Day 7 Post-Op

Alrighty then...  Where to start?

Surgery day was a long one!  After an initial call to arrive at the hospital at 11:15, they called later and asked if 8:45 would work.  Heck yeah!  The earlier the better.  It meant leaving the house super early because of traffic headed downtown, but that's not at all a complaint!  I got changed into the hospital gown (the paper pre-op one -- it does have cute little paw prints on it, though), my Pastor and a church friend who had come to the last "attempt" arrived and we sat.  And sat.  And sat.  I think they finally took me back to the pre-op area around 1 pm.  Certainly none of us expected that.  I was there for a bit as the struggled to find a vein.  Again, they found one good enough to put me under and poked, prodded, stuck and tortured my poor body before even beginning the surgery.  One interesting note: I had anesthesiologists on either side of me looking for veins.
One of them finally went and got a vein finder (image courtesy of http://www.qtechnologiesgroup.co.uk/local-community-fundraise-for-new-vein-finder-accuvein/) although I have no idea of the brand.  I was too busy watching this thing and sort of fascinated by it.  I've always had difficult veins.  Pretty cool, right?

Perhaps I should pick one of these up (for upteen dollars) and carry it with me!  Yes, so while the vein finder was keeping my attention to my right, the woman on the left found a vein good enough to get me under.  I'll tell you, when I woke up I found all sorts of bandages from failed attempts.  Hey, at least I was asleep, right?

The one thing  One of the things I wasn't expecting was having a jugular central line.  The doc wanted to be on the safe side and said it's the easiest way to get meds to elevate blood pressure, should that happen again.  Sadly, they kept it in the entire time and it was a bit annoying, but I survived.

Remembering that I am.... well.... me, things didn't go 100% as planned and the surgeon found adhesions from my gall bladder removal which he had to address.  Once that was out of the way, he proceeded forward.

Something else I wasn't expecting was the level of pain and the amount of nausea.  Sure I knew there would be a ton, especially the first day, but when, by day 3, I was still having a hard time getting down the mandatory 4 oz of water hourly, I was taken aback.  Heck, once I had 5 oz and was sure I was going to lose it.  Yep, that's how small my stomach is - well, at least when it's all swollen and irritated from surgery.  While the surgery went (mostly) according to plan, I was given the option to stay at the hospital until Friday, while most leave on Thursday.  I was up and lapping the unit and was keeping up with my fluids so was ok'd to leave on Thursday.  I decided that I'll heal better with more sleep - because honestly, does anyone actually sleep in the hospital?  They gave me a special pillow to push against my belly when I cough or laugh or do anything else that puts strain on my core muscles and it has helped a lot.  So I know I'm super out-of-shape, but I had NO idea how often I use my core muscles.  Just getting in and out of a chair or (forgive me) on and off the toilet was downright excruciating the 2nd day (after they removed the catheter).

Sleep.  It's not as easy as one would think.  I'm not allowed to twist, nor am I to bend from the waist or lift more than 15 lbs.  It's absolutely better than being jabbed and poked all night long.  However, even sleeping in my usual position has me twisting a bit, which I never realized.  I have taken pillows and propped my middle section up a bit so I'm more aligned.  Bert, unfortunately, likes to lay there; it's his nighttime spot.  I've had to "encourage" him to move more than once since Thursday.

I'm keeping a book with everything that comes in (and goes out) of my body, as well as pain levels and I am supposed to take my temperature twice daily.  That all goes in my book.  I'm also keeping a general mood record in there for my personal record-keeping.  With my follow-up on Thursday, I don't want my horrible memory to kick in and wind up saying "I don't know" to a bunch of really important questions.

I'm still doing the liquid diet and am to get 4-6 oz hourly of liquid.  I started off with ginger tea when I first got home (iced it like crazy) and am now doing Crystal Light, and even doing some broth and consumee.  Some nights what Keith makes for himself smells delicious, but always simultaneously makes me nauseas.  That Thursday (although it may have been Wednesday -- it's so easy to lose time in the hospital) the nurse told me she was all-but prohibited from giving me anti-nausea meds.  This will be my "new normal" for a bit and I have to get used to it.  So, I've toughened up and done what I can.  Thankfully, all has stayed down.

I think I've mentioned before that I fear my depression meds will decrease my metabolism, hence slow my weight loss.  The surgery will absolutely affect my meds and how they are absorbed.  I don't know if that means I will have to decrease (hopefully) or increase dosages.  I also had normal blood pressure in the hospital and since I was being monitored 24/7 and not getting any BP meds, the doc sent me home not taking it.  My PCP was ok with that.  My sugars were also normal given that I was on a constant "sugar saline" drip.

I have essentially stopped pain meds, although did take a dose of liquid (i.e., kids) Tylenol for a headache.  There's no need to take narcotics for that.  I'll speak with the LRNP at my post-op appointment this week about what vitamins and supplements I should take.  I actually like the calcium - it's a nice sweet treat twice a day.

Poly was in daycare today (and all week).  Since I'm not allowed to bend over at the waist, I can't put her leash on and since she won't come when she's called (and will bark like a maniac), she needs to be leashed.  Casey has been bummed today, but he's good for me.  I just wish I could sit in the sofa with him so I could snuggle.  I think a good snuggle would do me good.

This evening, hubby had to rush home from work to pick up Poly from work so he could help me get Bert in the carrier so we could take him to the vet.  Just to add to the stress going on right now, Bert has to stay at the vet overnight (Tori isn't happy and will start howling/yelling at us when she realizes he isn't there at bedtime).  He hasn't been using the litter box to urinate; rather, he thinks the sofa in the spare bedroom is a better place.  Thankfully we have vinyl car seat covers for the dogs, so we put them down so there is no damage to the sofa.  He actually only ruined a pillow.  There were sheets covering some clothes I had there and the clothes on top were still in their bags - they never fit... that is not YET!

So, I know I rambled quite a bit and this is rather garbled.  Please forgive me.  I've been working on this on and off all day in the midst of a bunch of other things.  Any repetition is unintentional, as is any disjointedness.

I hopped on the scale yesterday - hubby was home and I can't bend at the waist, so I can't even get to it.  I've lost.... <drum roll please>...... 2.2 pounds.  Honestly I'm not upset about this.  I'm still swollen inside and my body is holding on to the liquids I'm consuming.  If it doesn't pick up in a month, that'll be a different story!

I think that's enough storytelling and drama for today.  Hopefully I'll soon be snoring away....

The Long and Short of It

Fact: I did everything asked of me between 12/30 and 4/26, including blood work, a drug test, a nuclear stress test, an echocardiogram, a psych clearance and more.
Fact: I've had countless conversations with the nurses and dietitian at the surgeon's office.
Fact: I did 2 weeks pre-op of a liquid-only diet (which is nothing shy of torture).
Fact: My husband took a day off of work the day of my surgery.
Fact: My attempt at a vertical sleeve gastrectomy on 4/26 failed due to dangerously low blood pressure and oxygen levels.
Fact: I had multiple checks of my blood pressure at my PCP's office after finally discontinuing one of my blood pressure medications

Now that we have that out of the way...

