Much activity is taking place around the Detour household: we are pursuing adoption!
I'm shocked that this is actually happening. Since I last posted in early January, Mr. Detour abruptly announced one morning that he was ready. The previous day, we'd met with a couple who successfully adopted through a popular website (plus an attorney), rather than an agency. (They were so successful that they matched within 2 days of posting their profile. The birthmom was 8 months along, so our friends were parents within 1 month of going live.) The idea of independent adoption sat better with Mr. Detour than using an agency, and that led to his proclamation of being ready, I guess. Whatever it was, Thank You, universe. As you know, I've been ready!
We had our two home study visits in February and are now just waiting for our social worker to write up our biography. We'll be approved by the end of this month. So I'm obsessing about getting our profile written. While I worry about time-critical concerns like that, Mr. Detour obsesses about the nursery. Yes, we are decorating it now. It is absolutely beautiful so far. I will post pics when we're further along.
I'm firmly convinced that we will have our baby by the end of this year. I refuse to allow thoughts of waiting beyond that. That strategy—being recklessly optimistic— got me through infertility, so I'm going to continue with it. We have several friends who have adopted within a few months, so who's to say it won't happen for us? I won't think too much of our neighbors who waited 3 years.
*****
Now for the pain update. Not a whole lot to report, but things are definitely on the upswing. It's about half and half: around my period, for around 2 weeks, I feel really bad. But not as bad as 6 months ago—the pain isn't constant. I don't always wake up and go to sleep in pain. The other 2 weeks of my cycle, not around my period, I feel...pretty good. The pain reminds me that it's still around, waiting to strike, but it's not too bad.
So you'd expect my pain, originating from whacked-out pelvic floor muscles, to be in my pelvis, right? The worst pain now is actually in my head. Crazy. I don't fully understand it, but it has to do with pelvic nerves telling other nerves to freak out and before you know it, every nerve in my body is on fire. So my head hurting—it's not like any headache I've ever experienced, and comes from the center of my body, like my core, right under my solar plexus. It's almost like I can feel the pain coming up from the pelvic nerves to my brain. And the pain isn't the burning type of neuropathic pain I'm used to, and I have no good words to describe it. Definitely not aching. Maybe dull but with a burning component. There's just something about it that so different from non-neuropathic pain.
I can't remember if I've posted this before, but I'm allergic to TENS now. The little sticky things that attach the electrodes make me break out in a rash. Not good at all. I have a history of problems with adhesives and thought I'd snuck around it, but sneaking only worked for so long. So TENS is currently not part of my pain strategy. It really sucks and increases my reliance on meds, but I have to focus on the good: I'm getting better.
I'm no longer held hostage by pain. I can run errands without hesitation, and I take walks three times a week. About a mile or two each time!! Shocking. I've come really far.
*****
That's where I am now. Oh, and I have a big anniversary tomorrow. The day of my surgery last year, THE surgery that started this whole mess. I've felt really emotional about it, similar to other crappy anniversaries like miscarriages or due dates. What if I hadn't had the surgery? Well, duh. I wouldn't be in pain now. But there's no way I could have known. Trying to come to terms with that decision.
So, Crappy Anniversary to me. To celebrate, hubby and I are going to the beach for 5 days, leaving tomorrow morning. Hopefully it will not be gloomy and cold there and we'll actually be able to get out some. And if not, we'll have even more time to work on our profile and get it in decent shape. It's hard to sell yourself...where do you start? How do you sound sincere and not completely cheeseball?
I'm trying to keep up with the blogosphere but admit I've been a little lacking on that front. Sorry for my absence and hope you're doing well!
birds
Showing posts with label post-op recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label post-op recovery. Show all posts
Friday, March 8, 2013
Saturday, October 20, 2012
I Never Want to Be Pregnant
Under no circumstances do I want to be pregnant. I do not want to have an oopsie baby after I adopt. I do not want to have a surprise pregnancy at age 43. I do not want to do another letrozole cycle.
This does not mean I don't wish things were different with my body. That I don't wish I had another body without a pain syndrome and uterine issues. I still long to grow a round belly, feel kicks and punches from a little one inside me. The desire, the longing, is still there. But it's like wishing you hadn't broken your arm; it's broken and you have to deal with it. Maybe you have to stop playing tennis forever. Maybe the break is so bad it will affect you the rest of your life. You can spend your time wishing you weren't limited physically or you can adjust your expectations.
My decision to forever stop TTC didn't happen overnight. A few weeks after my surgery in March, even though I was still in extreme pain, I was scheduling a 3D sonogram appointment to prepare for my next letrozole cycle. I was optimistic. I didn't know this kind of pain syndrome even existed. Who has heard about pelvic floor muscles unless you've given birth or are 80 years old? I hadn't been aware of mine.
Needless to say, I had to cancel the 3D sono appointment, which was just one of the many things that has given me pause since March. If I couldn't schedule it at that point, then when? The next month? Three months from now? (Correct answer is none of the above.)
My thinking shifted gradually. I'd felt unsure about trying for pregnancy #3, anyway. Pregnancy #2 ended around 7 weeks last fall. The chromosomal testing came back normal, and my doctor thought the miscarriage was related to a structural problem with my uterus. Supposedly the structural issue was fixed by my last (catastrophic) surgery, but who really knows? Why tempt fate? Why put myself in the position to lose another baby when my heart has been shattered twice already?
As the months ticked by after the surgery, I stopped planning for my next RE appointment. I had a brand new, all-consuming shitstorm with that wasn't TTC-related: chronic pain. But in spite of that, I started living again. I ate what I wanted: suddenly, soy is ok again! Dairy is not evil! No need to go gluten/nut/coffee/sugar-free for fostering the ideal environment for baby to stick around! I didn't know what cycle day I was on. I didn't cry in the bathroom when my period arrived and then fill my grief with baked goods. Not TTCing has been one of the most freeing things in the world.
Before The Surgery to End All Surgeries, I'd had difficulty conceiving and two miscarriages, and I hated TTCing. The IF blogosphere is filled with people like me who keep trying, understandably, for their take-home baby. Chronic pain is what did me in.
I'm kind of an old pro with intermittent pelvic pain. I've had horribly painful periods since I was a teenager, which turned out to be endometriosis that was probably contributing to my infertility (huge surprise—not). But the painful periods were only for a few days a month.
The pain I have now is all the time.
I've never experienced any kind of chronic, day-to-day pain other than run-of-the mill tendinitis or other exercise-related aches. This is completely new. If I hadn't gone through infertility and loss, I'd say this is the hardest thing I've ever gone through. So it's a close third. The pain tries to shatter me. Not one aspect of my life is untouched: my relationships, my job, my sleep. My sanity.
I've used about 130 hours of sick leave for the pain since March. I missed my nephew's first birthday party and my niece's summer ballet recital. My demeanor has been irritable and prickly for the most part, even if at first I appear pleasant. A smile or pleasant conversation does not mean I'm not in pain or will not suddenly lash out at something. Or just lose track of what you're saying as I plot my next attempt at pain relief. My pain level is usually pretty high but I'm trying, trying ever so hard to pretend it doesn't exist. The irritability is usually unleashed on my husband, and when I immediately apologize and explain that my pain level is really high, he is understanding. But he doesn't deserve this.
I go to PT weekly and usually have one other doctor's appointment during the week; it's a big time-suck. At these appointments, I've asked about my prognosis, of course. My healthcare providers don't like this question because they don't know the answer. They hem and haw a bit, and say we'll have to wait and see, "ask me again in a few weeks." The two physicians I've asked are both pelvic pain specialists, and both have predicted that I would "probably" be fine with a pregnancy. That pregnancy hormones tend to have a calming influence on my syndrome.
Fine. But what about the ENTIRE REST OF MY LIFE AFTER THE PREGNANCY? Will the changes wrought by pregnancy and childbirth wreak havoc on my already fucked-up body?
