Take a Look At Me Now (A childhood friend has rejected me, but I can’t stop thinking about them)

Your Name: Prussia
Subject: A douchebag I happen to love
Message: So theres this jerk. We grew up together, and all that stuff. Then he's all, "You aren't cool enough to be my friend" and shuns me for the rest of my life. At first I was all, "Pffff who cares?I'm to awesome to be cool" and life went on. He's a total douche and is a known player and wannabe gangster. I'm an overegotistical rebel who wears Darth Vader helmets. We're total opposites; and actually, I scare him. I'm feared. But that loser has been plaguing my thoughts and I don't know how to make it stop.
Help?

Prussia,

The way you make it stop is that you stop trying to make it stop.  When you have someone you've been close to for a long time, especially early in life, it's not easy to let them go.  Pretending that you don't care is a good initial defense mechanism, but it doesn't really help you resolve that feeling of loss.  First, put a little perspective on it.  This person hasn't shunned you for the rest of your life-most of your life probably hasn't happened yet!  Second, realize that it's probably more about their insecurities than any real feelings towards you.  You're electic and an oddball and there are people out there who appreciate that.  This guy doesn't sound like one of them.  He sounds like he's still searching for his identity.  Third, sometimes people grow apart and it's hard to figure out how to get out of a situation.  Some people are more graceful than others; some do it via text message.  Either way, it sucks for the person who didn't see it coming.  Though you felt close, it seems that you also knew that the feeling was no longer mutual.  Why would you want to continue a relationship with someone who you feel is afraid of you?  Either, they have reason to be afraid, or more likely, they don't recognize and can't appreciate the person behind the Darth Vader helmets.  

I personally prefer a straight-forward approach on this subject, but not really for the reason people may think.  Some people go into confrontation thinking that they're going to be vindicated, only to be left with a worse feeling than they had to start.  I suggest talking to the person one on one not for their great revelation of "Ohmygod, how did I not appreciate this amazingly awesome person?!", but for your own peace of mind.  Let them know that they're important to you, that your friendship is important, and that if they don't want to continue it but need you in the future, that you're there for them.  Now, don't go saying it if you don't mean it, because you never know if they'll come knocking on your door one day.  However, if you care about them, it's important to put it out there.  You can walk away from the situation, knowing that you did what you could.  Unlike the other person, you won't have any nagging regrets.  They may not be comfortable enough with their own identity to accept yours, but that doesn't mean that it will be that way forever.  And, I find that if it never comes about, that by the time you notice, you won't feel such a sense of longing or loss.  It may just sting a bit, rather than burn.  

A little self-reflection is needed here, too.  You list a lot of negative qualities that would suggest you shouldn't want to be close with this person, yet you still want to be.  Why?  What are their positive qualities?  How did those get overrun by the negative?  And, what is it about your own personality that makes you want to keep putting yourself into a situation that sounds like it can only go negatively?  There was a time in my life where I thought it was better to have people that you disliked afraid of you more than anything.  I found it sort of funny, really.  But, in the end, I realized that they weren't afraid of me so much as their negative, incorrect interpretation of me and that it had little to do with reality.  As soon as I stopped thinking about it, I hardly thought of those people at all.  It's been more than a decade now, and I really hadn't thought about it until your submission.  Things that seem so important and crucial become foggy memories and anecdotes. My point is to think about why and how you define yourself and if it's to create an image, or if it's the authentic you.  If it's authentic, then continue on and find people that appreciate that.  If it's not, use the time apart from this person to figure it out.

You Told Me I Was Pretty When I Looked Like a Mess (My surgery, recovery, and amazing husband)

I got my surgery on Wednesday, and it is now Sunday.  I had to ask what day it is because they've honestly been blending together quite a bit.  And, when you don't step outside, it's easy to lose track of the day-like being in a casino.  Oh, how I like poker and slot machines.  Actually, I feel very unlucky on slot machines but they're so tempting with their stupid bonuses.  Anyway, it's Sunday and I wanted to update with how I was feeling post surgery.