I am back on the liquid diet, but true to his word, the surgeon is only making me endure one week of liquids (oh, and FYI: don't bother plain broth unless you have no interest in taste).  Thanks to a dear friend from church, I was introduced to a whole new world (is anyone else singing the song from Aladdin?) of sugar-free coffee syrups and no longer limited to the 3 options at Target.  Don't get me wrong, but they were getting a bit dull.  So I discovered that there is an entirely separate brand of these syrups and it's life-altering.  Ok, that may sound extreme to you, but please know that I am not exaggerating.  Keith would have long-since killed me had I been limited to chocolate and vanilla.  I can also enjoy sugar-free Jell-O!  Who would have thought that would warrant a WOO HOO?!?

So, what does all of this mean?  It means that I am scheduled for surgery this coming Tuesday, 5/24!  I admit that I'm having a hard time getting as excited this time around.  I fear something else will go wrong and I'll be destroyed again.  Let me make it clear that LOGICALLY and INTELLECTUALLY, I know that I did everything I was supposed to, to the letter.  However, there is part of me that feels like, had I done something different or better, I would have a month's jump on my recovery.  I should be beyond another 2 weeks of liquids AND the dreaded 2 weeks of pureed food.  I should be adding in "human" food now.  I should be trying foods, a little at a time to see what the sleeve will tolerate.  As one of my doctors would say "I'm should-ing all over this situation."

Now that it's almost the weekend and then there's only one day left of Keith being at work, we'll be headed to the hospital... well, now I'm starting to get a little cheery.  I pray that will turn into outright excitement by Tuesday morning.

For now, I'll drink (sugar-free, non-carbonated, and while I rarely do, non-alcoholic) and I'll enjoy some Jell-O.  I think I should get a royalty for that one, but for now, I'll just enjoy it.

I have been consistent (since my initial junk food pity party), I have been on that exercise bike.  I'm up to 15 minutes and doing about 5 miles +/- .  In fact, I bought a TV for Keith to mount on the wall in the room where the bike is.  Right now, I spend the first part of my ride ( varying) praying, but after that, there is little to do but watch the numbers: the seconds tick by, the distance trudges along, and the calories... well, that's just downright depressing!  I know the TV will help and with Amazon Prime, I'll have a choice of non-daytime television options.

For now, let the countdown continue.

Short and Sweet: my Failed Attempt at Weight Loss Surgery

Ok, ok, I can hear it now - it wasn't your fault, you aren't a failure, you didn't fail, the doctors did what was in your best interest.  Yes, logically I know all of this.  Emotionally, well that's a different story.

And it begins.  April 26th, the day ingrained in my whole world.  I had a countdown clock on my phone and could look at any point how many days I had left until my life would change.  Yes, I've made plenty of positive changes since my first visit with the surgeon on 12/30.  Between then and 4/24, I lost 40 lbs!  Granted, I was on the mandatory 2-week  liquid diet, which certainly helped matters, but still - 40 pounds!  I'll tell you right now that I've gained about 14 of those lbs back since the infamous failure day.

I arrive at the hospital and am almost giddy with excitement.  I may have been the only person in pre-op who was joking around and happy to be there.  I was PUMPED!  The doctor came in, telling me he had plenty of sleep the night before... whew!  My mind was at ease on that one (not that I even considered it a factor).  I was there for one reason: to start an irreversible journey.  Yes, before I move on, I know several people who have taken this journey and wound up gaining some or all of the weight back.  Here's my reality, though.  I HATE to vomit.  While I've always had weight issues, I have never even considered (even as a dancer) purging.  I know life after this surgery will be radically different.  I know my relationship to food will forever be altered and that there are foods I won't be able to eat ever again (without the whole puking thing).  It's sort of very hard to fathom right now, but the thought of never having gnocchi or my Mom's red velvet cake again may be a reality.

So, returning to the hospital.  The anesthesiologist comes in and puts in an IV.  She said that she didn't really like the vein (especially considering I'll be on IV fluids for a few days and it needs to be a strong vein), but it was good enough to put me under so she doesn't torture me while I was awake - I sincerely appreciated that, since I know I have horrible veins.  She gives me a muscle relaxant, to which I'm nearly immune, given that I used to be on something like 2 mg three times a day of Xanax.  I remember them wheeling me into the OR and putting the mask over my face.  After that, the next thing I know is that they're rushing me through the hallways telling people to get out of the way.  I wasn't really alert to know what, if anything, this meant (I mean, it could have been people on break having lunch or talking on the phone for all I knew).  I am slightly conscious and am asked if I'm in any pain, I'm shocked to be able to say "no."  I mean - major surgery brings with it some discomfort - at least - and I felt ok.

When I'm awake enough someone (either the anesthesiologist or the Fellow working under my surgeon) says "you don't know yet, do you?"  Ummm... know what?

Well, I woke up to needle sticks all over my body - from my foot to all over my hands and arms.  I don't think twice about it because the anesthesiologist said she would try to find a better vein.

So, here's what I didn't know.  They didn't do the surgery.  You read that right.  It turned out that when they put me under my blood pressure tanked.  I can't remember how low it went, but I think hubby said something about the bottom number being in the 60-range.  I was also told that when they took the oxygen away, my O2 level dropped to 80.  They tried for 40 minutes to increase my levels, but to no avail.

Everyone in the Operative Waiting Room was getting calls that their friend/family member was done with surgery, because they would get up to go to the PACU (post-operative care unit).  Then hubby saw my doc.  In person.  Coming to speak with him in the waiting room.  No other doctor did that.  First he said that I was fine and took him into what has come to be known as the "bad news" room.

I spent the day sobbing, and the rest of the week crying on and off when I'd think about it.  The Fellow came to see me often.  They ran a chest CT to make sure I didn't have a pulmonary embolism and a blood gas (I can't remember what that was for, but they had to get blood out of my artery -- in my wrist - OUCH!  That thing still stings if I hit it the wrong way).  They wanted to make sure they ruled out all life-threatening causes.  It seems that it was probably because I was on 2 bp meds and the ace inhibitor (not the beta-blocker) likely kept them from upping my bp.  Just FYI: I'm working with my GP and we think we have it figured out -- that I lost the weight to the point where it affected my need for as much medication to lower my bp.  One time when the Fellow came in, she asked if I was ok.  My typical answer for the day was "physically."  I said, through my tears, that I felt like I was over-reacting.  I have to say, she was wonderful!  She assured me that I was not...that I was truly expecting something life-changing to happen...something I'd prepared for since 12/30 by getting clearances and doing testing.  She thought my reaction was normal.  This conversation happened after I had the CT.  Prior to that one of the nurses in the PACU got an order from my doc to have lunch.  When the doc came in, he explained again what happened I sobbed to him that I could NOT do the 2-week liquid diet.  That just about killed me!  He said that he's done it and wouldn't make me do it again.  I would later find out that he'd only require 1 week.

