A new yea

Well, here we are. 2015.

Great! I made it!

Living my life in pain, physically and emotionally.

Ladies, you know when you're hormonal, and it is more than wanting to gorge on chocolate and cookies? When you're... hormonal???

Put that on 11.  Then imagine it on 12. That's me.

I'm pretty sure that I react way more extremely than other women. I just said today that I would love to find a way to be LESS in touch with my body. I don't want to know, now that I know, that these little aliens are growing in my uterus (3), along with a polyp on my ovary. Yeah, I'm a female dart board.

I'm grateful that I knew something was wrong. But, someone please tell my body to not feel it as I wait for a procedure(s) to be scheduled. Luckily, it's the holidays, so nobody is reachable. Because, life stops for the stupid lit up ball to drop for all of the folks who have been corralled in Times Square for 24 hours without a bathroom. I sure hope they were giving out Adult Diapers. Get back into life!

This is ruining my life right now. It makes me go back to some thoughts I've had earlier in my illness, that perhaps this is our bodies way of softening the blow if we do croak. I mean, when folks say "I'm so glad that he/she is not in pain anymore. He/she is in a better place. I'm happy that he/she is not suffering anymore, and neither is their family".

I get it. Shoot me in the forehead and please don't miss - because I want to be pain free, in a better place, and to have my family no longer suffer.

Seriously, though, is there a hypnotist who can hypnotize the pain from my brain? Isn't there a switch? Hubby always wants me to take advil, but I think of that as a last ditch trick. Because it is toxic. Advil side effects are FUN! And even Forbes got in on the fun!

Yep. I'll stick to my home remedies as much as I can stand.

But then, there are our families.

My husband bears a lot of weight now. He is afraid for my pain, but also how it affects my INSANITY.  It's like I'm back on Tamoxifen. This insanity was a side-effect, so I can only imagine that it's connected via the other side effect of uterine thickening as well as creepy shit growing on the walls. I mean, women go through phases of uterine changes every month, in different ways. But this is nonstop, ongoing pain. Tell me exactly how I am supposed to keep smiling and carrying on like a good, obedient woman? 

Would I actually pull a Bobbitt? Ew.

But, life is really trying. I need to be locked in a cage with some really good chocolate and sleeping pills. Because I don't know how I'll get from here to there.

Not every waking moment is painful. Just most of them. The problem, of course, other than the actual pain, is the fact that it's hard to hide. I often hide tears behind sunglasses, or I walk a bit hunched over to try and relieve some of the pressure (how that happens, I have no idea. It may be in my head, and that's fine). I try and live an anti-inflammatory life. Of course, I have to run out and get almond milk because I'm out and am literally dying for a cup of golden milk, but the cow stuff will most likely muck up the anti-inflammatory process. 

It's funny. No, not haha funny. I live my life so clean, and then the crud keeps growing in me. I know that what I'm doing is helpful, but it makes me want to surrender. Get the white flag, let's make arrangements for my memorial. I want to be cremated. I don't want a big whoop-dee-doo, and I certainly don't want a bunch of cut flowers at this party. Bring potted plants. Hey - how about exchange them at the end of the shindig? Everyone bring home a potted plant and remember that cut flowers smell like a funeral, and are a waste of cash, and are depressing. Make it a pot-luck. Cook your favorite dish. If you can't cook, bring my husband some really nice whiskey and stuff. Bring my daughter anime stuff. Order pizza - whatever. Just have a good time. It's not a talent show, or a place to say "I knew her so well" when you're just trying to get a gig from someone else who might be there. 

I get pretty cynical when I see folks dying, and others vying for the coveted handouts from the closet, or the foot stompers who don't get enough from the will (ps. I'm broke). It's like, we are waiting for you to die so we can fight over your handbags. 

Ain't nobody fighting over mine. They go to my daughter. Someday, she may want to carry them. And if not, hubby can help her ebay them and put some money away for college. 

What do we leave behind, really? We leave memories. A whiff of perfume that a long lost love wore can bring out an unscripted emotion. The block-away-doppelganger who, upon closer inspection, is actually a cross dresser, or at least, nothing like your loved one gone too soon. A snippet on the supermarket muzak that reminds us of some dumb excursion that once was shared and laughed about. Nothing at all. Nothing can remind us of everything. 

I still see my mother. She has now been gone 24 years and 5 months. I hear her. I smell her. 

Where is she when I need her??? Because she's here, but she's not taking. I only hope that she doesn't feel guilt for this disease we share.

When you're right...

Went to my ultrasound.

First of all, you have to drink enough water to make you want to piss your pants before they see you. I mean, a waiting room full of folks doing the peepee dance is pretty pathetic.

I had a major beef with them, though. I drank a crapload of liquids today, teas, water, etc. Told them so when I checked in. I drank some more water, because lord knows I did NOT want to have the scan start, and then they tell me that my bladder is not painfully full enough.

I sat there for an hour and a half.

Let me repeat myself. AN HOUR AND A HALF.

With a full bladder.

When I finally went to the desk, and there were others that were waiting longer, I asked how soon I could be seen.

"Oh, is your bladder painfully full?"