I should start with the pre-op appointments.  I went to my doctor six days before surgery and did one final review regarding the surgery.  I asked some questions, such as if I'd be able to make a hockey game in two weeks (yes, as long as I wasn't playing haha) and if I could make it up my stairs after I went home (yes, very slowly.)  I asked about showering (fine with the steri-strips) and asked about tampons (those are a no for at least a month.)  She did a final exam to get a final idea of where the fibroid was, and this is when she said she could feel it rolling around.  Good lord, surgery couldn't come soon enough!  I signed the final consent papers acknowledging that I knew what surgery I was getting, and I reminded her about the D&C, which she had not put on the paper.  She handwrote it, and we both inititaled it.  Later that day, I had an appt. with an education nurse where I took my signed consent with me.  Here, they asked me questions about an advanced directive (I said no, that if something went insanely out of whack, it'd be up to my husband) and if I was a smoker, if I exercised, who I wanted as my contact, if I had any more questions, and a few other things I can't remember.  I had to give a urine sample to make sure I wasn't pregnant and give two vials of blood to confirm my blood type and that I had enough of everything that's supposed to be in your blood for better healing.  It also confirms that you don't have antibodies that attack your body afterwards.  The line was backed up, so she directed me to wait in the hall.  I was playing games on my phone, so honestly lost track of time.  I also read that the appointment took a couple of hours.  After over an hour, I realized that this is the longest I had ever waited at the doctor's.  Finally, another nurse noticed me and asked if I hadn't already been through there.  I told him I was waiting on giving my blood samples when he, my nurse, and I noticed that I had been forgotten about!  I was going to go in really angry, but my nurse was so apologetic and gave me a hug and asked what she could do to make it up to me.  At that, I let it go.  Why be angry?  Mistakes happen, and she acknowledged it immediately.  I also realized that it could have been a misunderstanding (she may have thought that I was going to come back in of my own accord, she could have meant to tell me to come back in in a few minutes.)  She thanked me for being so nice and understanding about her mistake and said if I was ever waiting for more than twenty minutes, to notify someone because it's not normal.  Based on my experience, that's true and had I not been caught up with "Bookworm," I probably would have said something sooner so I recognized my part in it, too.  Lesson elarned:  don't just wait around when you don't think you should be waiting around.  The blood draw wasn't too bad, but she said my blood was draining slowly, even with my arm relaxed and outstretched.  I have to say that Kaiser has some of the best blood drawers, though.  I have had terrible nurses in the past who kept jabbing me until I cried uncle.  All of my blood results were on kp.org within a day (Can I also talk about how great this website is?  Email your doctor, see your results, schedule appointments. Love it!)  Everything was in range, so everything was still a go.

The day before my surgery, I get a call around 10:30, earlier than expected, that told me to come  in by 5:15 am.  Really?  Are you trying to make me too sleepy to be anxious?  Nenad does his husbandly duty and wakes me up at four so I can take a shower since it'll probably be a while before I get a chance to take another.  I stopped eating the night before around nine and had my last drink of water at 11:30.  Man, nothing makes you want to have water more than being told not to drink it.  I pack my overnight bag and have Nenad keep it in the car for me.  In it are slippers, a "Happy Bunny" robe that says "It's cute how you think I'm listening" that my mom gave me, face wipes, antibacterial wipes, toothpaste and a toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, a hair brush, hair ties, deoderant, baby powder, and dry shampoo spray.  I also have pajamas, my ipad, my phone, and a change of clothes, as well as fuzzy socks.  

I check in at the security desk and turn in my Kaiser health card.  After about fifteen minutes, I am called in to verify my information on an id bracelet and show my picture Id.  I fill in a contact phone number for my ride and am directed to wait in another little area.  Here, there is a tv screen which reads who is at the hospital (by a numerical number), when their surgery is and where they are (checking in, in OR etc.)  This is to help keep the families up to date.  After about another fifteen minutes, I have to go in by myself.  Nenad is told he can come back around 8 am, so he leaves to get breakfast.  I had a feeling he shouldn't leave, that it'd be sooner, but I wanted him to eat.  When I get to the back, more pee, just in case I got pregnant between last week and now. Now, this is an aside, but I really don't like how they make you walk around carrying your own pee.  They should at least give you an opaque bag to put it in  Even when they do give you a bag, which isn't often, it's clear!  I get that everyone there is probably doing the same thing, but I hate walking in the public halls with pee.  I just think it could had .5% more comfort to the situation.

Once I walk down the hall, I am given my pre-op bed (licky #5) and a bag to put my clothes in and a gown to change into, as well as slip-free fuzzy socks (turns out I didn't need my own!)  The gown strangle has pockets, but I learn that this is so you can warm up your hands to pump your veins up for the iv.  Okay, now I regret those chick fil-a nuggets.  I thought for sure I'd have gone to the bathroom by now.  I am someone who goes every day, and if I eat certain foods (two packs of nori, for instance) I am guaranteed to go within hours.  Well, I ate my nori, where is my BM?!  I am getting a little panicked as she takes my blood pressure, and asks me all the standard questions.  I start a little ruckus when I mention that I am allergic to plastic bandages.  "What?  This isn't on your chart!"  I say that I know it isn't because I just found out last week when I broke out in a rash after using plastic bandages.  She gets a red wrist band that says ALLERGY and writes "plastic tape" on it. She said this is considered an intolerance, less severe than an allergy, but they need to mark it.  I also mention that I have an intolerance ot drinking alcohol, hoping I don't get in more trouble.  This one doesn't seem to matter and I relax.