People were coming and going and absolutely not eating in that unit, but as soon as I got back from the test, I ate (somewhat differently than had I had the surgery!).  Hubby had gone to get lunch during this time, so my conversation with the Fellow was private.  I was on that unit for the entire day!!!  The protocol/rule is that there can be 1-2 visitors at a time for up to 15 minutes.  Hubby was there nearly all day and we had a friend there who stayed for probably an hour into the PACU, but there were no seats and he was getting uncomfortable.  When my nurse came back from lunch (she rocked, by the way - hugely rocked!), she made the "isolation" room available to us.  Rather than being surrounded by curtains, it was a private area with 4 walls so I could be with hubby (and he could sit) and it could all be very private.  I'm sure anyone who was there heard the sobs, despite how discrete they were (and they really were).  I was told that the doc said he'd re-arrange things to get me in asap, which I thought was incredibly thoughtful and kind.  I found out that he did feel guilty that it didn't work out, especially since I was so excited in pre-op.

It was up in the air if I'd be admitted for the night or go home.  When they left the decision up to me I made it clear that I was in no shape to make decisions.  My depressive symptoms had reared their ugly heads and decisions weren't my "strong" suit.  The Fellow came back a bit later and said that the doc would release me if I wanted.  Somehow when she put it that way, I felt free to say that I just wanted to come home -- see my furbabies, sleep in my own bed, wake up in my house in the morning (and avoid hubby having to drive downtown again, paying another $25 to park).

I called the office the next day and the nurse said she'd have the scheduling people call me.  I heard back from them and the woman said she could schedule me sometime in June.  JUNE?  HUH?  I asked if that was the first and went into a bit of what had happened before; she said she'd talk with the surgeon.  They could fit me in on 5/24.  It is two weeks from tomorrow.  While I'm not required to do the 2 weeks of liquids, I'm going to try to do as much as I can.  I am mortified at the amount of weight I gained from my post-failure-op emotional eating.  I can't even write it down.  Hubby and I were talking on the drive home about what I wanted to eat.  Trust me, I had a good long list.  Spaghetti and hoagies from a certain place topped the list!

So, I had spaghetti for dinner tonight (with pesto - yummy!).  I've been trying to do 2 shakes a day.  Now that hubby is going to the gym at night (since there is no pressure to cook for the both of us), I'm more free to do a 3rd shake.  I'm supposed to have one within the first hour I'm awake and then every 3-4 hours later until I go to bed.  This is in addition to my 64 oz of water.  Well, with my previous overnight incontinence issues, I've tried to stick to stopping any food or drink in my body within 3 hrs prior to going to bed.  It leaves me lacking and will be especially difficult after surgery when I'm forced to take only sips of a beverage.

Ok, that was my not-so-short-and-sweet surgical failure.  I find myself less excited this time around.  I guess I'm just more aware that it's not guaranteed.

On the good side of things, we had some great coupons and rewards dollars so went shopping and I got some 1x and 2x clothes.  I held up one of the 1x shirts and thought, as I teared up, is it possible that I might fit into this?  It was surreal.

And I'll leave it at that.

Title-less

It's January 1st and here I sit at my computer.  I have no "resolutions."  I don't care.  Maybe because it's the fact that I'm stuck in an incredibly deep depression and my marriage is a mess.  Maybe it's because I'm super cynical find resolutions to be ridiculous.  I mean whatever we say today is usually broken by the end of the week or the month.  Very few of us actually do those things we resolve to do.  Whatever it is, I don't make them.

Ok, I got that out of the way.  I want to share that I've seen a bariatric surgeon.  He believes I'm a good candidate for a gastric sleeve.  Here is some information about the sleeve, but the site also includes oodles of information about bariatric surgery, including an hour-long webinar which offers a lot of information.  It's basically a doctor talking while you stare at Power Point slides.  It's not the most interesting of things, but it gets the job done, plus I had to watch it before my appointment.  It's not anything that's inserted, nor do they re-route any part of your digestive system.  They simply staple off part of your stomach.  This both makes your stomach smaller, but releases your body from experiencing the hormone that makes us feel hungry.

The doctor was wonderful.  He spent nearly an hour with me!  I recorded it so that I can refer back to it.  The city where the doctor will perform the surgery is in the city.  I saw him at a local office (30 mins, which is local for this area) and during the course of the appointment, told him that I don't drive in the city and he is totally willing to work with me.  There are a number of tests and evaluations necessary for the surgery to be performed.  One is a sleep study - already had one done and I use the C-Pap; one is a psych eval - since I've seen my psychologist for nearly 16 years, he will take a statement from him (who is the one who brought it up in the first place).  They also need an endoscopy.  I had one several months ago, but despite me telling them that I vomit with Propofol (they said it is the med of choice for those who do experience nausea and/or vomiting after a procedure), they gave it to me and the doctor couldn't finish the procedure because - guess what (?) - I vomited in the middle of it.  The bariatric doc wants to be in the room so he can watch the screen and know what to expect if there are anything which would interfere with the surgery, since my upper GI tract is involved.  Additionally I need a cardiac eval and he is comfortable with me seeing one locally.  I saw one many years ago and know that he's in the same practice as my husbands doc, but may wind up seeing whoever has an appointment available.  There is also a consult with a nurse practitioner and a nutritionist/dietitian, but he said those can be done over the phone.  I love this guy!  It doesn't hurt that he is the husband of one of the docs in the practice where my Mom (an RN) works.  It makes trusting him easier.

When we talked about the psych eval and my doc, he said that I understand the procedure and have done my research (I have a very full binder with tons of info, using page protectors, of course!).  He also said that I was asking all the right questions, so he feels comfortable with my psychologist covering that end of things.  Oh, and I have my entire medical history and a bunch of other things typed up since I'll never remember it all - it's too long and complicated, plus I'm on so many meds there's no way I'd know them all, especially if they want dosage and times!  He can see that I am "together" mentally, especially after seeing my OCD paperwork.

I asked how long it usually takes from the initial appointment.  I expected him to say 6+ months, especially after all of the testing.  Granted some of my testing is already "taken care of" but his answer was 6-8 WEEKS!  Ahhhhhhh!  That's soon.  While I'm excited, I'm also terrified.  This is an enormous lifestyle change and I guess it feels like that's a fast time to prepare mentally.  On the other hand, the sooner the better, right?

In other news, I became a consultant for Thirty-One.  My timing is pretty terrible as I'm dealing with the surgical stuff, but hopefully I can get something out of it, even if it's just a good group of Christian women supporting each other... and hopefully there are some close to me.

Well, "life" calls, so I have to say good-bye for now.  I'll try to write again sooner next time - I know I say that every time, but if I'm going to be down for a couple of weeks I expect to be online more.  So, happy new year!  I wish you all the best.

Rare

Just to keep you in the loop (if anyone is actually reading this...) when I saw my psychiatrist this morning he is taking me off of one of my meds because of a few side effects.  He, who is in his 50s and very up-to-date with studies and the like, looked them up on the computer having not heard of them.