The physicians haven't given me a real answer for that. My PT has given it to me straight, though. She says she's seen it both ways: some people with my issues have a pregnancy that goes ok and they feel fine afterwards, and some do not. I didn't ask her to elaborate much because I don't even want to hear about patients who have it worse afterwards; I cannot imagine their pain.
I'm not a risk-taker. Not that anyone knows statistics for outcomes of women with uterine abnormalities who have undergone surgeries and go on to develop chronic pelvic pain and then go on to have pregnancies, but I've thought a little about what kind of odds I would bet on: at what odds of worsened pain in the future would I consider getting pregnant again? What if 50% of women like me felt ok during the pregnancy and then, postpartum and beyond, felt even better than before the pregnancy? 50/50 odds. No way in hell I'd do it. What if 90% felt great afterward? Nope, still wouldn't do it.
I cannot conceive (pun intended) of a future filled with this kind of pain. It's been going on for 7 months already and I don't know how I've done it. People comment on how strong I am to have dealt with this for so long, but I don't feel strong. I just feel like myself....in severe pain. It's day-to-day living now. I try not to plan too far in advance.
If I can't find a way to decrease my pain level before I have a child, I cannot be the kind of mom I want to be. I physically could not handle the sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn; less sleep = more pain. I would be glued to the couch, not on the floor playing with my baby or walking around to soothe her at night. I couldn't take her for walks in the stroller or teach her to ride a bike. I would have trouble attending her soccer games; sitting up for a couple of hours hurts too much. Worst of all, I could not be the emotionally supportive, stable, fun type of mom I want to be. It would not be possible.
The decision not to TTC is easier knowing that adoption is a possibility. But even if adoption wasn't on the table and our remaining option was childfree living, I would have to choose childfree living over TTC. Why in the world would I choose *possibly* having severe pain the rest of my life? My (hopefully) future children would be worse off for it, my family and husband would struggle with me, and I would constantly fight the pain demon.
When I started this post, I'd intended to write even more, tell you about how in my previous incarnation, I ran a half marathon at an 8:10 min/mile pace. Now I can hardly walk a mile once a week. I'd wanted to tell you that I do still grieve for the loss of my husband's and my biological child, the little blonde boy who looks like his dad. Also, I could write for days about how you don't know until you've been there what kind of decisions you'd make when you've had pain that reaches an 8 every day, sometimes staying there for hours at a time. And it goes on for months and months, possibly years. But I've written enough for now.
For all of these reasons, I will never pursue pregnancy again. I love myself too much and won't knowingly put myself in harm's way. I want more out of life than appointments, pills, and this seemingly endless gnawing, burning pain that is trying to eat me alive.
This does not mean I don't wish things were different with my body. That I don't wish I had another body without a pain syndrome and uterine issues. I still long to grow a round belly, feel kicks and punches from a little one inside me. The desire, the longing, is still there. But it's like wishing you hadn't broken your arm; it's broken and you have to deal with it. Maybe you have to stop playing tennis forever. Maybe the break is so bad it will affect you the rest of your life. You can spend your time wishing you weren't limited physically or you can adjust your expectations.
My decision to forever stop TTC didn't happen overnight. A few weeks after my surgery in March, even though I was still in extreme pain, I was scheduling a 3D sonogram appointment to prepare for my next letrozole cycle. I was optimistic. I didn't know this kind of pain syndrome even existed. Who has heard about pelvic floor muscles unless you've given birth or are 80 years old? I hadn't been aware of mine.
Needless to say, I had to cancel the 3D sono appointment, which was just one of the many things that has given me pause since March. If I couldn't schedule it at that point, then when? The next month? Three months from now? (Correct answer is none of the above.)
My thinking shifted gradually. I'd felt unsure about trying for pregnancy #3, anyway. Pregnancy #2 ended around 7 weeks last fall. The chromosomal testing came back normal, and my doctor thought the miscarriage was related to a structural problem with my uterus. Supposedly the structural issue was fixed by my last (catastrophic) surgery, but who really knows? Why tempt fate? Why put myself in the position to lose another baby when my heart has been shattered twice already?
As the months ticked by after the surgery, I stopped planning for my next RE appointment. I had a brand new, all-consuming shitstorm with that wasn't TTC-related: chronic pain. But in spite of that, I started living again. I ate what I wanted: suddenly, soy is ok again! Dairy is not evil! No need to go gluten/nut/coffee/sugar-free for fostering the ideal environment for baby to stick around! I didn't know what cycle day I was on. I didn't cry in the bathroom when my period arrived and then fill my grief with baked goods. Not TTCing has been one of the most freeing things in the world.
Before The Surgery to End All Surgeries, I'd had difficulty conceiving and two miscarriages, and I hated TTCing. The IF blogosphere is filled with people like me who keep trying, understandably, for their take-home baby. Chronic pain is what did me in.
I'm kind of an old pro with intermittent pelvic pain. I've had horribly painful periods since I was a teenager, which turned out to be endometriosis that was probably contributing to my infertility (huge surprise—not). But the painful periods were only for a few days a month.
The pain I have now is all the time.
I've never experienced any kind of chronic, day-to-day pain other than run-of-the mill tendinitis or other exercise-related aches. This is completely new. If I hadn't gone through infertility and loss, I'd say this is the hardest thing I've ever gone through. So it's a close third. The pain tries to shatter me. Not one aspect of my life is untouched: my relationships, my job, my sleep. My sanity.
I've used about 130 hours of sick leave for the pain since March. I missed my nephew's first birthday party and my niece's summer ballet recital. My demeanor has been irritable and prickly for the most part, even if at first I appear pleasant. A smile or pleasant conversation does not mean I'm not in pain or will not suddenly lash out at something. Or just lose track of what you're saying as I plot my next attempt at pain relief. My pain level is usually pretty high but I'm trying, trying ever so hard to pretend it doesn't exist. The irritability is usually unleashed on my husband, and when I immediately apologize and explain that my pain level is really high, he is understanding. But he doesn't deserve this.
I go to PT weekly and usually have one other doctor's appointment during the week; it's a big time-suck. At these appointments, I've asked about my prognosis, of course. My healthcare providers don't like this question because they don't know the answer. They hem and haw a bit, and say we'll have to wait and see, "ask me again in a few weeks." The two physicians I've asked are both pelvic pain specialists, and both have predicted that I would "probably" be fine with a pregnancy. That pregnancy hormones tend to have a calming influence on my syndrome.
Fine. But what about the ENTIRE REST OF MY LIFE AFTER THE PREGNANCY? Will the changes wrought by pregnancy and childbirth wreak havoc on my already fucked-up body?
The physicians haven't given me a real answer for that. My PT has given it to me straight, though. She says she's seen it both ways: some people with my issues have a pregnancy that goes ok and they feel fine afterwards, and some do not. I didn't ask her to elaborate much because I don't even want to hear about patients who have it worse afterwards; I cannot imagine their pain.
I'm not a risk-taker. Not that anyone knows statistics for outcomes of women with uterine abnormalities who have undergone surgeries and go on to develop chronic pelvic pain and then go on to have pregnancies, but I've thought a little about what kind of odds I would bet on: at what odds of worsened pain in the future would I consider getting pregnant again? What if 50% of women like me felt ok during the pregnancy and then, postpartum and beyond, felt even better than before the pregnancy? 50/50 odds. No way in hell I'd do it. What if 90% felt great afterward? Nope, still wouldn't do it.
I cannot conceive (pun intended) of a future filled with this kind of pain. It's been going on for 7 months already and I don't know how I've done it. People comment on how strong I am to have dealt with this for so long, but I don't feel strong. I just feel like myself....in severe pain. It's day-to-day living now. I try not to plan too far in advance.
If I can't find a way to decrease my pain level before I have a child, I cannot be the kind of mom I want to be. I physically could not handle the sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn; less sleep = more pain. I would be glued to the couch, not on the floor playing with my baby or walking around to soothe her at night. I couldn't take her for walks in the stroller or teach her to ride a bike. I would have trouble attending her soccer games; sitting up for a couple of hours hurts too much. Worst of all, I could not be the emotionally supportive, stable, fun type of mom I want to be. It would not be possible.