Then, there are a few non-standard questions. "Have you suffered a recent loss, such as death or divorce, that may impact your emotional health after surgery?"  What?  It turns out that they also check if there is something that would affect your mental health and have someone follow up if there is such a circumstance.  I myself had previously been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and mention it, though I no longer take medication for it and only have occasional breakthrough anxiety.  As she's finishing, she tells me that it's time for the IV.  No!  Can I go to the bathroom?  She takes a heartbeat monitor out of the plug and wraps it around my finger and tells me that it's good that I asked before the iv.  I run to the restroom and think, Okay.  This is it.  Come on.  Nope.  Not gonna happen.  I am really sad about this because my doctor told me that it could take a week for my intestines to be normal.  She said that the first good sign is passing gas, which means that the "juices are flowing" again.  Awesome.  Nobody tells you that the first highlight of recovery is going to be passing gas.  Well, I tried.  I keep imagining that something terrible is going to befall me because I ate at nine, even though they said to stop at midnight.  I accept my fate and get back to bed.  

At this point, a lot of people start introducing themselves to me.  First, there is the anesthesia nurse.  Then, there is the anesthesiologist.  He asks me some questions, whether I have had surgery before, if I know if anyone in my family has had a reaction to anesthesia, etc.  He asks me if I am on any prescribed drugs or do drugs recreationally or if I am a smoker.  Smoking affects your body's ability to absorb oxygen but miraculously, your body can start to heal within twelve hours of quitting.  So, smokers, even if you only quit for a day before surgery, it could help your healing process exponentially.  He explains that anesthesia puts your body completely to sleep.  In fact, you don't even breathe on your own.  They put a tube down your throat to use a ventilator.  He says that the complaint is usually a scratchy throat from the tube and some hoarseness, but cough drops and non-acidic drinks will help soothe it.  Some people get nauseous from anesthesis and throw up afterwards, but they can give me medication to help if that's the case. He tells me that based on my history, he expects everything to go smoothly.  He does make a joke that the good thing about Michael Jackson is that people know that anesthesia is not "willy nilly" business and said it added job security.  I think about how some of my friends would hate that joke, but it's right in my level of appropriateness so I don't mind.  Finally, there is the anesthesia medical student who will be assisting.  He asks me to open my mouth, move my head around, and explains that these tests are to see how easy it will be to get the tube down.  He asks if I can open my mouth wider.  I say, "Um.  Sorry, no parlour tricks of hand in mouth for me.  That's it."  He laughs and says that they use tools to guide the tool down and that it may be a little difficult.  I also point out the bone bump on the roof of my mouth.  He doesn't seem pleased with this, either.  Great.  i can see "difficult" written across his face.

The nurse comes back and puts the iv in and tells me that my husband can come back.  Damnit!  I knew it.  It's only seven am.  They check for him and see that he is not there.  I ask if there's a phone i can use, and she tells me that unfortunately, they turn in their personal cell phones and only have these pager things that work in the hospital.  They assure me that they'll bring him back as soon as he comes, and they leave a message at the front desk for him.  I get my iv, which is relatively quick and painless.  I can't stand to look at it, though.  Saline fluids start, along with something mixed it to start to make me drowsy.  Time passes really quickly at this point.  i am all cozy in that bed, socks on, gown wrapped aorund me, and my hands under the covers.  I also have my hair in one of those covers and my glasses on, ready to give them to Nenad when he comes.  i don't like the idea of not seeing while I am still awake.

Finally, Nenad comes back and apologizes for not being there sooner.  I am a little loopy and just happy that he's there.  He says I look cute in my head cover and gown.  We have this joke, where I tell him "no...go on" when he gives me a compliment, and this time is no expection.  He takes a picture to send to my family and too soon, it's time for me to get rolled away.  He is able to walk next to me to the door, and I go on my way.  Even though I am out of it, I can see where we're going.  The room is not like Grey's Anatomy.  It is very white, with grey instruments overhead.  I am told to breathe deeply, and everything's gone.