Guess what?  They are RARE occurrences on that particular med.  You read it right -- RARE!  If you didn't catch that the first few times.... my side effects are/were RARE!

Yep, that sounds about right....  Welcome to my world.

Warning: Medical Ranting, Venting, and Complaining Ahead

Don't say I didn't warn you!

In the next 2 weeks I am scheduled for something nearly every day.  FYI: last week wasn't much better.  But I digress...

• We're talking aquatic therapy 3 times each week.
• There is therapy once a week.
• I saw my psychiatrist this morning (and traffic was a mess, so was taking some deep <fat girl> breaths as I made it to my appointment)
• I have the CT urogram this week - where they catheterize me and inject a dye in my bladder, then follow it with a CT (hence the name LOL)
• I had blood work to do before I could do the CT
• I will be seeing the physiatrist for a follow-up
• There is the oh-so-fun EMG at the neurologist's to evaluate my carpal tunnel
• Then I see the hand specialist the day after the EMG to see where things stand, since I had the cortisone shots in both hands during two separate visits.
• A week after the CT, I will see a urogynecologist who will do some sort of test requiring catheterization
• I am on a committee for a seminar at my church.  I have a meeting for that tomorrow night.  The event is on Saturday.

I can barely breathe just typing it.

Now, I did contact the physiatrist this afternoon to let her know that I fell on Friday.  In the basement.  Onto the concrete.  I'm in some serious pain.  My back seems worse.  My right knee took a hit.  My right ankle twisted when I landed.  I think some damage was done to my left ankle, on which I had surgery that had me laid up for the better part of 2 months.

Yeah, I'm cranky.

I'm a stress eater.

I'm trying to get back onto the Weight Watchers program.

This does not add up.  But.... I won't be home very often to be tempted.  Oy!

As a PS: I know that most people would be envious of my schedule.  I just have to respond by saying that I am bipolar currently in a depression so severe the docs have talked of me being hospitalized.  Oh, and my agoraphobia has surfaced a little bit, so going out, especially by myself, is pretty scary.  So, I'll go back to working full-time if I could get rid of some of this junk!!!  I'll leave it at that.

I want to add Bible study to this list.  It's something I look forward to each week, but it makes life (and dinner!) more insane.

Thank you if you've made it to the end of this post.

Medical Update (so that doesn't sound as good as "Weekend Update" on SNL, does it?)

Well, onward and forward....

I went to the doctor on Tuesday and she found the same results as I had.  She said that there is this CT that would be the next test, but she wanted to speak with the associate from prior to this appointment to make sure she is on the right track (she's a young doctor, but like I said... she's amazing!).  My Mom is a nurse in the office and after seeing me, the doc said to my Mom that it's "unusual" (or a similar word) and Mom said "if it's rare, that's my girl!"

When I got the return call she said she is ordering the test.  Ugh.  Let me explain why:

OK, so I did a search online and couldn't find anything on my "go to" medical sites other than abstracts, which are by definition, pretty much less-than-helpful to a peon like me.  To start, three hours prior to the test, they want me to have 32 oz of water.  And hold it!  They will catheterize me (woo hoo) and put dye up into my bladder just prior to doing the CT scan.

If that isn't enough fun for you, I go to a uro-gynecologist (who knew?) the following week and he will catheterize me again to look into my bladder.  I have to question if this isn't a larger catheter so he can fit a small camera in it, much like a lower endoscopy or something similar.  In which case, OUCH and more than the first time.

I think this does beg the question: do people in the medical field really like catheterizing people that much?  I've had one catheter in my life and it was inserted while I was under anesthesia.  I asked my doctor if I was going to be awake (jokingly) and she said "no, but I can give you something."  I thanked her and said that I had plenty of stuff here.

Of course there is has been a lot of co-ordinating of services - there has to be blood work done at least 2 days prior to the test, the test needs to be pre-auth'd or pre-cert'd (I can't remember which) and after I was done with setting all of that up, I had to schedule with the uro-gyno and make sure that appt is far enough out from the test so the full results would be available.

There are far too many people "down there" - as if the annual gyn appt isn't bad enough.

For fun, in the midst of this, I've been doing aquatic therapy for my back 3x/week, seeing a hand specialist, seeing my neurologist for a hand-related test, and have my monthly psychiatry appt and my weekly therapy sessions.  I'm tired just writing it.

Anyway that's my Weekend medical update.

Any chance I can get on SNL, just for one update???  I didn't think so.

A Fistula? Huh?

To get this out of the way:

A fistula is an abnormal connection between an organ, vessel, or intestine and another structure. Fistulas are usually the result of injury or surgery. It can also result from infection or inflammation. (as defined by the NIH)

Now, getting back to the topic at hand.  I did a test this morning which would rule out a fistula.  I got the results (something required to be done on my end) and called the doctor.  She said "hmmmm.... let me talk with <another doctor in the practice> and I'll call you back."  Ok?  She called back and said it would be rare for me to have a fistula so far out from my hysterectomy (years!) and that she would like me to re-do the test (which is no fun, by the way) and go to the office on Tuesday for her to do the final part of the test so she can see the results for herself.  Gee, this isn't nerve-wracking at all!

It's important to understand that "rare" is the kiss of death for me.  With one injury alone:

1. most people don't need surgery for this injury
2. it's strange that PT didn't work
3. surgery: finds 5 torn ligaments in my ankle when only one showed up on the MRI
4. post-op I thought I popped a stitch, so call the doc.  I get his associate who says to go in.  It turns out I had a large burst hematoma (a pocked of blood beneath the skin)  It's uncommon in your situation and to be directly under the incision, says the doctor
5. I go and see my doctor a bit later (I can't remember if it was no more than 2 weeks later, but I'd imagine it was the sooner part of that) who says that in all his years of practice he's never seen such a this happen (it was ugly, people, super nasty - I won't disgust you by posting a picture)
6. There's nothing else I can do (says the surgeon) but it's odd for it not to heal by now so you'll have to go to the wound care clinic.

This was all in December 2013 when I had my ankle surgery and had the rollator, so that's why I'm saying it was within a shorter period of time.

You get the idea?  Rare = my world

So, I did some research.  I know, I know, the internet is a dangerous place for research, but I try to stick to the NIH, Hopkins, Mayo - reputable sites.  They all basically agreed with my doctor, although she is amazing and I'd expect no less.  There are some pretty uncomfortable tests which could be done after I see my doc on Tuesday.  Surgery is a possible cure.  Yep, rare.  Sigh....

Crash and Burn

Some of you  may think this sounds like one big gripe-fest, but it's just what my life is like right now.  To start, this whole bipolar thing has gotten out of control.  I saw a new psychiatrist  last month and my diagnosis has been officially changed to bipolar 2 (aka bpII).  My life is less-than-enjoyable these days.  It's not that I can put my finger on something specific and say "this" is why I crashed into a full-fledged depression.  I did lose a friend a few weeks back.  He was from our church that closed in the Spring, so haven't seen him since then.  I'll tell you, though, this guy gave THE BEST hugs!  Every Sunday I would walk into church and he would come over and give me a giant hug, complementing me on something - anything.  One woman teased that she could be wearing a sack and he would tell her how beautiful she looked.  He was just that kind of guy.  He was kind-hearted and genuine.  He is missed.  I also developed a few new friendships who seem to think that mental illness isn't "real" because it is more of a spiritual issue.  I don't want to get into specifics, nor do I want any comments about this.  I only say it because it is something in my life, as it stands right now.