The decision not to TTC is easier knowing that adoption is a possibility. But even if adoption wasn't on the table and our remaining option was childfree living, I would have to choose childfree living over TTC. Why in the world would I choose *possibly* having severe pain the rest of my life? My (hopefully) future children would be worse off for it, my family and husband would struggle with me, and I would constantly fight the pain demon.
When I started this post, I'd intended to write even more, tell you about how in my previous incarnation, I ran a half marathon at an 8:10 min/mile pace. Now I can hardly walk a mile once a week. I'd wanted to tell you that I do still grieve for the loss of my husband's and my biological child, the little blonde boy who looks like his dad. Also, I could write for days about how you don't know until you've been there what kind of decisions you'd make when you've had pain that reaches an 8 every day, sometimes staying there for hours at a time. And it goes on for months and months, possibly years. But I've written enough for now.
For all of these reasons, I will never pursue pregnancy again. I love myself too much and won't knowingly put myself in harm's way. I want more out of life than appointments, pills, and this seemingly endless gnawing, burning pain that is trying to eat me alive.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Good-bye, Pregnancy Clothes!
I got rid of them. You know, the clothes that aren't maternity per se, but have been a little too big for you for the past 5 years? The ones you know will be great for the first tri? They're gone.
Feels great to be free of them. I've been in a weird space lately: inspired by our adoption research to start nesting, which sometimes means buying stuff, and also wanting to give a ton of away. Make room for the stuff we're really gonna use.
For the record, the friend I gave my clothes to is only a size larger than I. I think being on the Pill brings me to that size, but seeing as me and Pill do not mix (HATE), I felt good about freeing those clothes to a better home. It reminds me of how Tom & Lorenzo (fashion blog) frequently say "Girl, that's not your dress. Let it be free for some other girl to buy." The 9 pairs of pants I gave away looked so awesome on my friend.
To go with the nesting and hence spending money trend, we're getting a housecleaning service. This is huge. I'd been fantasizing about having one after we had a kid or two. We'll both be working outside the home then, and it seemed like a good place to put some money for the sake of my sanity. But then this illness started ("illness" sounds more interesting than "pain episode"...and I'm just sick of writing "pain") and the house has gotten grungier and grungier. I physically can't do the cleaning, and the hubster has very different standards (read: no standards), and I don't want to get into a nagging, resentful cycle with him when I ask him to do something.
The initial cleaning is next week, just in time for a house guest who's coming in for one night, and also in time for our second meeting with our local adoption resource. They adoptive couple is coming over and giving us more info about how to get started. I have to admit, I'm having a really hard time doing anything about adoption lately and I'm hoping this meeting jump-starts me. My husband and I are halfway through a video we received from an adoption broker, but the last time we watched any of it was weeks ago. I blame the illness (pain, whatev).
I'm going to PT every week now and I think it's helping. Learned how to use a TENS unit today; it's a little device with electrodes that stick on you and stimulate your muscles. So that by stimulating them, they somehow relearn how to relax. I don't get it but it does seem to be helping. Luckily, my dad had a TENS he sent to me, so I don't have to worry about insurance covering a personal unit or not.
I started taking unsanctioned turmeric. Usually, I'm wary of supplements unless my doctor and I are both very comfortable with them, but I just up and started taking this. Turmeric is a spice often used in curried dishes, and it's thought to have anti-inflammatory (and maybe antioxidant?) properties. The amount I'm taking daily could easily be equivalent to how much I ingested daily if I ate as much Indian food as I wish I was eating, so I'm just not worried. My internet research yielded nothing alarming. My mom swears by turmeric for her arthritis, which was a huge burden before she started taking it.
I'm in a pretty good place emotionally. It's CD1, which is a blessing in my current circumstances, as weird as it is to say as a long-time TTCer. It now means that all the PMSy, crampy horribleness will be over in a few days and I *should* have a couple of weeks of relief after that, even if relief these days means only slightly less pain.
I'm optimistic, though. PT will help; it has to. And my need to hold my adopted baby is getting stronger and stronger as my pain gets more manageable, so I see us making some progress there. Hold me accountable! :)
Feels great to be free of them. I've been in a weird space lately: inspired by our adoption research to start nesting, which sometimes means buying stuff, and also wanting to give a ton of away. Make room for the stuff we're really gonna use.
For the record, the friend I gave my clothes to is only a size larger than I. I think being on the Pill brings me to that size, but seeing as me and Pill do not mix (HATE), I felt good about freeing those clothes to a better home. It reminds me of how Tom & Lorenzo (fashion blog) frequently say "Girl, that's not your dress. Let it be free for some other girl to buy." The 9 pairs of pants I gave away looked so awesome on my friend.
To go with the nesting and hence spending money trend, we're getting a housecleaning service. This is huge. I'd been fantasizing about having one after we had a kid or two. We'll both be working outside the home then, and it seemed like a good place to put some money for the sake of my sanity. But then this illness started ("illness" sounds more interesting than "pain episode"...and I'm just sick of writing "pain") and the house has gotten grungier and grungier. I physically can't do the cleaning, and the hubster has very different standards (read: no standards), and I don't want to get into a nagging, resentful cycle with him when I ask him to do something.
The initial cleaning is next week, just in time for a house guest who's coming in for one night, and also in time for our second meeting with our local adoption resource. They adoptive couple is coming over and giving us more info about how to get started. I have to admit, I'm having a really hard time doing anything about adoption lately and I'm hoping this meeting jump-starts me. My husband and I are halfway through a video we received from an adoption broker, but the last time we watched any of it was weeks ago. I blame the illness (pain, whatev).
I'm going to PT every week now and I think it's helping. Learned how to use a TENS unit today; it's a little device with electrodes that stick on you and stimulate your muscles. So that by stimulating them, they somehow relearn how to relax. I don't get it but it does seem to be helping. Luckily, my dad had a TENS he sent to me, so I don't have to worry about insurance covering a personal unit or not.
I started taking unsanctioned turmeric. Usually, I'm wary of supplements unless my doctor and I are both very comfortable with them, but I just up and started taking this. Turmeric is a spice often used in curried dishes, and it's thought to have anti-inflammatory (and maybe antioxidant?) properties. The amount I'm taking daily could easily be equivalent to how much I ingested daily if I ate as much Indian food as I wish I was eating, so I'm just not worried. My internet research yielded nothing alarming. My mom swears by turmeric for her arthritis, which was a huge burden before she started taking it.
I'm in a pretty good place emotionally. It's CD1, which is a blessing in my current circumstances, as weird as it is to say as a long-time TTCer. It now means that all the PMSy, crampy horribleness will be over in a few days and I *should* have a couple of weeks of relief after that, even if relief these days means only slightly less pain.
I'm optimistic, though. PT will help; it has to. And my need to hold my adopted baby is getting stronger and stronger as my pain gets more manageable, so I see us making some progress there. Hold me accountable! :)
Thursday, September 13, 2012
"OB Is If You're Pregnant"
Funny but true story: In the midst of my latest pain flare, angry about not receiving enough attention, I called the hospital operator to get in touch with the on-call doc. This was our conversation.
Me: Hi, I need to get in touch with the doctor on call for OB/GYN, I think. But the department I actually go to is—
Operator: Your name?
Me: Detour from Detour to Motherhood. (ok, I gave him my real name). But I'm not actually sure I need OB/GYN because—
Operator: Do you need OB or GYN? OB is if you're pregnant and GYN is if you're not.
Me: Really? I had no idea of the difference! I guess that would make me...GYN! Thanks!
I didn't actually say that last line but wanted to. The operator didn't want to know that the doctors I actually see are in the Department of Women with Screwed-up Uteri and General Pelvic Dysfunction (ok, not the real name...want to protect my location), and wasn't sure if OB/GYN was what I really needed. But thanks for the tip about OB being relevant if you're pregnant. I had no idea!