I wake up, with cramping pain but not as bad as I was expecting.  I have an insane feelingof having to go to the bathroom, but there is already a catheter so these are just spasms and I am told they will fade. Unfortunately, they have already given me morphine and I still hurt.  They give me 50 mg of who knows what, and another 50 mg more of who knows what when I say that it didn't help.  finally, the cramps subside and Nenad's back in the recovery room with me.  After another hour of waking up some more, they tell me that I am ready to go to my room and that Nenad can meet me there.  Going into an elevator while laying in a bed is a strange experience.  The guy warns me every time that there is a bump and with this warning, it's not so bad.  Then, the bad part.  You want me to get into another bed?  From this bed?  Can't I just keep this one?  Apparently not.  So, I have a choice:  move myself if I can or have them roll me.  I decide that self-inflicted pain is the lesser evil and begin to move myself.  That's funny.  My legs move, my top half moves, but my butt?  It does not comply.  COME ON.  Finally, after what feels like minutes but was probably seconds, it follows the rest of me.  They all congratulate my self move, and I am pleased with myself as well.  The surgery, as well as my room, are located in the new building of Kaiser.  The room is nice, a DVD player, private, a bathroom with a shower, with a chair that folds out onto a bed for an overnight guest.  It feels like it's been an entire day, but in reality, it's only the early afternoon.  I find out that I am actually on the post-pardum floor.  I am not sure if it's coincidental, if it's because the surgery was done by an obgyn, or if it's because my incision was similar to a c-section, but it's as good of a hospital experience as I can ask for.  The nurses are extremely nice, check on me every hour during the day and every two hours during the night.  I have a morphine on demand drip that works every ten minutes, and I have a direct extension to my nurse and nurse's assistant.  

My doctor tells me that the surgery went very well, but that they did have trouble with the tube and I will probably have a sore throat for a while.  That bone spot on the top of my mouth feels raw, too.  I new that if I can't eat a toasted sandwich without scratching it, there was no way that they were going to get away without scratching it, too.  Everyone keeps reminding me to tell them when I pass gas, because I can't have solid foods until then.  Until then, I can have all the juice boxes and jello that my heart desires.  I am told that I am going to walk as soon as I can convince myself to do so because this is what's going to help.  Get up?  I can't even imagine it yet.  The pain is actually not too bad.  What hurts is trying to reposition myself.  If I could do it over, I'd have worked out my arms so I'd be like Madonna so I could pick myself up with sheer arm power.  This is all uncomfortabe, but not as bad as I imagined.  Then, it happens.  I start crying.  I start crying because I feel the pressure to feel better.  Then, I cry because I am mad that there is pressure ot be better.  Then, I cry because I feel badly that I was mad.  I can't stop crying!  Apparently, this is a normal aftereffect of anesthesia.  I did not get warned about this, and I feel terrible that I am crying so much.  My husband reassures me that even if it wasn't the medicine, that surgery is traumatic and to not worry about anyone but myself right now.  I feel better and am able to pull it together for some visits.  I had no nausea, which was surprising to them and me.  So, I had some juice.  and ice chips.  and jello.  and more juice.  Oh, man.  I rushed it too much and had to get anti-nausea medicine.  the first kind didn't work, but the second one did the trick.  I have to remember to slow it down and get through the next day just fine.

I'm able to get off of morphine by Thursday night, and I switch to Toradol, a non-narcotic pain reliever.  WORST THING!  Because my iv for morphine came out, she used one of the little spots to inject the medicine.  BURNING.  Ridiculous burning.  This is the first thing that makes me cry from pain. Who wants a pain shot if you want to cut your hand off while you get it?  This makes me determined to switch to pills asap.  I am prescribed norco, a generic form of vicodin (which is basically a mixture of a narcotic and tylenol.)  Pills burn to swallow beause of my throat, but I've learned that certain positions work better than others.  Coughing is extremely painful, but the nurse teaches me to brace myself with a pillow and spit out what comes out to clear my lungs. They put me in one of those stomach compressors, which actually helps and I am still using it.  I have to use a spirometer to deepen my breathing, and Nenad cheers on my moving to 1500.

Friday, okay.  Time for no more catheter.  I ask if it's going to hurt to remove it and she says no, but it does feel uncomfortable.  She distracts me with questions and she's right.  It doesn't hurt but it felt strange.  Honestly, after the first few hours, I ceased to notice it was there.  Now, the pressure.  I got it out at eleven and tried to use the restroom at noon.  Now, I thought it couldn't get more embarrassing than meeting the six people who were going to be staring at you naked and cutting you, then meeting ten different nurses who all come to check on your stitches and your vagina to see if you have bleeding, but it does.  It's the moment when you sit on the toilet and realize you can't pee. Then, it's the realization that you can't get up from the spot and need to be lifted.  Then, it's when the nurse makes you a diaper out of net underwear, pads, and bed covers in case you have an accident because while you didn't pee, you did manage to bleed all over the place.  I know that it's part of a healthcare professional's job, but all I wanted to do was turn around and clean it up myself.  I don't think anyone takes pleasure in having someone else clean up after them in that way.  When the head nurse comes in and tells me that usually telling people how much time they have to pee before the catheter goes back in "scares the piss out of them" she has my attention.  Within ten minutes, success!  Add having someone else having to help clean you up to the list of things that can embarrass you.  It does give you an odd look into the perspective of dignity in regards to the elderly.  It would seem like having all oyur mental capacity, dignity, and being able to go to the bathroom on your own would not be related, but they are and i now get that.