As for my weight... well, I had lost those 25 lbs without trying the end of last year through the early part of this year.  Then I went on Weight Watchers (which rocks, by the way) and lost another 23-ish pounds.  Then my mental health tanked.  I've lost count of how many pints of Ben and Jerry's I've enjoyed.  I also got some regular Turkey Hill ice cream to save money.  Today was a Wegman's brand version of Ben and Jerry's.  It didn't come close as far as flavor.  I'll spend the extra dollar for the real stuff from here on out.  While you probably can't tell from this, I am super ticked off that I'm pigging out.  I'm also super ticked off that the depression is back.  They are absolutely related, although one is a choice (sort of) and the other is not.  Intellectually I know I have a choice over the junk food bingeing but it sure doesn't feel like it.

One of the dogs was sick for a few weeks so I was taking both pups for a walk virtually ever day.  It probably did good things for my mood.  It was so much easier to go for a walk every day when I was doing it for Casey and not myself.  Especially with the depression I have no motivation.  So now, I am not walking.  It's a vicious cycle.  Vicious!

So, as a fat chick I say that it's ok to go off plan every so often.  Weight Watchers actually allows for it.  BUT when this has become a multiple week thing, well, it's hit a bad, bad place.  And those... are today's musings.

Frustrated

The title just about sums it up.

Now, where to start?

I am a born-again Christian.  I'm sure some people will stop reading immediately and unsubscribe.  And you know what?  I'm good with that.  I mean, I don't want anyone to go.  I'm starting with small enough numbers as it is.  But it's true.  I am a sinner and I am sure that God has forgiven me through the life and death/sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ.  I tell you that because I want to lay that on the table and give you a filter through which you can use for future posts and comments.

So, my church of nearly 14 years has dissolved.  It was a church plant, meaning that a larger church saw a need in this neck of the woods.  My understanding is that specifically for my church, there were a lot of people at the larger church who lived in my area and a church plant would offer them a place to worship nearer their homes.

Now that I've gone on and on about that...

The closing of my church leaves me looking for a new church family.  That is the source of some frustration and certainly a lot of stress!  There is a church we've been attending for several months now.  We like love the preaching.  The pastor, his wife, and their 4 kids are amazing.  I guess a big hindrance for us is the music.  MrB's main ministry involvement is in music.  He really enjoys playing on the worship team and did so most every week at our last church.  We've spoken with the pastor of the "new" church and he would really like to update the music.  It seems the big snag is how some of the older members of the church might react to more contemporary music.  The pastor will be speaking with others on the elder board to see if it would be possible to add some "beat" into the songs.

I'm absolutely bogged down with medical stuff.  One doctor refers me to another doctor who orders tests, or at least another doctor to discuss if a test is necessary.  It's crazy.  I've been prioritizing the urgency of each appt or test.  The pile of papers I have from doctors is insane.  I'm trying to keep organized, but it's hard.  First and foremost I have to try to keep current the diagnoses and medication for existing conditions.  That already means a ton of appts and labs.  Some of the docs to whom I've been referred consider me a new patient, either because it's been so long since I've been, or because I am actually a new patient.  This means that it's a long time before there is a new patient appt available.  Meanwhile other stuff is on hold until those appts occur and/or until I can have a specific test.  Needless to say it's another source of frustration, for sure.

Sir Groundhog.  At least that's what we call him.  He travels between the yards of several people in the neighborhood.  Needless to say, our yard is one of those "blessed" yards.  I'm sure I've mentioned that we have two dogs (as well as two cats).  These dogs are wild about Sir Groundhog.  They literally go wild.  There is incessant barking and vertical jumping.  The video to the right is what I mean.  Ok, evidently the video refuses to load onto this page.  Grrrr!  And I just went looking for an emoticon for the "grrrr" and don't see them anywhere.  Grrrr squared!

Ok, just throwing it out there -- I'm frustrated with being FAT!  My weight has fluctuated ever since I was a kid.  I'm pretty sure I've already posted about that and it's not really vital to today.  Anyway my weight has gone up and down, mostly up in the past decade.  I weigh more than 100 lbs than I did when I stopped working in late 2000.  100 pounds.  Let that sit with you for a minute.  I have to say that I'm on a bunch of meds and many of the cause weight gain and/or slow my metabolism.  I do have a number of medical conditions which preclude my ability to workout like a "normal" preson.  Add to the mix that I'm in my early 40s and it's a recipe for failure.  It's not an excuse, just a statement of fact.  I was all ready to join a gym a couple of months back... and to get a personal trainer.  When I mentioned some of the major physical stuff he said that he wanted a doc's clearance before he'd work with me.  That has turned into a nightmare of coordinating physician's service and the joy of hours on the phone with the insurance company.  All that to say I'm stuck in this place...  If I may make a sports reference (and only because MrB had the game on), it's like a baseball player running back and forth between two bases.

I could continue my rant and my griping, but I'm sure I did enough of that for now (and for a long time to come).  I've been working on this for several days now, getting distracted with the dogs, email, searching for new blinds, etc.  Perhaps that explains the length.  Either that or I'm making excuses again...

General Musings...

First off, a grand HELLO to all of you and please know that I feel blessed you have taken time out of your day to hear my musings.  So, let's get started!

I know this isn't new, but it is a self-esteem buster if ever I knew one.  Plus size.  You know the term.  It's the size given to those clothes that are just too big to don mannequins.  It's a term whose definition has changed over the years.  It's a size I've worn for a long time (read: decades).  When I got married at 135 lbs on my 5'5" frame I was wearing "those" clothes.  There's something humiliating about the term.  It indicates that you have "plus" what society says you ought to.  Should it affect self-esteem or be humiliating?  Of course not.  If you're totally confident with your body, then no, you should have absolutely no problem walking into Lane Bryant and coming out with a bag - not responding to the looks and comments by telling others you are buying something "for a friend" or "as a gift."

I've been shopping the "fat" stores for... well... pretty much my entire life.  Years and years ago, I plumped up to a size larger than what they have in stores.  An aside: don't you love the terms people use to be PC about someone who's fat?  Plump.  Heavy.  Overweight.  Put on a few extra pounds.  Big girl.  There are too many of them to count.  Ok, back to my original thought.  A couple of days ago, I was talking with a very dear friend of mine.  She lives several hours away from me so she sent a picture of herself to me wearing an outfit she needed for an event.  She's a stay-at-home-Mom of a toddler (she has a wonderful blog) and has no clothes for professional meetings.  We got into a discussion about how absurd it is for these stores touting themselves as being for a "Woman" (I think of one store with this as part of their name) start their sizes at 12.  12!

