Pain is in the eye of the receiver.

12/4-5/14

The day my doctor diagnosed George as an unwelcome squatter, she called Huntsman Cancer Institute. My doctor’s office was told I might be able to get in to see an oncologist in about two weeks. When Huntsman’s coordinator called me to set up an appointment, I had been told there weren’t any cancer characteristics, so I told the coordinator that I didn’t want to take a slot from someone who needed it more. On the way to Utah to see a general surgeon, I picked up the CT report and read “the mass, uterus, and one ovary are indistinguishable from one another.”

Yikes! That sounded pretty suspicious to me. I was right. That’s why the surgeon refused to even try. One might grumble about the false-hope, however, when Awesome called the Huntsman Cancer Institute on my behalf and spoke to the same coordinator, she said, “I just had a cancellation on Wednesday the 10^th and they might be able to do surgery on Friday the 12^th.” 

So, I’m not shy about asking for prayers that I’ll be able to do that. In other news, since I’m an overall medical nightmare, I’ll have to transition over from Coumadin (a blood thinner) to Lovenox, (another blood thinner). The latter is a painful injection that feels like a bee sting. 

Thankfully you don't get them in the backside, but what could be just as bad?

Twice a day in the belly. There’s just something not right about getting stabbed in the belly. What about the upper arm? I mean you can at least retain some dignity if you get it there…

How many would opt to get it in the arm vs the belly?

I don't even want to know who would opt for the hinny...

Zombie-face

12/5/14

Yay! Six hours of sleep. Wish it were longer, but at least things are making sense now. After taking Ambien (never had it before) I was awake for about half an hour and was still in a mindless zombie state. Not tired, just lacking neurons that fired at the same time. I told Awesome that I felt more relaxed, but was “Still here.” I went to bed hoping for the best and closed my eyes. After a while I told him, “I’m still awake, but I see fairies—like they’re in a dream.”

He said, “Yeah, that sounds like Ambien.” If he said anything else, I don’t remember it.

I went online to see how sleep deprivation affects people. This is what I found:

"In Sleepless in America, National Transportation Safety Board member Mark Rosalind puts it in stark terms: "Every aspect of who you are as a human, every capability is degraded, impaired, when you lose sleep. What does that mean? Your decision-making, reaction time, situational awareness, memory, communication, and those things go down by 20% to 50%"

I think I was down to 85-90%

I think I was down to 85-90% in those areas.

Read more:  http://forumblog.org/2014/12/10-ways-sleep-deprivation-affects-you/#ixzz3L7STwlPz 

This morning I slept until 5:00 AM so now, its decision time:

-Do I stay at Mom’s house where I can lose my emotional cookies and get a free pass for being hysterical?

-Do I go home to be with my kids and try not to lose my mental hardware in front of them? No sense giving them sleepless nights—then we’d all be sleep-deprived zombies.

 

I mean someone’s got to be able to cook a frozen pizza.

What would you do? 

The Toilet Bowl Of Life

12/4/14

My husband (Captain Awesome or Awesome) and I got to read the CT report. A large mass according to radiologists is: 11.5 X 10.2 X 7.9. For people like me who relate to inches that’s: 4 ½ inches X 4 inches X 3 inches. According to Captain Awesome its “The size of a small puppy.” He offered to name it George.

I was really lucky and got in to see a general surgeon the day after my life got sucked into the proverbial toilet.

 Ah, but being in life’s crapper didn’t end there. Oh no, gotta plunge some more. Since George took over the living space space currently owned and operated by the ovary and uterus the surgery wouldn't be a simple procedure. (Yes, the rotten squatter does have that cancerous characteristic.) The doctor said if it were cancerous, it was beyond his skills—he’d just have to stitch me up and send me somewhere else. He referred me to an obgyn oncologist.

I spent the rest of the day bawling my face off.

If you are ever an emotional, icky, gooey mess, I recommend using Puffs Plus.

I cried so much I think I washed some brain cells out. Seriously, I couldn’t think straight enough to use the phone. I had to stare at it for a few seconds and think, “What was I doing? Oh, yeah, I needed to call so-n-so.” And then I’d stare at it for another second. “And I’ll find the number … where? Oh, yeah, the address book.” So I click the address book and start the whole process over again. “What am I supposed to be doing? Oh, I’ve got a clue. The address book is open, I’m supposed to call someone…”

After getting some sleep, I’m happy to report those brain cells are not M.I.A. they were merely lost in the fog of sleep deprivation. Apparently, in order to function, I need more than 5 hours of sleep in a 60-hour time frame...