"Why yes. I'm about to pee out of my eyeballs. What is taking so long?"

"Well, you have to tell us when you're ready!"

"And, who told me that was the routine?"

"Ok, we'll see you now"

Back in the waiting room, I told another woman who had been there way longer than I. "Huh, that would have been valuable information for all of us", as she did her painful peepee dance.

Indeed.

I told the tech so as I was escorted into my get naked and into the most non-sexy gown room. She apologized. I told her that folks needed to know. NOBODY knew.

She scanned what she had to with said pee. I got to relieve myself for the rest of it. And I was less tense. DUH.

So we finally started chit-chatting. Because, when I go for diagnostic tests, I know the techs shouldn't talk about what's up. But I need them to.

After quite a bit of scanning, she said it looked like polyps. Which is good news. Because something was wrong and I knew it. And I thought it was cancer.

It still could be, technically, but rare, from what she described.

Now I know why my uterus kills me. And probably why I'm constantly craving chocolate. Though, chocolate is almost always delicious, I don't often seek it out. Until the polyps started growing, I assume. Otherwise, it was always just around period time.

Now, my choco-gluttony totally makes sense.

Naturally, since it is 2 days before Christmas, I need to call my oncologist and BEG him for the actual results. How many? How big? Are they cancer? Am I going to DIE!????

Because, at the end of the day, that is where our brains go. Once you've been chillin' with the angel of death, you're pretty comfy with the constant thought that your number is up super soon.

I have also instructed hubby to call the oncologist if I can't get an immediate answer, and say that I am having a nervous breakdown and need answers now.

I told the tech I could probably scrape it out myself, considering how much I've gone through. It'd be easy.

Ok. I'm still petrified. They have to cut more out of me.

BUT I want the pain to stop. It is crippling at times. Like, tears in my eyes crippling. Like, I want to actually die during the worst of it.

So, this is why I need answers and an appointment ASAP.

I'm glad they found it. If they said it was nothing, I would have to undergo CAT scans and crap. And I would be scared that I had been imagining it or it is something so rare and deadly that they don't know what they're looking at.

So, there's that.

Off to get another piece of chocolate. Eh. At least I have an excuse for now to be a piggy.

U to the Rus

Ok, that didn't totally make sense. But, I tried.

I'm going for my uterus scan Tuesday. Just a sonogram, so I won't be a step closer to

Though, now that I look at her, I probably would be ok with that. Except for the green skin thing.

It's actually my uterus, ovaries and kidneys,  I think.

Interestingly, my pains started again the morning of my oncology appointment. Not horrible, but something.

Then, I got my period the next day. If it only happened when my period started creeping, I'd probably write it off. But it happens every time I'm stressed, or have sex (Ewwww! Don't talk about that!), or any number of things. I'm tempted to not go. I told hubs that, but then he said when it happens again, I'm going to freak out. Which is totally true. Because I should freak out. Which is why I need to go Tuesday. Maybe it's just cysts that they need to shrink with a

or something of that nature. And if it's cancer? 

Seriously. The mind can go wild thinking of all of the horrible things that could be wrong. Ok, my mind can.

So, all I can do it try to not stress. Which is hard these days. Lots of stress in the family for a number of reasons. one is the possibilities of a ray gun and she-hulk, but there are others. And I try to be the best I can be. This too shall pass, or, we shall say goodbye to more bull in our lives. Because life is short. I want only good things. 

My daughter has been a shining example of doing your best. She's 13, granted. But her best is so much better than many folks older than her. I mean, really older. The other day I told her how interesting it was that she was a role model to someone older than she. She smiled, knowing it was true. She's such an interesting kiddo. I do not want to leave her on this planet without me, even though she has a great step dad. Also, I don't want to leave him. So, I will get scanned. And do whatever needs to be done to stay alive a while longer. 

Just had some golden milk and dried figs. Been trying to keep it light since I've had a hard time keeping weight off. I'm kind of what I think of as my maximum, though I have to remind myself that I was this weight probably at our wedding. I really got it together right after (which was only 6 or so pounds less, but at my size that's a lot), and upon diagnosis, worked hard to keep it off. That tamoxifen was a really tough contender, as was the radiation, and so my weight crept back up to my... wedding weight. Don't tell me to shut up though, because I know my body all too well. I have a harder time breathing, plus, I'm not doing anything decadent to really warrant the extra few lbs. I did have a good workout at the gym today, and I have to remind myself that I'm strong, and while it's not the goal, I do have friends who use me as a fitness example. So I guess I'm not doing bad for an old cancerous hag!  ;)

Standards

We set standards for ourselves. Our surroundings influence those standards, but we set them.

I know of folks who try to do the least amount needed to slide by in life.

Sometimes I think I set standards that are too high. I get tough on myself, and I get down on myself. But, I get excited when I get close or reach my high standards!

I feel as if I may be on the upswing. I don't know why. The physical and mental pain of recent, the stress, I have lost too much time to the selfishity (yes, I made that up) of the universe, trying to steal my good energy. So, here goes. Let's see how it works.