I spoke to GYN and she was indeed the correct doc for me to call. But I'm still irritated that my personal doctor wasn't more responsive during that time. And that the operator didn't let me get a word in edgewise.
*****
Had anothertorture PT session yesterday. My physical therapist is so amazing. I really hope she isn't causing flares because she's just so friendly, intelligent, and knowledgeable. And bubbly. I would totally want to be friends with her outside of PT if she didn't mind hanging out with an old fogey. She's younger, maybe late 20's.
Anyway, she tried to be gentle yesterday and so far the aftermath has been mixed. Last night was rough; in general, I've been having more problems sleeping because of the pain, and I was up a lot. Today isn't too bad...yet. Fingers crossed.
Last night I bought a cute wide-brimmed straw hat to wear on walks. I hope I get a chance to wear it before it turns into wool cap weather. Several months ago, a bunch of my coworkers started taking walks during lunchtime, and I can sometimes join them for the first 200 yards. <eye roll> I miss the time with them and am jealous they get to exercise, gossip about work, and just...bond. My job is pretty solitary and I can spend all day barely speaking to anyone. It drives me a little cray-cray...too much alone time.
In my blogging news, I'm going to take part in Stupid Stork's Manly Mondays. I love reading everyone's and am ready to spill the beans about how my husband, before we were even engaged, reacted when I told him I'd just bought a wedding dress. For $70 from TJ Maxx, incidentally. Yes, I have atrashy thrifty, bargain-hunting side and couldn't resist it, even though he and I had hardly talked at all about engagement and had only been dating for 7 months. Whee!
Almost Friday...c'mon, weekend!
Me: Hi, I need to get in touch with the doctor on call for OB/GYN, I think. But the department I actually go to is—
Operator: Your name?
Me: Detour from Detour to Motherhood. (ok, I gave him my real name). But I'm not actually sure I need OB/GYN because—
Operator: Do you need OB or GYN? OB is if you're pregnant and GYN is if you're not.
Me: Really? I had no idea of the difference! I guess that would make me...GYN! Thanks!
I didn't actually say that last line but wanted to. The operator didn't want to know that the doctors I actually see are in the Department of Women with Screwed-up Uteri and General Pelvic Dysfunction (ok, not the real name...want to protect my location), and wasn't sure if OB/GYN was what I really needed. But thanks for the tip about OB being relevant if you're pregnant. I had no idea!
I spoke to GYN and she was indeed the correct doc for me to call. But I'm still irritated that my personal doctor wasn't more responsive during that time. And that the operator didn't let me get a word in edgewise.
*****
Had another
Anyway, she tried to be gentle yesterday and so far the aftermath has been mixed. Last night was rough; in general, I've been having more problems sleeping because of the pain, and I was up a lot. Today isn't too bad...yet. Fingers crossed.
Last night I bought a cute wide-brimmed straw hat to wear on walks. I hope I get a chance to wear it before it turns into wool cap weather. Several months ago, a bunch of my coworkers started taking walks during lunchtime, and I can sometimes join them for the first 200 yards. <eye roll> I miss the time with them and am jealous they get to exercise, gossip about work, and just...bond. My job is pretty solitary and I can spend all day barely speaking to anyone. It drives me a little cray-cray...too much alone time.
In my blogging news, I'm going to take part in Stupid Stork's Manly Mondays. I love reading everyone's and am ready to spill the beans about how my husband, before we were even engaged, reacted when I told him I'd just bought a wedding dress. For $70 from TJ Maxx, incidentally. Yes, I have a
Almost Friday...c'mon, weekend!
Monday, September 10, 2012
Wherein Dr. Fourth Opinion Tells Me to Spaz Down
Had my long-awaited appointment today with Dr. Fourth Opinion today, the appointment I probably pinned way too many hopes and dreams to. I just want him to fix me; that's not too much to ask, right?
He redeemed himself from his status on my shit list and I once again think he's a good doctor. We talked a lot, a lot about long-range goals, short-range goals, what to do when I'm having a flare. His answer to that last one surprised me. He doesn't want to call him if I'm flaring. Wha?? He says these flares are normal and that I need to learn how to cope with them on my own, throwing in another reminder about anxiety management.
I wonder if he talks as much to his other patients about anxiety reduction or if he's decided I'm a stressball. I totally have a chip on my shoulder; I feel like as soon as physicians see that I'm taking Prozac and Ambien, they decide to give me The Talk, the one where they tell me (as if I've never heard of these things) that I need to be using other alternative modalities, ie, meditation. And I do practice meditation and I think I'm doing a bunch of other things to reduce my stress level, although there's room for improvement.
During my appointment today, we got into a circular discussion where he'd tell me to make sure I keep my psychiatrist in the loop and keep up those alternate therapies, and I'd somewhat miss the point and throw in a "but, how do I not freak out during a flare?" "By keeping up with these other therapies." "But what about when the flare is really bad?" Etc. And I felt a little ridiculous, but this has been my life lately. I've missed a ton of work, can barely function, and am just getting back to the point where I can reliably drive myself to and from work. I guess the point is that my case isn't that unusual. Dr. FO has seen tons of us, some of us for really long periods of time, it seems. I'm not going to die from this, even though I swear, I thought I would at some points during the last few weeks.
Oh, and as predicted, Dr. FO held his position that the Pill did not cause my flare. Interesting that he's so convinced and I'm so convinced the other way. Oh, well. It does suck that I'll have to deal with painful periods every month, instead of once every 10 weeks, but I'll take a few days of cramps over the incapacitating flares.
I wish we did still have the Pill as our means of birth control, though. Apparently I'm not a candidate for anything—my RE says that absolutely, under no circumstances should I ever get an IUD. (I concur). I don't want to do any other pills with estrogen, and Dr. FO doesn't recommend the progestin options. I guess there's always vasectomy (I'm sure as hell not going to have more surgery), but that seems so...final. A little too final for now.
So, the pain plan for now is focused on PT. My PT wants to try TENS this week, which is some kind of electrical stimulation. If it reduces my pain, I might get a unit for home use. Dr. FO also increased my Lyrica dose, so we'll see if that does anything. He tweaked some of my other meds and I'm happy with how we left things.
So. Lots more appointments in my future. PT, biweekly sessions or possibly weekly if my body can handle it. Psychiatrist for spazzing down lessons (which I had plenty of in my Alice Domar-modeled IF group therapy last year...I am schooled already). Follow-up with Dr. FO in 6 weeks. Fun-ish appointments with adoptive couples to help us make some progress in that direction.
I just remembered that I think I wrote a post a while back about a doc telling me to spaz down. I feel the need to add the disclaimer that the docs aren't using those words; Dr. FO is genuinely trying to help and exploring lots of options with me. I'm just touchy about them saying meditation etc will heal all ills. It's in the "just relax" category for me, even though I know there's truth to it in the case of my pain. I've come SO FAR in reducing my anxiety in the past year and I need lots of credit for that. Shout out to Prozac, meditating, and friends.
Whew. So that was that. Onwards with kicking pain's butt!
He redeemed himself from his status on my shit list and I once again think he's a good doctor. We talked a lot, a lot about long-range goals, short-range goals, what to do when I'm having a flare. His answer to that last one surprised me. He doesn't want to call him if I'm flaring. Wha?? He says these flares are normal and that I need to learn how to cope with them on my own, throwing in another reminder about anxiety management.
I wonder if he talks as much to his other patients about anxiety reduction or if he's decided I'm a stressball. I totally have a chip on my shoulder; I feel like as soon as physicians see that I'm taking Prozac and Ambien, they decide to give me The Talk, the one where they tell me (as if I've never heard of these things) that I need to be using other alternative modalities, ie, meditation. And I do practice meditation and I think I'm doing a bunch of other things to reduce my stress level, although there's room for improvement.