Okay, now time to accomplish a walk about.  My niece and sister comes to visit me, and nothing could have been better.  I didn't want to look sick in front of her and scare her, so I tried to get out of bed without wincing too much and it made me motivated to move a little faster.  She cheered and told me good job when I got up, and dorky as it seems, it made me smile.  When I went for my walk, she offered to hold my hand "to hold you up." She told me to take little steps and that I would get there.  Such a three year old sage!  When a nurse said hi, she'd introduce herself and tell them that she was three years old and her auntie has an operation on a booboo on her tummy.  The walking got the intestines going, and solid food was mine!  They only had a ground steak and I did not care.  My brother also came with a care package from my dad, which included my favorite avocado salad, grilled chicken, and roasted purple potatoes.  Spoiled!  My nurse this shift kept on top of my pain medication, as you have to ask for it once it's off of on demand and I was extremely grateful.  It helped keep me from having to wake Nenad up in the middle of the night and kept me sleeping.

My goal was to get checked out the next day.  My blood pressure was stable, and I lost only 50 ml of blood so my counts were all normal (they drew it the day before to check the stats.)  I wasn't bleeding anymore, they said my incision looked clean.  Bathroom with Nenad's help, check.  Getting out of bed with Nenad's help, check.  Shower with Nenad's help, check.  My release was really wrapped around Nenad's help.  While I have a lot of great family who have helped me, Nenad is an awesome husband who wakes up in the middle of the night to help me to the bathroom or just to adjust my pillow.  He would lift me out of bed even when I didn't have any strength, even though he has chronic lower back pain.  He keeps me on schedule with my meds and brought me cookies and cream ice cream with a melted snickers on top (his idea) because I had mentioned that I wanted both things in passing.  Since I've been home, I've spent two nights on the couch because the bedroom is upstairs. I went to the bathroom (finally!) with the help of Colase, good food, and patience.  Today, I took two vicodin (within my prescription), waited half an hour, and waddled my way sideways up the stairs and into the shower.  Ah, it's amazing what being clean does for your mental well being.  I did freak out last night when I saw my incision in the mirror, but I've promised Nenad to try hard not to look at it.  Talking aout it with my fiends has helped to normalize it a bit, and it reminds me that overall, I am doing pretty well.  I expect to be able to leave the house within a couple weeks, just as I planned.  My husband's only off for a few more days, so I plan on enjoying the time and practicing my squat to sit and waddle to walk.  Pretty soon, I'll be racing!  Or, at least, walking my dog Turtle again.

Lose All Sense of Fear (what are fibroids and what is a myomectomy?)

I haven't written an entry in a while.  I know;  I have been remiss.  At any rate, I have decided to write about fibroid tumors and the procedure to remove them.  This has recently become of concern to me because on my last annual exam, I was told that I myself had a fibroid.  I started to do research on them and was very frustrated that there wasn't a lot of personal information about them to be found.  So, I am going to write about my experience thus far.  While I had never heard of them before, they are apparently pretty common.  A conservative estimate says that 25% of women have fibroids, many not even knowing about it.  It's not such a concern if they don't know because luckily, they are (most likely) a non-cancerous type of muscle tumor.  

As women, we are extra lucky because we are the only ones that can get them!  They are a muscle tumor that forms inside or on the uterus.  They are either inside the uterus, in the wall of the uterus, or outside of it.  They can be stuck to the outside or they can be connectes by a stalk.  While my initial thought was that internal fibroids would be the most difficult, they tend to be the easiest kind to remove.  An outpatient procedure ("hysteroscopic myomectomy") can be done to remove them and healing is done in a couple of days. 

If the fibroid is on the outside and is small enough, it can be removed by a "laparascopic myomectomy" procedure.  They make what my doctor called "band-aid" cuts (mean they are small, about an inch) and use tools to go in through the small cuts to cut and remove the fibroid.  Healing takes place over a week or two.  