Oncologist appointment Tuesday. Let's see about my uterine pains (which are almost gone now, but not forgotten) and my head pains which I am pretty sure were stress driven.

I'm scared. I can't lie. I don't want tests because I don't want to hear that things are bad. But, I need to know, so I'll just ask the doc and see where that all goes. Meanwhile, I'm trying hard to not waste my life on bad energy. Because, that sucks.

Soooo, what's all this pain? Plus, Golden Milk recipe!

I have been noticing it for a while now. I get cramps in my uterus after sex. Yeah. TMI for some of you, but you should probably not read my blog if that's the case!

It's not immediate. It's the next day, usually. We keep writing it off as something else. But it's not getting better. So, of course, I head into the office of Dr. Internet.

Remember the Tamoxifen that nearly killed me off? It may cause uterine cancer. Yup. So, I'm pretty sure I'll be bombarding the oncologist with more questions than originally anticipated.

I'm thankful that I only took it for 10 months but wish I had listened to my own gut instead of fighting with my husband and staying on it for that long. I was miserable by about 4 months - as soon as my bones started hurting so badly that they made me cry at night. THAT was awful. I tried everything. But I was scared and didn't want to hear "I told you so" if I stopped and the cancer returned. I know. I wouldn't have heard it from hubby, but I may have heard it from myself. Because we are our own worst enemies in many cases, including these grey areas of health where we know how we feel and then we know we didn't go to school for this.

So, I made a new batch of turmeric paste, and enjoyed a gorgeous cup of golden milk this morning.

Boil turmeric, black pepper and water for about 10 minutes. Use a pot way bigger than you need. Stir constantly. Add water as needed.  Forget measuring, everything I read is different. You want a paste after about 10 minutes. The pepper - brings out the good stuff times 1000.

So I made a jar, and made some milk in the pan I used.

Add unsweetened almond milk, coconut oil (again, releases good stuff), some more black pepper (because, why not?) Pour into mugs and add raw honey (manuka is the queen). It is very bitter without sweetener.

So this is anti inflammatory heaven. I'm hoping it will help my uterus calm down. Because, who wants an inflamed uterus? Of course this has anti- tumor properties in it, so maybe if I drink this all day, I can defeat this. And, maybe it's just thick lining (a prequel to the cancer that I fear), and maybe it will help somehow. What if it's just a thick lining and it hurts? Do I go all Nun on my hubby and get him a gift certificate to an escort service?

I guess the weirdest part is that it is ok until about a day later. I kept thinking it was coincidence, and my hormones were so wild that it would "hit" something and start the cramps, or that it would make my body go into PMS mode. But I never had cramping like this around my cycle, regardless.

I had a bunch of ginger this morning, too. Maybe some extra krill oil will bring the inflamed offender down a bit. I hate this feeling. It makes me feel like my life is one big episode of tiptoeing around everything I do. I can't just be me anymore. I'm a science experiment. But not like the woman in

Ugh.

That is all.

Side effects? Anxiety? Fear?

Last night, I had a bit of medication, my own variety, a bit extra, and a drink.  I seem to indulge a bit more these days, possibly because I have a 13 year old, and no matter how great she is at her core, she is 13. And sometimes I have a hard time understanding her. Because at 13, I was watching my mom die, as my family (the "men") were being chronically apathetic, so I became the new mom in the house. I did everything. I cooked and cleaned and did yard work (even with a broken foot, the "men" just let everything grow over, so I hobbled out in my crutches with frighteningly dangerous lawn care items that were full of explosive gasoline, and I revved them up and tried my hardest to not fall over and chop my head off.  They probably would not have noticed, until dinner was not on the table.

My daughter, she has so much support in this house. Perhaps not at her dads, but her level of apathy toward certain things makes me wonder if she has it too good. Or that her dads house is filled with the fragrance of chronic apathy, just like mine was, and she has resigned to not pick up the slack.

She has jobs here, and does them when reminded. She gets paid. This will stop soon, as hubby and I discussed a NEW pay scale. She does it on her own, without being nudged? Extra money! Reminders? Docked. 3 reminders? She doesn't get paid. And if we have to do it, she will pay US to do her job. That will go in a special place for us to enjoy date night. We'll see how this goes, but I did not raise my child to be like her father.

Anyway, last night my head got so fuzzed out that I worried. It felt like I had an old fashioned cloth tied around my head, like the old school cartoon characters who had a toothache. I figured it was all the stuff I consumed.

Tonight - nothing. Kombucha, water, stir fried veggies and some faux-slaw (cabbage and onions in a little mayo, yum!)  So, what gives? I'm now toothache cartoon gal again.

Maybe it's anxiety, depression, endometriosis, a blood clot about to kill me - the internet is full of fun stuff! But I wonder if this is still the meds exiting the building. I did get my period today (halleloooo!) and am crampy, but this head thing makes me think I'm coming, Elizabeth!

I'm not afraid of the Angel of Death, as Ruiz suggests we should not be. And I get it. It's easier to live my life, knowing I could die now. Or now. Or now. But this fuzzy head makes me think I have to make sure all my ducks are in a row. Because who's going to take care of my ducks if they're all over the place?