Not to beat a dead horse, but I was a 12/14 at 135 lbs.  You had to know that I'd add a wedding picture!  I felt the most beautiful at our wedding!  It also gives a touch of my Disney side - we entered our reception with these guys on our heads.  Hubby's is a bit hard to see but it's a top hap with ears.  The picture on the right is from our honeymoon (in Disney, specifically the Yacht Club) and gives a slightly better view of my bod back in 1995.

I have probably said (a zillion times) how I've struggled with weight my entire life.  Doctors said needed to lose weight.  The famous "charts" showed me as overweight.  Has anyone ever actually seen these charts?  I did Weight Watchers and Nutri-System with my Mom.  She was doing what she thought best from what the doctors had told her.  She is a smart woman, an RN, but weight issues aren't her area of expertise.  The term "childhood obesity" wasn't used back then.  I was "heavier" than most people/girls in my grade, so I was automatically labeled "the fat kid."  I look at pictures from my childhood and would just about kill for that body (even if I could go back to that age and look the same).  I was no Kate Moss, I was no model, I had a burger and milkshake sometimes  Gosh, do you think everyone and their uncle calling me overweight affected my self-esteem?  It couldn't possibly be contributing to my food and weight issues today, could it?  I get angry every time I think about it!

Whoa, I am getting distracted more than usual today.  Now back to my friend.  She is in between the "regular" stores and the "fat" ones.  How is it that the size 12 girl (to be clear I do not know what size my friend is) can't just walk into any store she desires to find clothes?  Is it necessary to send her into the abyss that is the "fat" store?  Fortunately my friend isn't embarrassed by this.  Fortunately my friend found something to wear.  Gone are the days of "fatties" wearing a muumuu, thankfully.  That doesn't make it ok to force a size 12 to enter a store that caters to size 26...  Yes, I do realize that stores have "plus size" areas, some stores do carry size 12 as well as a size 2, and that I'm making generalizations.  Before anyone reams me about this, I'm trying to make a point!

The entire population of the world has, no doubt, heard the stats about Marilyn Monroe being what is considered certainly what today's standards consider "Hollywood" worthy.  See this article from the files of snopes.com.  Conversely we have the beloved Barbie.  I found multiple sites I'd like to link to.  The first is titled "Barbie as a real woman is anatomically impossible and would have to walk on all fours, chart shows "  The second, The 'average' doll v Barbie (from BBC NEWS MAGAZINE MONITOR), shows what "real life" dolls would appear with Barbie's measurements.  The final link I want to share is this one, which I find impressive, dare I saw inspiring.  You'll have to click on it to see what I'm talking about.

While it is discussed in most references to these stats, I would be remiss if forgetting to mention the way Barbie affects women, specifically as it relates to eating disorders.  The articles above will touch on this and I think it would be wise to take heed to this and apply the positive implications it offers to the girls in your life.  Start early!

Shockingly I got side-tracked... again...  Maybe the best thing for me to do is to let you ponder all of this.  How does the term "plus size" affect you?  Do you find it embarrassing to buy clothes at stores advertising that they sell "fat" clothes, if you do fall into that category?  What are your feelings about using "fat" and "fatty?"  Do you stare at people who are obese, maybe thinking that you're better than... that at least you aren't "that" size?  How do you feel about women, such as myself, who have to shop via catalog, no longer fitting into the "Woman" stores?

Please, share your opinions.  Start discussions.  Think!

As an added after-comment: I have no idea whatsoever how to get rid of the few lines with a white background.  I've spent a ton of time working on it.  Rather than let it drive me even more insane, I'm going to (try to) go with it.  Apologies.

When Life Enters the Picture

There is no excuse.  None. At all.

However I'm going to offer one up anyway.

Life.

Life is crazy busy.  You know it.  It's true for you, too.  It seems to be true for everyone these days, doesn't it?  Work.  Cooking.  Shopping.  Movies.  Dinner out.  Family visits.  Friend visits.  Cooking for said visits.  Phone calls.  Life.

Personally, my life has taken a turn further into crazy with appointments and testing out the wazoo (I can't believe wazoo is a real word!).  I won't go into all the craziness of it all, but it's there.

My last post (embarrassingly nearly a year ago) was about a month after I fell.  I had had my MRI and was doing PT.  Ahhhh, such innocent days.  After PT was unsuccessful, the doctor and I decided it was best to schedule surgery.  Eeep, surgery!

Ok, I'll back up.  I go to the surgeon for the first time and he tells me that the type(s) of injuries I sustained rarely needs surgery.  I laugh at him because I had the same injury on my other ankle years ago and wound up having surgery.  I have the surgery in early December and was told that I needed to be non-weight-bearing for 3 weeks.  For someone the size of a hippopotamus that essentially means that I have to live upstairs for those 3 weeks.  To be clear, 3 weeks/21 days after surgery is Christmas Day.  Brilliant.  Someone morbidly obese... ok, I cannot use my weak upper arms to hold up my big-fat body with crutches.  I borrowed a Knee Scooter from a friend and that was a life-saver.  It took a bit to get used to, but crutches were absolutely NOT an option, I was thankful for this.  I had a really hard time going up and down the individual steps in front of the house and wound up crawling on my knees.  It wasn't pretty.

Moving on...  ok, so, I had the surgery on a Wednesday and had a quick check-up on Monday.  All looked good.  Monday night the pain was unbearable.  The doctor had already given me Percocet and Vicodin, but when I called him at the end of the day, he prescribed Dilaudid.  Ok, taken.  But OUCH!  I was still hurting in agonizing pain.  I called him after-hours and he said there was nothing else to do; I should go to the ER.  He also mentioned that he's never had anyone go to the ER for post-op pain.  Hours later, after a lot of groaning, MrB came up and said that I really should head to the emergency room.  Off I went.  They gave me IV Dilaudid and I remember nothing after that.

Changing the bandages was a multi-step process on the outside of my ankle.  Given my size it was a difficult spot to make sure the dressings were secure, so MrB helped me - a lot!  One morning it looked as if I had popped a stitch and called the office to see if they would fix it in the office or if I needed to head to the ER (again).  They said to come, so MrB drove me over to see the partner in the practice.  The bottom line of that adventure was that I had a hematoma which burst at the incision site.  A couple of weeks later I had another follow-up with my doctor.  By that point, the area was ugly absolutely disgusting!  After removing the bandages my surgeon said that he had never seen this happen.

Have you lost count?  That's 1) injury doesn't usually require surgery, 2) never had anyone go to the ER for IV pain meds; 3) hasn't ever seen this problem.

Moving on to #4.  The wound was infected and I wound up going through four rounds of antibiotics.  The surgeon has never seen this (I've come to expect hearing those words by this point), but the wound wasn't healing after some time and he had to refer me to a wound clinic.  Yup.  Is anything ever easy?  So, off to the wound clinic I go.  The clinic treated me with some medical honey and it cleared up after 6-ish weeks.

