Yesterday, I had a few minutes to chat with John. It's probably one of my favorite things to do--talk to John--because he's been my constant sounding board over the past 31 years of marriage. And something I've learned about myself of late is that I need a sounding board. Plus, talking to people keeps my emotions above board--I tend to focus on the fun and goodness in my life when talking to others. I was trying to explain to him how poorly I was feeling emotionally, and how I haven't been able to pull myself out of the hole this past week. (A shout out to myself and to what being an abused child has taught me--I am a survivor and never wallow in the pool of self-pity for very long.) He then pointed out that this hasn't exactly been the easiest week for me, and he then praised me for the champion I have been. With that in mind, I thought that maybe I should write it all down. I like looking back on "strength memories" when I'm not feeling so strong in the moment.
I think the week actually is more of a ten-day stretch. John was on call last weekend which isn't usually any kind of problem for me, but John had a really traumatic event happen while being on call here in Michigan right before he left for PA. He called me with the details, and it was pretty graphic. Too, I think I've become very dependent on my friends here in Michigan, and elsewhere. I have a pretty great network of sounding boards set up. Natalie Hill walks with me in the mall for over an hour every M/W/F, and I go walking weekly with Rebecca Shurtleff if the weather clears (looking at you knee that is still healing from slipping on the ice). Meg calls weekly as well, and Nance has been really good about calling lately if only to talk about The Bachelor drama ;-). Well, I haven't wanted to walk with Rebecca because the sidewalks have been so slippery (and my knee is still healing, and she won't go walking indoors because of COVID fears). Natalie has been gone for two weeks. Meg did most of the talking during our last conversation....and John has been gone a LOT.
So walking into this week with that going on, it wasn't the best place.
Two weeks ago, I had my annual eye exam, always a necessary thing for a new contact lens prescription. I've been telling myself to find a new eye doctor, because while I really like the doctors and the techs, the office staff members are insanely rude! No joke, I've gotten into a yelling match with one of them. I digress. In a turn of good luck, one of my eyes (my dominant left eye) has improved a tiny bit which means my horribly strong contact lenses don't need to be so strong which means I can read close up better with them in. The day after my exam however, I was seeing bright flashes of light in my right eye, and my vision was cloudy. Figuring it was just some goo, or possibly pink eye, I treated it myself over the weekend with sulfacetamide solution and waited like I do with most of my health problems. If I've learned nothing else always having a doctor in the family, a lot of times things go away on their own after a while. However, by Monday, the "pink eye" hadn't resolved, I only had maybe 50% of my vision in my right eye, and so I made an appointment to be seen.
I knew I was in trouble when the tech asked me if I'd seen flashes of light. Yes, bright arc-shaped streaks at the top and bottom of my vision, and intermittent stars for two days. With that answer, she dilated my eyes, and the optometrist came in. Only people who have had eye exams will appreciate what I could see because we've all had the experience before--when she shined the bright light in my eyes and used a magnifying lens to look in, I could see the reflection of the blood vessels in my eye....along with a very large, web-like looking spot. She started to explain a "Weis ring" as I vocalized what I was seeing. There is a layer of mucous that is attached to our retina. With myopic eyes like mine, and with the elongation of the eyeball that comes with myopia, the mucous layer collapses a bit (like our bodies as we age, she said) and sometimes some of it detaches. It's not a problem if it completely detaches, or if it detaches at the bottom of our retina. The problem lies when the mucous only partially detaches at the top of the retina...which is called a "Weis ring", and which is what I have. A large piece of this mucous has detached and is hanging from the retina (detachment causes the light streaks), blocking a large chunk of my vision in that eye. Well, I figured there must be something to do about it, because there's no way people actually live with this condition. Like drops to break it up. Yes, she told me there are lasers to burn it out, and ophthalmologists can actually go in and remove the pieces, but it's all very risky to what is otherwise a very healthy eye.
I sat there in disbelief. You mean, once again I'm going to have some very weird health ailment that is going to affect the quality of my life but that nobody can see or understand, so I'll need to function at 100% with it? I didn't say that out loud, but it was on the tip of my tongue. I asked her how long before it would detach, and she said, "I could tell you a month, and it would be ten years, or I could tell you ten years, and it could be a month." She had me set up an appointment for three months so she could check the status of it.
I went home and googled the darn thing. I figured maybe I have a conservative optometrist who didn't align with other doctors, but nope, everything I read says the same thing she did--at the minimum, wait six months. Surgery is only validated if the person needs the vision to work a job, or if the impaired vision causes depression or suicidal thoughts. Well....
So that was a serious downer. Even as I type this blog post, I can't see much out of my right eye. And because I can't see well, my brain keeps thinking it can blink away the problem, so by the end of each evening, my right eye is absolutely exhausted from both attempting to focus and see, and from blinking all day long.
And it just got better as I walked into the kitchen. Hannah had gone all out, decorating everything with pink, purple and yellow balloons and unicorns! It was just darling. And oh so happy. She had the morning off, so we went out for a short walk, and then came back and made blueberry pancakes (just how I like them--more blueberries with a bit of pancake) and thick-sliced bacon and sausage links. AND ORANGE JUICE! It's seriously been way too long since I've had any of those delicious things. And there were cupcakes from Cupcake Station on the table along with mini-piñatas full of Heath bars! And Lofthouse cookies. I mean granted, our Swig cookies taste better, but I'll never turn down a Lofthouse! It was just such a happy room and happy morning!
