getting ready for the big surgery day, we had to face a certain reality. S4J was truly going to actually have to go through with the surgery. Though that was a sobering realization, Judi was brave and funny and inspiring as usual.

At some point, we got the go-ahead from the insurance for the surgery, and packed up the vehicle to head out to the hospital. Before the procedure, we had some serious tasks to undertake. In order to clean out her system, S4J had a prescription for something called Go-Lytley. which is the most ironic thing because, as the lady at the counter of the pharmacy so delicately pointed out… “Oh you’ll be going alright, but there won’t be nothin’ lyte about it!” The poor people in the pharmacy just didn’t know what to make of our hysterical laughter… but their dirty looks did nothing to calm us down. Neither did the pharmacist’s confidentiality vow to S4J- “we promise not to tell anyone you’ll be going lytley tonight!”

The next part of the story is graphic, personal, and gross. Just up S4J’s alley- Ball’s in your court, my friend! *bows* I’m out for now!

Ahhh Go-Lytely.... This is a lie. A complete and total lie. For this particular abdominal surgery, my doctor required me to clear my bowels of anything toxic that could poison me should something accidentally get nicked during surgery. This product comes in a convenient gallon jug. All you do is fill it with water. to the top. all the way. to the top of the gallon. Shake well and get to drinkin'. I had to begin drinking it at a certain time in the evening and had to drink it all within 2 hours. The goal is to have completely clear movements. HEY - I warned you this would be gross! Hubby prepared each 'cocktail' for me and patiently told me to drink up. Amber's job was to capture a picture as I came out of the bathroom for that moment when I yelled, "CLEAR!!"

People... I have to tell you that there are a few situations that stand out as the absolute worst parts of this whole ordeal, and the Go-Lytely is one of those. For me it became like drinking weak lemonade tainted with charcoal. A whole gallon of it. It made me feel really ill with nausea, shivers, and of course - diarrhea. Having my cheering section there helped get me through it and I was finally able to declare "CLEAR!!"

I have been ill since Wednesday, *with a gripping fever hot enough to make me feel sorry for myself - 99.9* and I am now worn out. I will post this installment, and pick up again the morning of the surgery.

Me And My Girl Problems Part Deux

Where was I? Oh. Yes - *taps microphone* *clears throat*



Thank you all for coming tonight - I want you to know that some of the things you may hear and see (as I am feeling inclined to post pictures) this evening may be way more than you would ever want to know about me and so now would be the time to get up out of your seat and seek your refund at customer service.



All righty then? Where was I? Let me check my notes.....Ah yes, my gynecological oncologist shutting down any hopes of a lovely tummy or a natural hormone-free existence. Some people are so selfish. I would like to apologize for leaving you all hanging during the intermission. It didn't occur to me until people started protesting that I had done such a thing.

We will do the surgery sometime in June. It will take some amount of hours to do the surgery as it is very delicate, I have to be extremely careful, and this thing is MAD INVASIVE (okay...maybe he didn't say MAD), when we get it out we will send it to pathology to see if it is benign or malignant. You will need to be in the hospital for 5 days and will require 8 weeks off of work. Eh hem... can I sing? 8 weeks off of work. Once again, notice my priorities here...do I ask who is going to take care of my family? No. Do I ask him if he is sure that I could die from this surgery? No. I ask him, can I sing? Yep. Special.

And then I say - so, 8 weeks off of work. Does that also mean that other activities have to wait 8 weeks as well? Yes. I will clear you for other activities at your checkup. Super! Can you take pictures of the thing? Yes. There is a camera in the surgical suite and I will take pictures of it. *why is he tilting his head that way? do people not ask this? why is my husband looking green?*

I'm sure I asked him a thousand more questions but I can't remember them at this moment. We tentatively scheduled the surgery for June 23rd, 2005. HisGirl and I discuss when would be the best time for her to come because we have to wait for Tricare approval before we can even go in for the pre-op stuff and it is possible that the approval may not come in in time for that date. Och. Where is my journal???

*I need to point out here that my Mom asked me if I wanted her to come, but she and my Dad were scheduled to come out at Thanksgiving ~ which was going to be after hubby left for Korea for a year ~ so I said, I would rather have them for Thanksgiving. *

Um, okay - we decide that the bulk of her time should be spent being here for the surgery and after. I remember asking the Chaplain who was in charge of the Praise Team that I served with at the time if he would please pray for us, most specifically for my husband because I was worried about his well-being should he lose me. And that he pray for God's timing and that I would be able to accept it however it went down. Little did I know how spot on the prayer request would be. Cousin Amber left her family behind and came to us. When she got on the plane, my approval had not yet come through. Here's the thing about me, when I know what the problem is, what has to be done to fix it, and when...I can totally deal. Jack up one of those features and I have been known to crack. The afternoon before I was scheduled to go up to Shreveport with my husband and my BFF (aka HisGirl, aka CousinAmber) to begin the overnight pre-op process, I called the doctor's office to confirm that they had received the approval and we were good to go. No. We have not received it.

*I need to point out here, that we are now in the 6th month of this process and countless people have gotten involved on my behalf to include very high ranking Air Force people in my husband's chain of command. They have confirmed that this doctor is the BEST doctor for this job and he is hard to get into and have done whatever was in their power to help expedite the process*
Och. I have to go make dinner now. Looks like there will be a part three.