I don't fall into either of those groups, unfortunately.  I fall into the abdominal myomectomy group because my fibroid is external and too big for the band-aid cuts. How did I find out?  I was answering a couple of routine questions about cramping and cycles and was telling the nurse practitioner that I had more recently become really irregular and that cramping was sometimes extremely uncomfortable.  What was irregular for me?  Well, not long ago, I could use my cycle to set my watch.  Okay, it wasn't that exact but pretty darn close.  More recently, it was more of a two days...then two weeks of spotting pattern which quie frankly, is no pattern at all.  It wasn't unlivable, just not very nice.  It never crossed my mind that there was anything that I could do about it.  She asked if anyone had ever talked to me about fibroids.  Nope, was my reply.  She did a physical exam and there was a spot she pushed on that HURT when she put pressure.  So, she sent me for an ultrasound.  In case you were wondering, the ultrasound is not fun.  First, you have to drink 32 oz. of water to fill yourself up so they get a clear picture.  That's when they do the ultrasound over your stomach.  Then, you get the pleasure of going to the restroom and coming back for an internal ultrasound.  When they're moving the internal ultrasound around, don't be surprised when all of your thoughts turn to going to the bathroom again, despite having just gone.  All I kept thinking was, "Please don't let me pee on her.  That's the only thing that could make this worse."  A few minuts later, it's over.  A week later, she called me and confirmed that yes, there was one fibroid that they could see.  She told me that if it bothered me, to schedule an appointment with an ob/gyn.  I did this, and the intitial doctor put me on birth control to see if that could regulate the irregularity and help at all.  While it did help, it still didn't get rid of the weird pressure sensation and the uncomfortable cramps.  It also didn't get rid of all of the irregularity.  So, I scheduled another appointment.  This ob/gyn did an ultrasound in the office and noticed that the fibroid had gotten bigger.  She told me that I could still wait and see, or she could submit a request for surgery.  Almost immediately, I jumped at the chance for surgery.

Don't get me wrong.  There is hardly anything that makes me more anxious than the thought of someone cutting me open.  However, when she told me that the fibroid was bigger than my uterus (incidentally, the uterus is only about the size of a fist-go figure!), that freaked me out more.  The final straw was when she tried to physically feel it and said, "Yup there it is.  I can feel it rolling around."  Rolling around?!  Something that's not supposed to be there is big enough to be felt moving around?  Hell no.  So, abdominal myomectomy it is.  This is where they make about a four inch incision along the "bikini line" aka very, very low rise and pull your uterus out through it.  Then, they cut the fibroid off.  Hopefully, it's not too deep into the wall and they do little damage to the uterus.  Sometimes, they have to cut into it and then sew the uterus up again.  While my doctor said that she expects the surgery to be straight forward, it's surgery and there can always be complications.

One complication is the possibility that they damage the uterus or other nearby organs.  If this happens and I want kids in the future, I may be forced to have c-sections, which is another surgery and causes more stress to the uterus.  If other organs get damaged, it could cause scarring, bleeding, or send me right back to the hospital.  Some people don't react well to anesthesia and get very nauseous after surgery.  This is generally temporary and passes while you're in the recovery room, waking up.  She also explained that the intestines freeze up when they're exposed to air and touched.  This is why they don't release you from the hospital until you can pass gas!  They want to know that your digestive tract is back on track, so to speak.  

So, my surgery is tomorrow.  The description of the surgery:  I get some medication to make me sleepy, then am put under general anesthesia.  My doctor said that I get to be gracefully placed like a frog to insert a tube which will inject fluid into my uterus, so that they can see better where the fibroids are.  Then, I get to lay and hang out as the "smallest incision possible" is made to reach my uterus.  At that time, she will remove the large fibroid, as well as any others she may physically see.  If she has to cut extensively for the large fibroid, she can check internally to see if there are any fibroids there.  Then, the cuts are sewn up, as am I.  I'll be transferred into a "Recovery room" where I get to wake up more fully from the anesthesia.  With any luck, I won't get throw up sick and will wake up and be transferred into a regular hospital room and hopefully progress as expected.  

If she doesn't have to cut deeply into the uterus, as i am hoping, I will also have to have a procedure called d&c (dialte and cutterage) which involves the scraping of the uterine lining.  The lining is very resilient and will heal itelf shortly.  She recommended this because an external fibroid shouldn't be causing some of the problems I am having, which suggests that I do have small internal polyps that they can't see on an ultrasound.  I read some stories of women who went in for one or two fibroids, and they ended up discovering seven or eight.  I actually feel pretty lucky.  I have read a few stories where women had 20+.

What I am expecting after surgery:  I am expecting some pain!  I don't think anyone gets their abdomen cut into and doesn't get a bit of pain.  The first day generally involves a catheter (bummer, but at least they put it in while you're sleeping to keep your bladder empty during surgery) and a day of a morphine on demand drip.  Many people reported switching to pills within a day, and my doctor anticipated that I should be home on Friday.  She also said that because I am pretty young, that I should be able to get out of the house after a couple of weeks and should be healed in about four, though this surgery qualifies for six weeks off from work.  I am not working right now, and my husband's kindly taken a week off to help me adjust.  Our bedroom is up a flight of stairs, but my doctor said I should feel up to slowly climbing them shortly.  Everyone's healing time is different, but it's important to get moving as soon as you can stand it.  This helps to prevent pneumonia, blood clots, and helps the healing process in general.  