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| This. This is probably my favorite breakfast. Or this with Mark's blini. |
And most of the kids called that day to wish me a happy birthday. And I received some really lovely texts throughout the day along with flowers from an old friend in PA, Patrese Huff, and popcorn from Meg! I was talking a birthday nap when John walked in with the popcorn--I seriously didn't even get out of bed, but just lay there and dove in!
And always a highlight of any birthday? Blog posts from the kids AND a "treasure" video from Baby. I mean, I've only watched it 20 times...and the bloopers even more ;-)
Really, what a wonderful birthday!
I'm glad I had the distraction of my birthday, because the next morning I had my six-month mammogram scheduled. I told myself that maybe I wouldn't need an ultrasound as well, but I knew it was coming too. I drove myself there that morning, just depressed as heck, but trying to focus on the FACT that I need to keep myself healthy instead of focusing on the FEELING that comes with mammograms and my ties to being a sexual abuse survivor. I had brought three People magazines that I figured I could hold and read during my hour-long ultrasound and not feel too violated, but the clinic was actually running HOURS behind so while none of the other women had anything to read while waiting, I got through those magazines pretty darn well and kinda of forgot some of my stress. I mean, I checked my pulse, and it was in the 70s which is pretty good for any kind of doctor's appointment for me. After the ultrasound, the doctor came in and told me basically the same thing every doctor keeps telling me. There's a suspicious mass that doesn't look malignant but that doesn't look normal either. Props to this white male doctor who said "I could keep having you come back, but I think you're probably going to stop coming back if I ask you to do that. So, how about we do a breast biopsy and find out once-and-for all what's going on?"
Thank you. Thank you aggressive white male doctor. You are exactly the droid I've been looking for.
I was told that the scheduler would call me later, and I left. She did call later, and low and behold, she had an appointment for the next morning at 8 a.m., or one in the middle of March. I didn't even hesitate and took the one in less than 24 hours.
John was on call that night, so I didn't even talk to him. In fact, I didn't talk to anyone. As much as I tried to focus on the FACT that I was finally going to get an answer about this mass, my FEELINGS took over because I didn't talk to Hannah at all that night. I couldn't eat either, and boy do I wish I felt that kind of stress more often because it would be GREAT for my diet.
The next morning, I got up before dawn, I packed Hannah's lunch, and drove myself to my appointment. I love having appointments first thing in the morning because it means there's no waiting. And sure enough, I was taken right back. The usual "take off everything above your waist and have a seat" doesn't seem so shocking anymore, and at least I wasn't going in this time wondering if anything had changed. I had this little tiny ultrasound tech with a thick Arabic accent, but like the doctor from the day before, she was all business and knew just what she was doing. Lay on the table, take your robe off, let me put this towel on your belly to soak up all the ultrasound gel afterwards. She had to mark where to hold the ultrasound scanner because they would use it when performing the biopsy. And then the doctor came in. A different one from the day before, and I wondered if she was a resident (to which I would've said "no") but no other doctor came in with her, so I figured she was full-fledged. She told me there would be a sharp prick followed by intense pressure with the Lidocaine, but I tell you this: THERE IS SOMETHING TO BE SAID FOR HAVING BEEN INJECTED NON-STOP FOR THE PAST TEN YEARS. Yep, all those allergy injections and biologic injections and nose scopes have prepared me well. I seriously kept waiting for what she described....but there was nothing. She did tell me to close my eyes because the needles look like relics from a high grossing horror flick, and they are literally working right above my face. I then heard a machine turn on (like when the dentist turns on the polishing machine), she pulled a trigger like a gun, there was 3-4 seconds of suction. Repeat three times. She told me I would have the results in four days.
Ten minutes or less for that whole thing. The ultrasound tech practically wiped my boob off my chest in getting the gel off, and almost performed CPR on my breast which was non-stop bleeding thanks to my daily dose of 1300mg of aspirin. She told me that I was "lucky" because my doctor is the chairman of the department and knows what she is doing. I was sent back to mammography to ensure that the titanium "marker" was sitting pretty in the biopsy location and to make sure I wasn't bleeding internally. My tech bandaged my entire boob with gauze and stuffed a deli-sandwich-sized ice pack in my bra. I stopped at Chick-fil-A for some french fries and a Diet Dr. Pepper, and drove myself home.
I seriously thought I was the queen of pain control until the Lidocaine wore off. Yeah, I've never been so happy to wear an ice pack on my chest. I had plans to go walking, but I was given specific instructions not to do any activity that requires repetitive arm movement....and I can't imagine the freak I would be, walking for miles with arms that don't move. So I canceled with Rebecca and stayed home.
Meanwhile, John showed up on Friday afternoon, post call, and sold Coco. Like, it wasn't even hard. First come, first sold. He walked in with $9,300 in cash, threw it in my lap, and told me to count it before the people drove away with the car. He didn't even vacuum the car, and they bought it! He had already withdrawn $2,000 in cash in anticipation for me to take to the dealer as part of the down payment, so now we have a cool $11,300 in cash sitting here at home. John put it in a drawer just in case we get robbed.
And then I have my monthly appointment for my Nucala injection tomorrow. Unfortunately, for the past two months, five days before my injection I start getting cold/flu-like symptoms. So it's been a lot to handle. The stress of it all, plus the pain, plus not feeling at the top of my game, plus not being able to see. John has been a huge support, telling me how impressed he is with my strength to just get it all done. He sees women going through the same things, and he says not many handle it with the laissez-faire I am. But again, it's a skill I've developed--keeping things looking strong on the outside while on the inside I'm seriously falling apart.
So I'm trying to process all of this in a positive way. Focus on my strength. Focus on the fun I've had this week. FOCUS ON MY NEW CAR! It really isn't all that bad, but wow, what a week ;-)
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