[I have asked HisGirl to help me finish telling this story because she's so good at remembering stuff and because I am nowhere near as good at remembering timelines as Jenster. (or maybe she keeps a journal)]

Me And My Girl Problems

**TMI WARNING**

This post will contain personal information that you may find is way more than you ever wanted to know about me. You may want to turn away now and wait to come back for another day.

I went to the Casting Crowns concert last night, and of course, I have a lot to say about it - but it seems this morning the thing at the forefront of my mind is my gynecologist.

I have my own gynecologist. Some of you women may not understand why this is special, however, if you are or have been ever - a military spouse - you know that any time you see the same doctor more than once it is a shock and a surprise. This can be especially hard for me as I loathe people touching me and the more 'personal' it gets, the worse it is. Magnify that with it being a different pair of hands every time, and you have the makings of a girl who would just about rather die of a horrible disease than go and let someone figure out what it is and find a cure for it. Toward the end of 2004, I noticed that I was getting....well....fatter. It had nothing to do with a possible pregnancy because I had my tubes tied the day I had the twins removed from my womb. (I will post about that experience sometime too) I kept saying (and no one believed me) I bet I am one of those women who has a giant tumor but you just think you're getting fat. In early 2005 I started noticing some symptoms that weren't necessarily painful - just wrong. I couldn't pee right, and other activities were being impeded. Thing is - it was nearly time for my annual trip with the Chicas and so there was no way I was going to be starting the whole going to the doctor thing until I had had my trip. You've GOT to have your priorities straight for heaven's sake. That was the year that we went to the Women Of Faith conference at the CenturyTel Center in Bossier City, Louisiana (which may be why this is all coming to mind now - cause I was just there last night for the Casting Crowns concert). After I returned from my trip, the doctor visits began. I started at my MTF (Military Treatment Facility) where I saw a doctor who did a pelvic exam and recommended a vaginal ultra sound. Oh joy. After this test, I was sent for another - mri's, ct scans, blood tests; At some point I got referred to a Gynecologist in town. I love her. Is it wrong to say that about your gynecologist? Anyway, that was in April or May of 2005. She did a pelvic exam - of course. She found a giant mass. She said currently my uterus was the size of a 5 month pregnancy. "I'll be honest here," she says, "I want you to be prepared for cancer. The thing that alarms me is its size and the rate at which it has grown. I am going to refer you up to Shreveport to a gynecological oncologist. You are probably looking at a hysterectomy and it needs to be done soon." Do you know what I heard? 2 things: 1. "Someone else is going to be in your business." 2. "You were right all along. FACE!" Do I care about cancer? No. Do I care about 'losing my womanhood' (oh please). No. I just care that I was right and that someone else has to be in my business. Yes folks, I am special. The tagline of my life will probably be something like be odd, be extreme; or don't bother. So, went up to my gyno-oncologist and the first visit to his office, my husband and I were sitting in the waiting room and this sweet lady came into the office bearing a tray of ICE CREAM. FOR FREE. FOR ME. How can ANYthing be wrong with the world when they bring you ice cream right to your seat? In the waiting room. Fully clothed. Having not even been touched yet. My guy was a matter of fact, no time for pleasantries - although somehow, not UNpleasant. We discussed hysterectomy, I'll have to go in abdominally due to the size of this thing. I said - no drama man, there is a place right down there where they took the babies out. You can use that spot - and tummy tuck me while you're at it. He says no. The size of the thing and its placement and what it is doing to the rest of you is rather tricky. I am going to have to make an incision from your belly button down to that c-section scar and try to do my work that way. It is rather delicate work and I need to be able to move around and take great care with this thing or that thing so as not to kill you off. Me = so...you won't do a tummy tuck? He says no. Pft. What are you taking out? We'll take your uterus and your cervix and leave your ovaries. At this point - I have done some research about hysterectomies, the different types of them and what the possible repercussions are of all. I say - how about you take the ovaries too? He says no. You have at least 20 good years left on those puppies so we'll leave them in. (He said that! I am not paraphrasing!) They're just a bunch of trouble anyway. My pms is way out of control and it seems like it could benefit me to have control of that hormone thing through medication. He says no. I am going to stop for now and watch a movie with my chillins....suddenly I'm rather tired.

He Aint Hunchback, He's My Brother...

Okay. He's not my brother but today he at least looks like a distant cousin. Just call me Quasimona. My neck and jawline have been invaded by acne alien implants the plague. I've gained so much weight since my Hysterectomy that I look as though I am pregnant; and I could say, "I think I am one of those women who just thinks they are getting fat but it turns out they have a giant tumor," except I already got to use that card in 2005 - hence; Hysterectomy. Okay - I'm not a hunchback, so let's call it hunchfront. Then there is my walk limp swagger; a direct result of spraining my ankle. Because I have been babying my left foot, my right hip has become very sore. You can imagine what that looks like in strut form. I have a grotesque growth ganglion cyst on the top of my wrist which is a direct result of shelling pecans by hand. Moving on to my hair. I live in the South. Humidity. Badly neglected haircut hair in need of a trim. Need I say more? I even wear slip on clogs which have long outlived their pretty days. Plus the last two days I have been feeling raunchy so my skin is a little green and clammy. It's all leaving me crying out for "Thankshoowaywe"