Unfortunately, surgery doesn't keep them from coming back, either.  Genetic predisposition and being overweight are two factors that can make you more susceptible, but there isn't a clear cut reason why some women get them and others don't.  There are some books that suggest a change of diet can control fibroids, but all medical evidence that I have read shows no clear connection.  There are also newer procedures, including a robot performing the procedure (how space age), embolization of the blood supply to the fibroid, and trials running using ultrasound waves to shrink the fibroid.  Not all of these options are available everywhere, but it doesn't hurt to ask your doctor why they're choosing one over another.  Maybe they don't have enough experience to do a laparascopic myomectomy, even though it would work for you.  In that case, perhaps there is another doctor they can refer you to within your same health program.  Some women have so many and are so close to menopause, that they may choose a hysterectomy.  Something to remember about a hysterectomy is that it will possibly require hormones for the rest of your life.  So, even if you're not interested in having children anymore, maybe a myomectomy is still a valid choice. I don't think that there is anything wrong with wanting to keep as many body parts as you can for as long as you can!

So, I hope this general description helps someone out.  I am still pretty anxious, but reading other people's stories, reading information on different websites, and talking with my doctor as well as having an awesome husband have helped put me a little more at ease.  I think it's taught me to pay attention to my body and to ask questions.  I also had foot pain which I figured was normal for my retail standing all day job.  When I finally went to the doctor, I found out that it was plantar fasciitis and went to physical therapy for two months to help correct it.  So, it turns out that i had to learn twice that sometimes, there is something you can do about it and it doesn't hurt to ask!  

Incidentally, I have Kaiser insurance through my husband's work.  I have heard horror stories of people not getting adequate care or being denied a referral.  I have to say my personal experience has been anything but that.  Every time I have needed further care, I have gotten it without a fight.  While I have been asked to take first steps (in this case, the birth control), none of the requests were unreasonable and I was met with no resistance when I felt like it didn't work.  I have been extremely satisfied.  After this, I may even attempt to conquer my allergies (who knew that not everyone is allergic to dust, right?!)  I will also update with my progress.

Some websites that I found helpful: 

http://www.myomectomy.net/  written by a doctor who specializes in uterine fibroid removal

http://www.healthywomen.org/condition/fibroids general information about fibroids

http://www.uterinefibroids.com/ a woman's personal story about her treatment journey

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/uterine-fibroids/DS00078  Mayo Clinic general information

You’re Still Young, That’s Your Fault (Opinion Piece on JD Samson’s Article in the Huffington Post)

Recently, a few of my friends have been posting a link to this article, whether because they agree or simply think it's a good start for a much-needed conversation about societal pressures to appear rich when people perceive that you're successful.  It got me thinking about this specific situation and how it's triggered thoughts of the proposed tax bill and how people view corporate responsibility.  I dabble in a bit of all of those afore-mentioned subjects, so forgive my sometimes stream of consciousness explanations.

To summarize the article, JD Samson is a musician who has had a modicum of success in the music business, but is now reflecting as to why she does not feel financially stable/safe.  She chocks it up to three factors:

"I can only guess that the answer lies in a combinations of three things: 1) my family is not rich, 2) I am a queer woman, and 3) I am trying so desperately to keep up with my peers that I am living beyond my means." 

When I first read it, I literally wrote, "even though i appreciate what she’s saying in terms of being freelance and a queer woman, i felt like she was either off the mark or didnt clearly express some points. there is nothing that she said that indicated that she wasnt rented to because shes queer. i feel like shes almost suggesting that these people that she knows that have had success all come from rich families, which may not have been her intention, and i sincerely doubt is true. in the end, i felt like she was resigning to have to condescend to those with a “9-5,” like i am ready to join your monotony because i didn’t save when i DID have the money. i guess that’s what bugs me most. it’s not that she never made what people thought she did. she didn’t save any of it when she did have it and only now appreciates the sting."

Now, the more I read it, the angrier it makes me!  First of all, the title of the article is "I Love My Job, But it Made Me Poorer."  This right here is misleading.  Your job did NOT make you poorer.  Your actions and choices, in part because of the people you surrounded yourself with and the pressure that comes with those friends, made you poorer.  Your lack of understanding in concepts like saving and planning, made you poorer.  Your willingness and I would even say eagerness to display your success in the form of designer jeans made you poorer.  This is NOT an attack on the poor.  This is not to suggest that if the poor just saved better, if the poor worked harder, they would have more.  This is far from that.  This is an acknowledgement that some people never get the chance.  This is saying that when she had her success, she was NOT poor and made poor choices, which in turn, lended itself to her current struggles.