During my appointment today, we got into a circular discussion where he'd tell me to make sure I keep my psychiatrist in the loop and keep up those alternate therapies, and I'd somewhat miss the point and throw in a "but, how do I not freak out during a flare?" "By keeping up with these other therapies." "But what about when the flare is really bad?" Etc. And I felt a little ridiculous, but this has been my life lately. I've missed a ton of work, can barely function, and am just getting back to the point where I can reliably drive myself to and from work. I guess the point is that my case isn't that unusual. Dr. FO has seen tons of us, some of us for really long periods of time, it seems. I'm not going to die from this, even though I swear, I thought I would at some points during the last few weeks.
Oh, and as predicted, Dr. FO held his position that the Pill did not cause my flare. Interesting that he's so convinced and I'm so convinced the other way. Oh, well. It does suck that I'll have to deal with painful periods every month, instead of once every 10 weeks, but I'll take a few days of cramps over the incapacitating flares.
I wish we did still have the Pill as our means of birth control, though. Apparently I'm not a candidate for anything—my RE says that absolutely, under no circumstances should I ever get an IUD. (I concur). I don't want to do any other pills with estrogen, and Dr. FO doesn't recommend the progestin options. I guess there's always vasectomy (I'm sure as hell not going to have more surgery), but that seems so...final. A little too final for now.
So, the pain plan for now is focused on PT. My PT wants to try TENS this week, which is some kind of electrical stimulation. If it reduces my pain, I might get a unit for home use. Dr. FO also increased my Lyrica dose, so we'll see if that does anything. He tweaked some of my other meds and I'm happy with how we left things.
So. Lots more appointments in my future. PT, biweekly sessions or possibly weekly if my body can handle it. Psychiatrist for spazzing down lessons (which I had plenty of in my Alice Domar-modeled IF group therapy last year...I am schooled already). Follow-up with Dr. FO in 6 weeks. Fun-ish appointments with adoptive couples to help us make some progress in that direction.
I just remembered that I think I wrote a post a while back about a doc telling me to spaz down. I feel the need to add the disclaimer that the docs aren't using those words; Dr. FO is genuinely trying to help and exploring lots of options with me. I'm just touchy about them saying meditation etc will heal all ills. It's in the "just relax" category for me, even though I know there's truth to it in the case of my pain. I've come SO FAR in reducing my anxiety in the past year and I need lots of credit for that. Shout out to Prozac, meditating, and friends.
Whew. So that was that. Onwards with kicking pain's butt!
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Rejoining the Land of the Living
I think the pain flare is ending, thank God. Two weeks of barely hanging on, constantly wondering if the ER would be at least more comfortable, trying to shower regularly and maintain a full-time job...it was exhausting.
Unable to get in touch with my Dr. Fourth Opinion on Tues, I made the executive decision to stop taking the Pill. He didn't think it was causing the flare and Dr. Third Opinion hadn't thought my last Pill adventure was the cause for the last bad flare, but the flares happened with uncannily similar timing from the day I started the Pill. I'm officially done with it for now and done with their professional opinions about that matter. Hmph.
I started feeling better within a day or two of stopping the Pill, and now I feel almost back to my regular, pre-flare level of yuckiness. It feels AMAZING. I ran errands for 3 full hours yesterday and swept my front porch today and have felt the foreign sensation of actually feeling happy. Who knew my fairly high baseline pain level could feel like such a relief.
I have an appointment with Dr. Fourth Opinion tomorrow and I don't even know where to start with him. I'm disappointed in how long it takes him to get back to me, and sometimes he gets his nurse to do the call-backs, meaning I can't ask him questions. I need to know what to do when the pain is so bad I'm considering going to the ER....every day for 2 weeks straight. I need somebody on my side.
My PT was great this week, though. I couldn't make it to our session because I was laid up at home, but she facilitated communications with my doctor about how to proceed with treatment. I don't think her sessions are really to blame for the flares, after all; lots of data point to the Pill instead.
*****
After weeks of not uttering a word about adoption to my husband, I broached the topic again today. It was so nice to feel like I could talk about it again, like I have the tiny bit of leftover emotional energy to invest in the discussion. I wasn't able to think about it for weeks—just no emotion to spare.
Right before we left for the beach last month, we met with a local couple who is an excellent adoption resource. Had a terrific conversation with them and plan to talk with them some more soon. They told us they'll provide guidance on what to do next, how to proceed with research, which is exactly what we need.
*****
Worried about getting through this work week since I'm still not completely functional, but at least I have a very understanding boss and a flexible work-from-home policy. I tell my boss I'm having health issues and he doesn't ask questions...I don't really want to get into the whole dysfunctional woman parts convo with him.
Hope you guys have had a nice weekend!
Unable to get in touch with my Dr. Fourth Opinion on Tues, I made the executive decision to stop taking the Pill. He didn't think it was causing the flare and Dr. Third Opinion hadn't thought my last Pill adventure was the cause for the last bad flare, but the flares happened with uncannily similar timing from the day I started the Pill. I'm officially done with it for now and done with their professional opinions about that matter. Hmph.
I started feeling better within a day or two of stopping the Pill, and now I feel almost back to my regular, pre-flare level of yuckiness. It feels AMAZING. I ran errands for 3 full hours yesterday and swept my front porch today and have felt the foreign sensation of actually feeling happy. Who knew my fairly high baseline pain level could feel like such a relief.
I have an appointment with Dr. Fourth Opinion tomorrow and I don't even know where to start with him. I'm disappointed in how long it takes him to get back to me, and sometimes he gets his nurse to do the call-backs, meaning I can't ask him questions. I need to know what to do when the pain is so bad I'm considering going to the ER....every day for 2 weeks straight. I need somebody on my side.
My PT was great this week, though. I couldn't make it to our session because I was laid up at home, but she facilitated communications with my doctor about how to proceed with treatment. I don't think her sessions are really to blame for the flares, after all; lots of data point to the Pill instead.
*****
After weeks of not uttering a word about adoption to my husband, I broached the topic again today. It was so nice to feel like I could talk about it again, like I have the tiny bit of leftover emotional energy to invest in the discussion. I wasn't able to think about it for weeks—just no emotion to spare.
Right before we left for the beach last month, we met with a local couple who is an excellent adoption resource. Had a terrific conversation with them and plan to talk with them some more soon. They told us they'll provide guidance on what to do next, how to proceed with research, which is exactly what we need.
*****
Worried about getting through this work week since I'm still not completely functional, but at least I have a very understanding boss and a flexible work-from-home policy. I tell my boss I'm having health issues and he doesn't ask questions...I don't really want to get into the whole dysfunctional woman parts convo with him.
Hope you guys have had a nice weekend!
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Survival Mode
So, the last few days happened. It's been a horrible week. I made it into work a few hours here and there but made a big dent in my remaining sick hours.
I'm scared. The pain has been intense, baseline around 7 or 8. Climbs up to 9 frequently. Makes me want to go to the hospital to get morphine, but I know that would only be temporary and then they'd send me home again to deal with this for who knows how much longer.
My PT appointment on Wednesday aggravated everything. She assured me she wouldn't be rough, that everything she did would be gentle and non-inflammatory. But it wasn't. She is awesome—super sharp, knowledgeable, and decisive. And just fun to be around, as fun as someone who mildly tortures you can be. But she is killing me, inflaming my pain to the point where I miss days of work, and I don't know what to do. Not going to her leaves me in pain. Going to her makes the pain worse with the hope that it will speed up the healing process.
It's been hard for me to function normally, so my husband is picking up the slack. He's been putting meals together, walking the dog, etc. But it's not enough, and I feel like a brat for saying that. He picked up some extra work this morning and I was livid when he told me last night. I need him badly, need him to cook even more, buy more groceries, and start to do some cleaning. I need him here. So, we had that discussion. I hadn't realized how much I wasn't telling him what I needed.
