"The power of the pen is unknown until you pick it up."

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Post Surgery

The illegal immigrant was successfully outed!  

Rotten squatter took the uterus with it. George was also "stuck" to a few things, so it took two and a half hours instead of the anticipated one hour to conduct the eviction.

I've been very sleepy and it's hard to talk, so I didn't make phone calls--and I'm falling asleep while I'm typing...  

I'll keep you informed about biopsy results and George's weight. Awesome and I were totally bummed that we forgot to ask.

Thanks for checking in on me! 

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

One Little Miracle At A Time

Hey, our prayers were answered yesterday! A surgical spot opened up for Tuesday the 16th. (Was scheduled for the 19th) You wouldn't think three days would make that much of a difference, but its HUGE when you want to evict an internal intruder.

When I told Awesome about the new surgery date, he picked me up off the ground and hugged me--while I was still on the phone with the nurse.  After I got off, my whole family did the Happy Dance.

Then I thought, "Wait a minute! I'm excited to get cut open??" Jeesh! That really doesn't sound fun, but I'm still clinging to the hope that its a rogue fibroid and it'll be sentenced to the trash bin with relative ease.

Yes, I'm still shamelessly soliciting prayers on my behalf! Thanks for them and all the well wishes!

Saturday, December 13, 2014

That's What Friends Are For!

Fellow writer, blogger, and awesome person, Sharee Wanner sent me an email with the best advice of the day. She said the following scripture helped her mom when she was fighting breast cancer:

1 Timothy 1:7 For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
Another scripture Sharee recommended was one that helps her when she has trials or is asked to do hard things: Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me."




Awesome, my teenage son, and I were sitting on my bed yesterday. We somehow got onto the topic of the high probability I would lose at least one ovary and the uterus because George is selfishly spreading like an amoeba. I said, “So when the doctor goes in to operate, the ovary and uterus are going to be saying, 'Take George! I was here first! Take him!'"

Awesome said, “Yeah, the ovary will be clinging to the small intestine. 'I’m too young to die!'"

Speaking on George’s behalf Handsome added, “'Put the scalpel down or the gall bladder gets it!'”

For some bizarre reason, we were all laughing hysterically…

Do you think laughter is the best medicine, or are we all certifiably crazy?

Friday, December 12, 2014

Visit To The Oncologist...


I went to see the oncologist today.

Along with a fear of it being cancer, I was concerned that I'd have to wait for weeks to get into surgery. Dr. Soussin (pronounced soy 'as in sauce' - son) walked into the room with an energetic bounce in his step and an engaging smile that acted like a soothing blast of reassurance. "I've looked at the scans," he said, "and I'm pretty sure it's not cancer."

I'll skip the doctor speak. In layman's terms, it seems most likely that George is a massive fibroid that got started in or on the uterus.

I thought, Yay! Wait, does that mean you're going to refer me to someone else and I have to start all over? That could mean weeks of waiting to get into see a doctor and then they'd need time to schedule the surgery...


The oncologist continued, "But ..." (It's never good when doctors use that word) "Because of the size, we can't rule it out. If its not cancerous and you want to try to have more children, we could ..."  He gave me options which would shrink the puppy-sized mass down a little...

  Not enough to be worth a try.

If they were able to shrink it, there was still a high probability that it would just come back. Ultimately, the doctor arrived at the last option which was a partial hysterectomy. I could tell it was the option he thought was best for me because he said he didn't think I'd ever be able to carry a baby. So basically, what's the point of keeping it if George trashed the place and the housing authority condemned it?

It's not like I was using the uterus anyway. Years ago, post pregnancy, I had a Deep Vein Thrombosis (That's a fancy name for a blood clot. The layman's term always grossed me out because it sounds like something you'd blow out your nose) At the time I was diagnosed the the DVT, the obgyn told me I was at a high risk of developing more and losing my life if I were to get pregnant again. He said, "Live to raise the kids you've got."

I never accepted it. I always wanted more. The Lord sided with the doctor and blood thinning meds cause birth defects, so there are multiple issues that supported giving up the innards George vandalized.

On a happy note, unlike the first doctor, Dr. Soussin doesn't think George did the amoeba thing to the ovaries. He said I should be able to keep them. :)  Hallelujah! I was really worried about becoming a raving beastie without hormones (There is no option of replacement therapy when you've got a risk of blood clots (cough) I mean Deep Vein Thrombosis.

Because I've always mourned the loss of the children I wasn't able to have, I never would've thought I'd be counting down the days for a partial hysterectomy. George's eviction should take place on December 19th.

Hmm, I wonder if I should have Awesome host a farewell party the day after I get out of the hospital. This is probably what it would look like...

What do you think? Would you party if you could?

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Fighting Back


I need to take a mental restraining order out on George. He’s driving me crazy—rotten stalker. 

Of course he drags me down Worst Case Scenario Road and beats me with possibilities. His idea of fun is an emotional roller coaster ride that bashes you at the bottom. After giving his negativism a lot of thought, I fought back with the Pepper Spray of Faith and a Courage Taser. If things get really ugly, I’m not afraid to die. I’m not saying there’s not A LOT of regrets that make me cry—which I won’t get into because I don’t want to be an icky gooey mess again, but no fear.

I’ve been a good person. I’ve carefully followed the Gospel of Jesus Christ and done my best to pattern my life after His. I know that He lives and that He answers prayers. I’ve seen it in miraculous ways numerous times. If you look for the Lord in your life, you will find Him. If you put him first, He will take care of you. I LOVE the good feelings I get from following His example. Being kind to others gives me a Happy Rush. I can forget my own problems when I’m helping someone else feel better. It’s a lot of fun to help others too!

See what banishing George’s negativism did for me? Yesterday I was curled up in my closet (with a nice comfy blanket) bawling my eyes out. If I can remember to stay focused on my faith and courage anyone can!

P.S. The closet was the only place to go where I was sure I wouldn’t draw a crowd. I even fooled my constant companion—a 90-pound German shepherd.

Sometimes you just need to be by yourself and have a good cry. Once you’re done, and you have a good nap, the world looks a whole lot better. 

What do you think? Does it a good cry work for you, or would you have invited the dog in to provide some comfort?