What I think makes me angriest now is that people applaud her as being brave.  Money struggles are often a taboo subject, especially for someone who has shown some success.  However, admitting that you've squandered your money away isn't exactly a bravo moment.  How is she any braver than those who spend ten months out of the year working in another country, away from their families, just so that they can pull in a barely decent wage to support them?  I don't think she's braver than those who NEVER get the opportunity to be successful, who will never get it, and who will never be in a position to supply themselves with the skills or talent needed to be successful.  I don't even think I consider her braver than Warren Buffett, who, as an extremely rich person, has come right out and flatly said (in summation), "The percentage I pay in taxes is unfair.  Capital gains taxes never stopped people from investing."  He is seen as a "traitor" to the wealthy, when he is simply stating historical facts.  Obama is accused of class warfare for suggesting reverting taxes back to the way they once were.  I can't say I agree with Obama's tax plans in their entirety, but while admitting your mistakes and missteps may be honorable, I don't think it's brave.  Some people are complaining because there would be an extra tax on airline flights.  I think that we have to acknowledge that if we can afford airline flights, we are better off than at least 25% of our fellow Americans.  My parents are not rich.  I am not rich.  We do fly sometimes, though, and I believe in paying that tax as an acknowledgement of the fact that we're in a more privileged position to be able to take those flights and taxes are an investment in our country.  

And, I don't feel that she's taking full ownership.  She very subtly excuses herself out of a large portion of the responsibility by diverting to the facts that her family is not rich and that she's a queer woman.  She insinuates that perhaps it's because she's a queer woman that she is not rented to, when she explains in the article that she is an unstable income individual.  She insinuates that this is part of big, bad Corporate America.  What about that landlord's right to be paid on time?  What about that landlord's obligations, family, duties, bills?  Does he not have a right to choose a tenant who is going to have the check on the first of the month?  She made it seem like he was so selfish for not choosing her, like THAT is what is wrong with our system. No, what’s wrong is people biting off more than they can chew and others not only encouraging it, but also facilitating it and then betting on their failure.  This is where Corporate America does have some responsibility and has failed us as a group. I don't excuse the system.  We need to acknowledge that we are a PART of the system.

I want to fully acknowledge that as a queer woman, her perspective will always inherently be through that filter and it's an important filter.  Many minority experiences are relegated to the sidelines and they need to be given a voice.  I don't think that -this- was the instance to do so.  The issue of not saving, not being taught to save, is something that the entire generation of 20-40 somethingers are now facing.  It isn't about being a musician, an artist, or an entrepreneur. Even for our parents who were taught to save, they weren't taught that these things aren't guaranteed and many lost money in the bank fallout.  That makes everything a little scary and unstable;  this is what I find frightening. 

I also have trouble having sympathy for someone who tells me that i should have sympathy for them while they fly around in jets. They did a survey of people who make a million or more a year (I think it was on FOX) and those people don’t think of themselves as rich, heh. FOX used it as a talking point to say "Our perception of rich isn't rich anymore."  I was thinking, just because they don’t think they’re rich doesn’t make them not rich! It just means our spending goes up and we are always in want.

People are told if they work hard enough, if they believe and try enough, that they will have success and with success, money, and it’s just NOT true. I believe that people are sold the American Dream and it often fails on them and leaves them jaded and confused and in difficult situations. I just don’t think that this is HER specifically. I do feel like she -thinks- it’s her, and that’s what makes me mad.  I find this American Dream trick to be used against the poor, as well as a way to control the poor and the middle class.  It is amazing to me that some people are against reverting the taxes when they themselves are not in that bracket.  The only thing that I can figure is that they have been told or have convinced themselves that they will some day be in that bracket, so they should be against these things now so they can be against it in the future.  How brilliant!  

Where I do have some empathy is in the idea that your perception of success is often equated in monetary values.  I have friends who are entrepreneurs and are by all rights, successful within their fields of choice.  I am sure they get comments of, "You must be doing so well!" and they smile politely, with thoughts of bills and due dates in the back of their mind, bouncing around.  The success is mitigated by the need to turn around and take that money and put it right back into the business.  With the banks conglomerating, many have been turned down for loans which they would have easily received before because, perhaps unfairly, they are viewed as too high risk.  It is a vicious cycle that sometimes overruns them and causes struggles for their families and perhaps makes them question the financial sustainability of such efforts.  This is NOT what she is describing.  She isn't describing the cyclical struggle of being an artist/entrepreneur.  She's describing her own want and how it's dragged her down.  There are people with less talent, with less success, who have had to resign their dreams to hobbies and dalliances.  She never had to do that.  Only now, in this hour of more need, has she suggested to condescend to us "9-5'ers" in order to get the stability that she craves.  I just wished that she'd acknowledge that she had not taken so many personal missteps, she would have been able to have both.

Asking the Question

A word on asking a question:  it couldn’t hurt.  You can read through the advice and if you’re thinking of asking your own question, just jump in and ask!  It couldn’t hurt.  

I also owe a blog entry about circumcision, which I have not forgotten!  Coming soon, again.