Today I'm trying the "lying perfectly still" technique, moving as minimally as possible to not aggravate my body further. I've had mixed results with this in the past, so we'll see how it goes. (ETA: I suck at lying perfectly still. I'm doing some PT and other stretches although I'm not convinced they're always good for me.) In addition to pain both burning and dull, I'm having nausea and headaches, I think as a result of tapering off the amitriptyline. It is a great combination.
I hate being in survival mode. There is so much I want to do, even boring stuff like laundry. I don't know how to make myself better and have no idea when this will end. When I'm being unrealistic, I can fool myself into thinking I'll be drastically better tomorrow, but then I give myself a reality check. Big improvements haven't happened in ages. If I'm being honest with myself, my pain level is the same as it was the week after my surgery in March. The type of pain is a little different but who knows if one type signals healing more than another.
I'm exhausted. I had a few minutes this morning when I felt like I could write decent comments to some blogs, but that ability left me quickly.
Adding insult to injury is side effects from the Pill: acne, sore boobs, and weight gain. Or maybe the weight gain is from Lyrica. Whatever it's from, I'm not a fan. Weight is not usually an issue for me; lack of appetite is. Suddenly, I have a great appetite but no ability to exercise it off. My husband brought home 8 cupcakes last night that someone at work had given him, which does not help my situation.
I don't want to alarm you with how bad the pain is. It probably sounds like I should call my doctor or get to the ER. However, I've been going through this for a while and tried that. I've had CT scans and ultrasounds and nothing life-threatening is going on. It's just utterly miserable and they're doing all they can to fix me. The pain shouldn't be as bad as it is, but apparently I'm the freakish outlier who has to deal with it.
Send me good vibes that I at least get a shower today.
I'm scared. The pain has been intense, baseline around 7 or 8. Climbs up to 9 frequently. Makes me want to go to the hospital to get morphine, but I know that would only be temporary and then they'd send me home again to deal with this for who knows how much longer.
My PT appointment on Wednesday aggravated everything. She assured me she wouldn't be rough, that everything she did would be gentle and non-inflammatory. But it wasn't. She is awesome—super sharp, knowledgeable, and decisive. And just fun to be around, as fun as someone who mildly tortures you can be. But she is killing me, inflaming my pain to the point where I miss days of work, and I don't know what to do. Not going to her leaves me in pain. Going to her makes the pain worse with the hope that it will speed up the healing process.
It's been hard for me to function normally, so my husband is picking up the slack. He's been putting meals together, walking the dog, etc. But it's not enough, and I feel like a brat for saying that. He picked up some extra work this morning and I was livid when he told me last night. I need him badly, need him to cook even more, buy more groceries, and start to do some cleaning. I need him here. So, we had that discussion. I hadn't realized how much I wasn't telling him what I needed.
Today I'm trying the "lying perfectly still" technique, moving as minimally as possible to not aggravate my body further. I've had mixed results with this in the past, so we'll see how it goes. (ETA: I suck at lying perfectly still. I'm doing some PT and other stretches although I'm not convinced they're always good for me.) In addition to pain both burning and dull, I'm having nausea and headaches, I think as a result of tapering off the amitriptyline. It is a great combination.
I hate being in survival mode. There is so much I want to do, even boring stuff like laundry. I don't know how to make myself better and have no idea when this will end. When I'm being unrealistic, I can fool myself into thinking I'll be drastically better tomorrow, but then I give myself a reality check. Big improvements haven't happened in ages. If I'm being honest with myself, my pain level is the same as it was the week after my surgery in March. The type of pain is a little different but who knows if one type signals healing more than another.
I'm exhausted. I had a few minutes this morning when I felt like I could write decent comments to some blogs, but that ability left me quickly.
Adding insult to injury is side effects from the Pill: acne, sore boobs, and weight gain. Or maybe the weight gain is from Lyrica. Whatever it's from, I'm not a fan. Weight is not usually an issue for me; lack of appetite is. Suddenly, I have a great appetite but no ability to exercise it off. My husband brought home 8 cupcakes last night that someone at work had given him, which does not help my situation.
I don't want to alarm you with how bad the pain is. It probably sounds like I should call my doctor or get to the ER. However, I've been going through this for a while and tried that. I've had CT scans and ultrasounds and nothing life-threatening is going on. It's just utterly miserable and they're doing all they can to fix me. The pain shouldn't be as bad as it is, but apparently I'm the freakish outlier who has to deal with it.
Send me good vibes that I at least get a shower today.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Make It Stop
Consuming.
That's the word that keeps coming to mind in the past couple of days. The pain consumes me, eats me up. Not much is left behind.
Last Wednesday was the best day, pain-wise, that I've had in months. I went to PT that day and she did "skin rolling," which she said might leave me sore. I've been in agony since Friday. I'm not sure if it was the PT or some other thing that did me in. It's followed the same general 24-hour cycle it's done in the past—mornings are tolerable and afternoons I contemplate going to the ER. It's reduced me to a monosyllabic, glazed-over zombie the past few days. Worse than usual.
Sometimes it feels like a horrible stomachache and I try to pacify it with food. It's become a rather bad habit, feeding an ache that doesn't really need food. I don't know what it needs.
Right now it feels like my entire pelvis is burning, pain level about an 8. If I zone out and kinda become one with the pain, I can feel it take over my entire abdomen, burning a line through my core, out my arms, and leaving my head foggy and achy. My legs have been spared for now.
I'm forcing myself to blog because I need to get out some of my angst. The thought of composing an email to a friend or talking to a family member is overwhelming...no ability to concentrate on conversation or care about anyone else's problems.
It feels very indulgent, this hyperfocusing on myself. I know that might sound ridiculous, yeah, I can't control much about the pain. But when it goes on for 6 solid months, it feels horribly egocentric and my world feels very small.
I want to make a quick list of things I want to do when I get better, things I'm afraid I won't appreciate or take the opportunity to do once I'm able. I want to hold myself accountable. Here goes: I want to run again. I want to go to a yoga class. I want to have my little nieces and nephews over for a slumber party. I want to walk around the neighborhood. I want the pharmacist's cashiers to forget my name (ok, not a goal but a wish nonetheless).
I'm doing everything right. I'm doing my what my PT says, taking soothing baths, meditating, doing diaphragmatic breathing. It is still hard to keep the panic at bay, and I don't see how anyone could stay calm through this. It just creeps in, little voices telling me it might not get better, maybe this is the new normal. Maybe I will always be too sick to raise a child.
I haven't responded to comments from my last post—sorry. My infertility therapist is actually required by her workplace to have a certain percentage of her patients be IF patients. I don't feel betrayed or anything; she doesn't really have a choice. I'm fine with it mostly, just a little sad.
I'm taking the amitriptyline at night. The nurse recommended experimenting with taking it at dinnertime to see if that helped with drowsiness the next day, and it hasn't. I think I'm officially done with this med. I don't think it's helping and the sleepiness is horrible. I doubt multiple cups of coffee a day is helping the pain.
When I take a pain medication, I get some relief for about an hour. Tonight I took it around dinnertime and actually talked to my husband. He's been getting a lot of "don't talk to me but find something for us to eat" the past few days.
I'm scared. When I feel the pain in new places, when the pain in my core seems to reach up through my chest and into my jaw and teeth, it's hard not to worry.
That's the word that keeps coming to mind in the past couple of days. The pain consumes me, eats me up. Not much is left behind.
Last Wednesday was the best day, pain-wise, that I've had in months. I went to PT that day and she did "skin rolling," which she said might leave me sore. I've been in agony since Friday. I'm not sure if it was the PT or some other thing that did me in. It's followed the same general 24-hour cycle it's done in the past—mornings are tolerable and afternoons I contemplate going to the ER. It's reduced me to a monosyllabic, glazed-over zombie the past few days. Worse than usual.
Sometimes it feels like a horrible stomachache and I try to pacify it with food. It's become a rather bad habit, feeding an ache that doesn't really need food. I don't know what it needs.