That's enough life for this post.  But yeah, life has kept me busy since I'd last written.

The Joys of Physical Therapy

Yep, I'm in PT.  The results of my MRI are in.  I've done an excellent job.  My motto: "If you're going to do it, do it well!"  It seems I followed through on this one.  I have a few torn ligaments, a messed up tendon and a badly bruised bone - all on my left ankle.  Yep.  I did a good job.

I went to the yucky doctor, got the MRI results and scheduled a follow-up planning to cancel it (well before the date).  He looked at the MRI disc and told me about the ligaments and bone finds (as I think I already wrote about).  My good doc appointment was set for 8/9 and I was good to go.  I woke up on Monday, 7/15 to a call from the good doc's office - I was on the cancellation list and they had an opening at 2:30 THAT DAY and could I make it.  SOLD, I'll be there!!

He had a hard copy of the results and I had the CD with the films on them.  He looked at them and added the tendon injury to the already job well-done.  He ordered PT with an immediate goal being to get out of the boot.  For some reason, I was up for it when he ordered it.  I called the PT place the next day and had an appointment for the next day to have an evaluation!  He also addressed the right ankle and gave me a brace for it.  He is a podiatrist so can only deal with the ankles, but I knew that going in and am willing to suffer through while these specific injuries our dealt with.  Yes, my knee causes pretty severe pain but I just can't put up with finding another doctor to handle that right now.  If it gets worse, I'll think about it, but being in PT three times a week and mental health therapy twice a week, I'm pretty busy.  I know, it sounds like excuses, but I can only be so busy!

I had the eval and when I went to leave found out that my secondary insurance claims I am not on the policy.  HUH??  I had asked the facility when I scheduled if they took both of my insurances.  They did, but for some reason I'm suddenly dropped?  I've had many other claims since the beginning of the year (when the new plan began) and have been arguing with them over a number of claims for months.  I called the insurance and they said that I am indeed on the policy but that this PT facility isn't capitated for my specific coverage.  They gave me the name and number for a new place to go - someplace more than my current 5 minutes away.  Oh. My. Gosh!  Is this happening?  I called the woman at the facility and told her what was going on.  She spoke with a manager/supervisor and was told that they would essentially eat whatever isn't covered by my primary insurance.  WOW!  I realize that this is a new location for this company but they sure don't have to be this wonderful about it!  In doing this, since my secondary insurance isn't being billed, I no longer have to get a referral!  It doesn't get any better than this.

So, my ankle measurements, as far as flexibility, are pretty bad - not a surprise.  I have a number of exercises to do here at the house and even more to add to it when I'm with the therapist.  Last week, he added 6 minutes on the bike.  I lost 65-70 lbs a number of years back with my main exercise being the bike (recumbent bike, specifically).  Perhaps I can get motivated to use it on a regular basis - we do have one in our spare bedroom.  My injuries were hurting after having the boot on ALL day on Sunday and my knee had had enough.  There was a surprise party for my father on Sunday and I was working all day until he showed up - and then I had to visit with people and was on my feet a lot.  Anyway, my left ankle and right knee were killing me a minute into the bike, but I pushed through and made it all 6 minutes.  Whew!  Now if I can only make it up to 25-30 minutes or more, that would be ideal.  In the meantime, working on it....

If it's possible, I'm getting less exercise than normal since I got hurt.  I'm walking less back and forth to the kitchen or even standing.  Just moving causes extreme pain.  Putting all of my zillion pounds onto my ankles and knee is not good.  I am, however, thankful that the therapist hasn't mentioned once that if I lose weight it would help.  Frankly this isn't a chronic condition, it is an acute injury and he sees that.  Praise God!

I do have the Rollator but have only used it once to run errands.  I find myself always putting more weight on my right side since my left ankle hurts so much, making my right side pain increase.  The physical therapist mentioned that at some point I may require a cane.  I talked with a friend who uses a cane to get her review of The Hurry-cane and she loves (!!!) it so I ordered it.  I got it a few days ago, but haven't yet tested it out.  we'll see how that goes (especially since I'm more than 50 lbs over the weight limit - but I figure I won't be putting all of my weight on it at once so it should be fine).

So as it stands, I'm trying to work out of the boot and pray I don't need surgery.  A peripheral goal would be to pump up the cardio while I'm there and have to respond to someone.  When this is all said and done, it's off to find a personal trainer.  Oh, and OT is still on the table but hasn't taken the forefront with as busy as I've been due to my pain.  Whatever...

The Saga Continues

Yes, more drama...

My injuries have created a difficult time.  I have been instructed by the yucky doctor that I am to begin non-weight-bearing.  What is this guy thinking?  First of all., my "900 lb" body cannot be held up by my arms (on a walker or crutches).  In addition, my other ankle and knee are also injured!  So, I am supposed to put all of my weight onto a sprained ankle and knee.  Sure.  No problem...  Well, I was WRONG.  I have to say, I have a Rollator so I was still weight-bearing on my injured leg, but attempted to at least lessen the amount of my fatness being put onto that ankle.

That was yesterday.  There were some errands the hubby and I ran.  For a normal person, it would have been fine, in fact it would have been very few stores.  For me, let's just say that I was virtually unable to put any weight on either leg by the end of the day.  I wasn't able to make it to church today and wound up in bed until 11:30am.  I think the pain wore me out and/or kept me sleeping because it was so bad.  You know, pain can be exhausting!

Hubby has been great!  He isn't letting me get up from the chair for the most part since he got home from the supermarket.  However, he can't get me to the bathroom and sure can't carry me up and down the steps.  I have a therapy appt on Tuesday and his office is on the second floor.  I'm not sure I can make it - especially when I take into account the hour's drive to get there.  Wednesday is a haircut.  Friday I have to do a ton to get ready for a party for my Father on Sunday.  Just writing it is making me tired and causing my knee and ankles to throb.

I am scheduled to see the yucky doctor in about a week and a half.  He danced around the idea that he'll order PT for me at that point (but that I'm too fragile for that right now).  I think it's best (maybe) to wait and see what the good doc says - though that isn't until 8/9.  I don't know... do I wait that long so I can see the good doc, or do I go with the yucky doc and try PT, even though I'm not entirely non-weight-bearing, so don't feel like I"m ready for that; I need to rest my ankle more since I am putting weight on it.  Any thoughts/suggestions would be appreciated.

Thanks, y'all!

And so it Goes...

I'm having extreme back pain - I'm talking can't stand for more than a few minutes, scream out in pain when I try to move,  don't touch me kind of back pain.  I finally gave in and went to see an ortho doc.  When the PA was doing the initial evaluation, I told her that I KNOW losing weight will help, but I've had this pain on and off since high school (I graduated in 1990).  The doctor comes in and in his less-than-five-minute exam he tells me that I need to lose weight (as if I didn't already freakin' know that!) and he sent me to PT, which I told him in the past has caused my pain to worsen.  He did throw out there that I might want to try to find a low back pain water class at the Y...  When checking out, the receptionist told me that I am likely very limited as to which facility I can even use for PT and will need a referral (I might add here that the referral I requested for this appointment last week hadn't arrived - and it's done electronically!).  This is the way my life goes these days.  More reasons to hate the insurance company.  So, what did I do with my frustration when I got home?  I opened up bags of candy and ate until I felt nauseous.  Yeah, this is helpful.

How long until I decide to do something about this nightmare?

Have you ever just opened a bag of chocolate chips...

Have you ever just opened a bag of chocolate chips because you craved chocolate and it was the only thing in the house?  Yeah, that's where I'm at.  There is a bag of candy in the fridge, but it belongs to Keith.  Ok,, sure I've had a little bit of it - who wouldn't?  But I'm not going to gorge myself on it.

I did have a small-ish dinner last night... only one piece of meatloaf and some mashed potatoes.  Neither of us felt like messing with the fresh green beans.  I know, I know, that's no good but I tire easily and Keith, well, he does so much around the house; I'm very blessed!

We're waiting for a new leash to come in (it's on order now).  It's called the Wacky Walkr (yep, that's how it's spelled) and it's supposed to help with pulling.  The pulling really aggravates the arthritis in my back.  Once it comes in (along with the "Crazy Coupler" - which you can see on the site), I'm hoping I can take the dogs out for walks; short walks to start and working up to longer ones.

Whoopsie.... I just noticed that I had posted the above on my other blog!  It's A Tale of Two Dogs and certainly those readers don't want to hear about my chocolate chip dilemma!  If you'd like to read it, please, link to the above and it will take you right there.

As I mentioned, my therapist is out for a number of weeks.  I met with his colleague last week, and will again tomorrow.  She's quite nice and understanding about my feelings on my doc being out, which is nice.  I was afraid that she'd think I was crazy to be "mourning" this time without him.

I saw a doctor on Friday.  First thing when I sat down in his office I noticed a scale.  "No big deal" I thought; perhaps he's keeping track of his own weight or some odd thing like that.  No.  It seems new insurance regulations require that he take height, weight, blood pressure and pulse at each appointment.  And, since everything has switched over to medical records he can't get away without doing it.  Now, my Mom works in a doc's office and said that they are required to enter 3 vitals into the system.  Who knows....?  In any event, having eaten breakfast and lunch before my appointment and being fully dressed except for my shoes, I weighed 7 lbs more than I last did at home (when I'm undressed and haven't yet eaten).  Either way, though, it's 7 lbs and was quite a shocker to see, let alone for anyone else to see.  I don't talk numbers with my weight, I just don't!

Ok, well, if you're reading my blog(s), please join so you can get an email when I make a new post!  Also, I'd love to hear your comments!!  Is there anything you'd like to talk about or read about?  Let me know!!

Seriously?

It's been an interesting week.

I've had this cough for a month now.  Last Wednesday I started feeling dizzy/light-headed when I coughed when standing.  Life goes on.  Thursday I woke up with a migraine and started to feel dizzy all the time, even when sitting down and not coughing.  Then I noticed some vision changes in my right eye.  I called and spoke with a couple different nurses at my doctor's office and together we decided that it would be best if I go to the ER.  Ok, arrived at the ER at 5pm and saw the worst nurse known to man.  He had no personality and made me feel like I was bothering him and angering him when I asked to go to the bathroom and when he had to do things like get my vitals or check the IV fluid.  By the way, he put the automatic blood pressure cuff on the same arm as the IV.  Can you say OUCH?

After all was said and done - a CT showed I did not have a new stroke and the bloodwork showed no abnormalities explaining my symptoms - they admitted me.  I got up to my room at 1am on Friday morning and was awakened every 2 hours for neuro checks.  Good times!  The docs did all sorts of checks and I saw a bunch of different specialists on Friday, but they would not discharge me, despite everything coming up basically normal.  I do have a visual field deficit from my previous stroke, which was sometime between 2003 and 2009.

Saturday - my BIRTHDAY - I woke up and saw both the hospitalist and the neurologist.  The hospitalist said he wanted to keep me another day.  WHAT?  I said that I really wanted to go home, plus explained that it was my bday.  After disagreeing with me about it being my bday (evidently my chart said it was Thursday - or he misread my admit date), he agreed saying that nobody should be in the hospital on their birthday.  Whew!!  Shortly thereafter, the neurologist came in.  He is an colleague of my regular neuro and is quite young.  He did his checks and told me he wants me to get a sleep study -- that I am at high risk for sleep apnea, which can explain a number of my symptoms, including weight gain (!).  I had heard the recommendation from another doctor so was not surprised at this.  They did decide that the symptoms were due to the migraine (even though the headache part of it went away Thursday morning).

What came next, though, blew my mind... in fact I still can't wrap my mind around it.  He said that he did not want me driving and that I have to take a driving test/evaluation.  Is he serious??  Evidently he is concerned about my visual field deficit and how it affects my driving.  HUH?  I've been driving with said deficit since I had the stroke, more than 3 years ago!  I have not gotten in an accident, hit anything, heck, I have never gotten a speeding ticket!

I call the facility which performs these evaluations and they have to have the doctor complete a form before I can schedule.  Oh, and they are booked through February (and this is before waiting for the doctor to fill out said paperwork)!  Of course I have more than a half dozen appointments in the next month.  I have to rearrange and reschedule everything on my calendar and rely on my husband to drive me places.

I suffered from agoraphobia for years and was afraid to go anywhere, having panic attacks.  I stayed in the house, except to go see my therapist - for years!  Now I'm forbidden to drive so am stuck in the house and going bonkers after a very short period of time!  I did beg of the neuro to allow me to drive to see my therapist yesterday.  It was his last day before going out on medical leave for 6-8 weeks and I needed to go.  He worded his order in such a way that I could drive there.

Now I'm stuck - and going to lose my mind!!  You may read some pretty irrelevant blog posts for a while.... me trying to keep busy.  Don't judge me ;-)

Still Fat

Yep, it's true - I'm still fat.  Ugh!  I had surgery on Thursday and begged the doctor to just suck out some of this fat while he was in there.  His response?  "Most women ask me to do this" (it was a gynecological surgery, so he only operates on women).  Well that doesn't answer my question!  I have my answer now and it's a clear and resounding "NO!"  Hmph!

To add to it, I had the joy of repeated humiliation each and every time someone had to inspect my incisions (5 little laproscopic holes.  Nurses, doctors, medical techs - heck, the folks who delivered meals might as well have asked me to pull up my gown!  I'm not proud of my flab and NOT excited to show it off for all to see.

I'm very thankful that none of the doctors told me I need to lose weight.  I hate that!  It's like they are the first person to have this revelation and it's news to me!  I was certain as they lifted up flab, I'd hear about it.  I'm so thankful that I didn't - thank you doctors!!

So, I spend the next several weeks with limited activity (as if I started out super active, right?) and taking painkillers - which doesn't thrill me.  Hub's car is paid off in June.  Then we're off to the "Y."  I have to do something.