Right now it feels like my entire pelvis is burning, pain level about an 8. If I zone out and kinda become one with the pain, I can feel it take over my entire abdomen, burning a line through my core, out my arms, and leaving my head foggy and achy. My legs have been spared for now.
I'm forcing myself to blog because I need to get out some of my angst. The thought of composing an email to a friend or talking to a family member is overwhelming...no ability to concentrate on conversation or care about anyone else's problems.
It feels very indulgent, this hyperfocusing on myself. I know that might sound ridiculous, yeah, I can't control much about the pain. But when it goes on for 6 solid months, it feels horribly egocentric and my world feels very small.
I want to make a quick list of things I want to do when I get better, things I'm afraid I won't appreciate or take the opportunity to do once I'm able. I want to hold myself accountable. Here goes: I want to run again. I want to go to a yoga class. I want to have my little nieces and nephews over for a slumber party. I want to walk around the neighborhood. I want the pharmacist's cashiers to forget my name (ok, not a goal but a wish nonetheless).
I'm doing everything right. I'm doing my what my PT says, taking soothing baths, meditating, doing diaphragmatic breathing. It is still hard to keep the panic at bay, and I don't see how anyone could stay calm through this. It just creeps in, little voices telling me it might not get better, maybe this is the new normal. Maybe I will always be too sick to raise a child.
I haven't responded to comments from my last post—sorry. My infertility therapist is actually required by her workplace to have a certain percentage of her patients be IF patients. I don't feel betrayed or anything; she doesn't really have a choice. I'm fine with it mostly, just a little sad.
I'm taking the amitriptyline at night. The nurse recommended experimenting with taking it at dinnertime to see if that helped with drowsiness the next day, and it hasn't. I think I'm officially done with this med. I don't think it's helping and the sleepiness is horrible. I doubt multiple cups of coffee a day is helping the pain.
When I take a pain medication, I get some relief for about an hour. Tonight I took it around dinnertime and actually talked to my husband. He's been getting a lot of "don't talk to me but find something for us to eat" the past few days.
I'm scared. When I feel the pain in new places, when the pain in my core seems to reach up through my chest and into my jaw and teeth, it's hard not to worry.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Somnolence, A Break-up, and Books
Y'all, I'm sleepy.
Side note: I consciously made myself write "y'all" instead of "you guys" or some other y'all alternative. My non-Southern college friends cultivated the "y'all" out of me (I'm Southern) but I'm trying to get it back. I just like the way it sounds.
Back to being sleepy. The amitriptyline (trycyclic antidepressant) is kicking my butt. I am SO, so drowsy all the time, but not actually tired. I don't yawn and can't fall asleep before my normal bedtime. But when my alarm goes off in the morning, the struggle to stay alert begins. And it is a fight.
I'm trying to get in touch with my doctor to see if there's a different med I can try. I don't know if the amitriptyline is even helping, so maybe he'll just wean me off of it.
*****
My therapist is dumping me. She tried to soften the blow by saying we'd slowly see each other less over time, that she wasn't making a clean break. And all the usual "it's not you, it's me" stuff. Since she specializes in patients seeking infertility treatment, I'm no longer in her wheelhouse. I think she's required to primarily see infertility patients. It makes me a little sadder than I expected. She's really helped me through all of this.
However, my psychiatrist will not be dumping me. She specializes in pregnancy and women who are nursing, but she has room in her practice for a two-time pregnancy FAIL survivor. I've been seeing her for medication management, and maybe I'll transition to seeing her for talk therapy, too.
*****
In the past year, I've read several books that are memoirs of infertiles or novels with strong infertility/loss/adoption currents throughout, and some stand out as my favorites. I'm not too coherent now and am never literary enough to write a proper review, so I'll just list 'em.
It turns out that you need to be awake to do almost anything. Work, drive, blog. I'm up to three or four cups of coffee a day and it barely touches my sleepiness. Ugh. I am reading your blogs and would comment if I could formulate thoughts. I promise to be a better bloggie friend.
Have a nice weekend!
Side note: I consciously made myself write "y'all" instead of "you guys" or some other y'all alternative. My non-Southern college friends cultivated the "y'all" out of me (I'm Southern) but I'm trying to get it back. I just like the way it sounds.
Back to being sleepy. The amitriptyline (trycyclic antidepressant) is kicking my butt. I am SO, so drowsy all the time, but not actually tired. I don't yawn and can't fall asleep before my normal bedtime. But when my alarm goes off in the morning, the struggle to stay alert begins. And it is a fight.
I'm trying to get in touch with my doctor to see if there's a different med I can try. I don't know if the amitriptyline is even helping, so maybe he'll just wean me off of it.
*****
My therapist is dumping me. She tried to soften the blow by saying we'd slowly see each other less over time, that she wasn't making a clean break. And all the usual "it's not you, it's me" stuff. Since she specializes in patients seeking infertility treatment, I'm no longer in her wheelhouse. I think she's required to primarily see infertility patients. It makes me a little sadder than I expected. She's really helped me through all of this.
However, my psychiatrist will not be dumping me. She specializes in pregnancy and women who are nursing, but she has room in her practice for a two-time pregnancy FAIL survivor. I've been seeing her for medication management, and maybe I'll transition to seeing her for talk therapy, too.
*****
In the past year, I've read several books that are memoirs of infertiles or novels with strong infertility/loss/adoption currents throughout, and some stand out as my favorites. I'm not too coherent now and am never literary enough to write a proper review, so I'll just list 'em.
- Life from Scratch by Melissa Ford. Ok, this is not a book about infertility, but Melissa Ford is the web hostess of the largest network of infertiles around: Stirrup Queens. Her novel is excellent and many passages are simply beautiful, ones I would have highlighted if I'd known how to on my Kindle.
- The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards. I strongly recommend this to women feeling like no one can relate to their loss. Edwards explores loss so thoughtfully and she really, truly gets it.
- State of Wonder by Ann Patchett. Patchett is one of my faves. She wrote Bel Canto, and while I couldn't decide what I thought about that one, her others have knocked my socks off. Like Bel Canto, State of Wonder has slowly building suspense. The settings are so vivid that I felt them, saw them, and smelled them. The infertility theme in this is subtle at first, but keep reading and you won't regret it.
- Run by Ann Patchett. Two brothers in this novel are adopted, which is an important aspect of the book. I love Ann Patchett for passages like this: The ache in his ankle was like an angry conversation coming from another room, something persistent, irritated, abstracted, something you should get up and take care of but for whatever reason you don't. I connected strongly with that.
- The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett. I'm on an Ann Patchett kick, can you tell? This novel is about a woman who goes to a home for unwed mothers in the 1960's.
- Good Eggs: A Memoir by Phoebe Potts. I picked this up for a couple of bucks at Border's when they were going out of business (sad). When I got home with it and opened it for the first time, I realized it wasn't a book in the conventional sense. Instead of text, Potts uses cartoons to tell her infertility story. She drew me in right away and her personality, wit, and ability to convey emotions. Loved it.
- Waiting for Daisy by Peggy Orenstein. Another infertility memoir and her story is beautifully told. Loved it, too.
It turns out that you need to be awake to do almost anything. Work, drive, blog. I'm up to three or four cups of coffee a day and it barely touches my sleepiness. Ugh. I am reading your blogs and would comment if I could formulate thoughts. I promise to be a better bloggie friend.
Have a nice weekend!
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Hey...I've Been Here Before
At my infertility support group last year, the therapist had us write down some of our negative thoughts (eg, "Everyone around me is pregnant") and use cognitive restructuring on them (eg, not everyone around you is pregnant—your 60-year-old coworker isn't pregnant). I'm realizing that I'm in exactly the same place I was a year ago, except instead of infertility dominating my thoughts, it's pain. Both have a lot of unknowns, an almost complete lack of control, and a loss of faith in your body. And lots of negative thoughts.
Overgeneralization
Then (whilst TTC): "Everyone around me is pregnant."
Now (with pain): "Everyone around me can work out."
Wishful thinking (I think I made this one up)
Then: "If I try doing a handstand afterward I'll get pregnant!"
Now: "If I lie perfectly still for a week the pain will go away!"
Personalization
Then: "I didn't get pregnant last month because I ate a conventionally grown strawberry/struck the wrong yoga pose/drank a sip of coffee."
Now: "I screwed up my recovery by getting the mail/walking the dog/pulling a weed."
Fortune telling:
Then: "This cycle will be a bust because I only have one follicle."
Now: "The new physical therapist won't tell me anything new or helpful."
Catastrophizing
Then: "This will never end."
Now: "This will never end."
So, in terms of personal growth, at least I realize I'm having the exact same kinds of thoughts? Heh.
*****
One of the downsides of not being TTC is not knowing with laserlike precision when my period will come. I mean, I know on my Outlook calendar where I marked CD1 for my last period, but I don't know when I ovulated. I do know I'm well into PMS territory. I think my pain is picking up in preparation for Aunt Flo, making me even grumpier than usual.
I'm trying a monophasic Pill after this period arrives. When I took a triphasic one a few months ago, I got really weepy with all the pain, so I'm not too hopeful that this hormonal experiment will work.
The super fun experiment with my moods will most likely occur when I'm at the beach next week with my family. Lucky them!
*****
I wrote the above post last week—I'm at the beach now, which explains why I haven't been blogging and commenting. I'm also trying to get ready for a trip for work the day after I get back.
I won't start the Pill until we're back from the beach so my family is being spared the mood swings. Or at least they are being spared the Pill-related mood swings...they're all my own right now. And Pain's. Everyone is at the beach this morning except me. I'm hanging out at the beach house on CD2, with AF cramps added to my regularly-scheduled abdominal pain. Good times. Being here in pain beats being at work in pain, at least.
When I get back and work slows down a bit, I'll tell you about the adoption information session we attended. And about my great new physical therapist.
I just realized that my post title also reflects how yet again, my period has come in all its painful glory while I'm on vacation. Thanks for screwing up another vacation, period!
Overgeneralization
Then (whilst TTC): "Everyone around me is pregnant."
Now (with pain): "Everyone around me can work out."
Wishful thinking (I think I made this one up)
Then: "If I try doing a handstand afterward I'll get pregnant!"
Now: "If I lie perfectly still for a week the pain will go away!"
Personalization
Then: "I didn't get pregnant last month because I ate a conventionally grown strawberry/struck the wrong yoga pose/drank a sip of coffee."
Now: "I screwed up my recovery by getting the mail/walking the dog/pulling a weed."
Fortune telling:
Then: "This cycle will be a bust because I only have one follicle."
Now: "The new physical therapist won't tell me anything new or helpful."
Catastrophizing
Then: "This will never end."
Now: "This will never end."
So, in terms of personal growth, at least I realize I'm having the exact same kinds of thoughts? Heh.
*****
One of the downsides of not being TTC is not knowing with laserlike precision when my period will come. I mean, I know on my Outlook calendar where I marked CD1 for my last period, but I don't know when I ovulated. I do know I'm well into PMS territory. I think my pain is picking up in preparation for Aunt Flo, making me even grumpier than usual.
I'm trying a monophasic Pill after this period arrives. When I took a triphasic one a few months ago, I got really weepy with all the pain, so I'm not too hopeful that this hormonal experiment will work.
The super fun experiment with my moods will most likely occur when I'm at the beach next week with my family. Lucky them!
*****
I wrote the above post last week—I'm at the beach now, which explains why I haven't been blogging and commenting. I'm also trying to get ready for a trip for work the day after I get back.
I won't start the Pill until we're back from the beach so my family is being spared the mood swings. Or at least they are being spared the Pill-related mood swings...they're all my own right now. And Pain's. Everyone is at the beach this morning except me. I'm hanging out at the beach house on CD2, with AF cramps added to my regularly-scheduled abdominal pain. Good times. Being here in pain beats being at work in pain, at least.
When I get back and work slows down a bit, I'll tell you about the adoption information session we attended. And about my great new physical therapist.
I just realized that my post title also reflects how yet again, my period has come in all its painful glory while I'm on vacation. Thanks for screwing up another vacation, period!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Prediction: I Will Have Pain Tomorrow
After my surgery on 3/9, which I just realized was the ninth time my uterus had undergone an invasive procedure, I was optimistic. In severe pain, yes, but certain that my pain would get better tomorrow. Or after the balloon was removed. Or by my next period.
I've been at this long enough to realize that tomorrow is not the day that everything will suddenly improve. I will be in pain tomorrow. It might be less than today's, or more, but it will be there.
The ever-optimistic part of me gets faked out every morning, though, because I always feel best then. Following is a typical weekend day. I experimented a bit with Paint so you'll have to endure my attempts at artwork. I realize it looks like a 5-year-old drew it.
7 a.m.: Wake up feeling pretty good. All I need is some coffee and I'll be raring to go! I will do productive things like cleaning the floor and washing the dog!! (had not figured out how to draw thought bubbles yet)
10 a.m.: I will not be cleaning the floor.
noon: ...or washing the dog. The afternoon is looking bleak, at least for me. The dog is happy. And on the upside, I suddenly grew hair.
3 p.m.: My pain meds are completely inadequate. Lie around listlessly and complain to my husband. You can imagine what the stick figure would look like.
6 p.m.: Dinner and meds revive me somewhat.
10 p.m.: Severe pain. Must go to sleep to escape for a few hours.
That's pretty much every day. Well, at least weekend days—a stick person sitting at a desk was too difficult to draw.
The pain has changed locations a lot; it's tricksy like that. At first the worst area was burning below my ribcage. Then it became a dull pain lower in my abdomen, and now my entire lower abdomen is on fire. Lately the burning pain has been so severe that I feel it in the center of my body, where it radiates to weird places, like my lips. They'll feel like they're pulsating.
This probably sounds very depressing, and it is sometimes. But I'm ok. I've found ways to block out the pain and get on with my life. I'm not always successful, and when it's bad, I step back a bit and take a breather.
I don't want to end on a sad note....how about those Olympics? So excited that track and field starts today. I love watching swimming but I love running even more.
I've been at this long enough to realize that tomorrow is not the day that everything will suddenly improve. I will be in pain tomorrow. It might be less than today's, or more, but it will be there.
The ever-optimistic part of me gets faked out every morning, though, because I always feel best then. Following is a typical weekend day. I experimented a bit with Paint so you'll have to endure my attempts at artwork. I realize it looks like a 5-year-old drew it.
7 a.m.: Wake up feeling pretty good. All I need is some coffee and I'll be raring to go! I will do productive things like cleaning the floor and washing the dog!! (had not figured out how to draw thought bubbles yet)
10 a.m.: I will not be cleaning the floor.
noon: ...or washing the dog. The afternoon is looking bleak, at least for me. The dog is happy. And on the upside, I suddenly grew hair.
3 p.m.: My pain meds are completely inadequate. Lie around listlessly and complain to my husband. You can imagine what the stick figure would look like.
6 p.m.: Dinner and meds revive me somewhat.
10 p.m.: Severe pain. Must go to sleep to escape for a few hours.
That's pretty much every day. Well, at least weekend days—a stick person sitting at a desk was too difficult to draw.
The pain has changed locations a lot; it's tricksy like that. At first the worst area was burning below my ribcage. Then it became a dull pain lower in my abdomen, and now my entire lower abdomen is on fire. Lately the burning pain has been so severe that I feel it in the center of my body, where it radiates to weird places, like my lips. They'll feel like they're pulsating.
This probably sounds very depressing, and it is sometimes. But I'm ok. I've found ways to block out the pain and get on with my life. I'm not always successful, and when it's bad, I step back a bit and take a breather.
I don't want to end on a sad note....how about those Olympics? So excited that track and field starts today. I love watching swimming but I love running even more.
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