Hello...My Name is....

Pain...

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I met pain today.

Oh, I’ve met it before to be sure…much of it recently.

Today was PAIN.

Pure, primal, soul deep, dark, roiling, bone scraping, grab you by the collar, teeth rattling, if you think… move…breathe…I WILL kill you…unadulterated…PAIN.

And, all I could do was lay flat, still, jaw clamped unthinking through the vortex until it spat me out the other side tired, sore and wondering WTF.

Before THIS pain, I only thought I knew what pain meant. I am left humbled before that pain and respectful of those who endure it over a long haul.

The Chinese have a saying that pain is weakness leaving your body…must be one helluva lot of weakness living in there.

Tomorrow’s another day.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

It dropped in for another round this morning…not as long, nor quite as hard, nor so deep…just a reminder I suppose that some weakness remains.

We'll try again tomorrow, 

More Thoughts from the Other Side of the Knife...

WARNING: TMI to follow…if yer not interested my current fascination with the workings…or in this case…NOT workings…of my body parts…stop reading now.
That having been said; one should not abuse a perfectly good and innocent cup of coffee in such a way, but I was in pain, so I did and it worked. And, I felt like my two year old “in-training” Grand Daughter, wondering “Hello…so I made in the potty… now, where’s my prize?”


OK…so, in a way, I got my prize; but you know what I mean.


Hey…I warned you.


I also have a not so pretty red rash, finally receding hives and the what remains of an irritating itch caused by an ALLERGIC REACTION TO THE EFFEN PERCOCET!!!


(No, Herr Doktor….Morphine doesn’t work and the patient is allergic to Percoset. What’s left?” OY)


Which is why yesterday, while not the worst day in the world, was also not the greatest day...going cold turkey off the stuff and all. Yowzers, Bat Man.

During the whole deal, the crazy thought would casually flit across my mind that maybe…just maybe…I could take one or ½ of one…just to get me through the rough patches, yanno, cuz they DID work as pain killers.


Somebunny, slap me….the stuff gives me hives and makes me itch…even my blinkin’ eyelids itched…am I nuckin’ futz?


Imagine, if you will, that I was really hooked on those things. (after 3 days, prolly, not, but my mind went there anyway.) What then? “Please, Handyman….just one?” You can use your imagination for the rest.


Sheez, lew-eeze.


So…it’s strictly ibuprofen for the duration.


Sneezing.


Welll…I hope not do to THAT again for a number of weeks. Nor coughing unexpectedly, neither, thank you very much. OUCH!!!!


Laughing.


OK...it hurts some…but, it also feels good. Does that make me masochistic???


What ever.


Laughing’s good.


Walking straight up and down is good.


Sitting more or less upright is good.


Sleeping on my side is very good.


Food is getting better. Fruit is wonderful. And, the chocolate someone from TN sent me is MAH-VEL-US!!!! (said in a high pitched sing-song voice)


So, all in all, and given the alternative…Life’s not so terribly terrible.


And, it could always definitely be worse.

Notes from the Other Side of the Knife...

1. Staples are stoopid sutures...they hurt and Doctors shouldn't do them. (That or they should HAVE them and then they wouldn't DO them.)

2. Morphine doesn't always work. (Atavan, howsumever, keeps you from stroking out when the morphine doesn't work, your blood pressure shoots up and you get all twisted out of your sheets about it.) Just ask me.

3. Percocet does...but it makes me itch.

4. Hospital food isn't...food, that is. I don't know what is IS. But, food...it's not.

5. The staff was wonderful...all the way to the lady who came in and cheerfully...really...mopped my floor every morning.

6. I don't want to be a recovery room nurse. If I said out loud what was going through my head when she asked me a) Mrs. xxxx? What is your name. (George Washington, of course) b) Mrs. xxx? What is your birthday? (Yesterday) c) Mrs. xxx? Do you know why you are here? (Don't YOU?)  d) Mrs. xxx...you need to breathe (No...I think I can probably not.) See what I mean? I don't know that I DID say what was in my head, but, I'd take money that there are people who do.

7. It is apparently unusual to pee 2 litres worth of liquid in the magic hat in the toilet bowl over night. I'f I had known that I'm sure I could have arranged to put some of it on the floor where I thought it was going any way. I mean, really, I walked in there under my own steam and without rining the bell. You'd think I could pee as much as I wanted.

8. Passing gas at will is not one of my gifts. Right now I wish it was. Ugh.

9. The Doc and his Resident (female) were cool...I actually like them...my purple hair didn't bug them and they thought my "fight like a girl" tee shirt and sock monkey jammy pants were alright.

10. I'm grateful for my life...my family...my friends...my Handyman...especially my Handyman...Thank You....I did not do this alone.

Today's Program...

is brought to you by the letter "S".

"S" is for surgeon whose hands will remove that fat, festering toad squatting in my southern hemisphere.

All prep is done...liquids drunk, Fleet's fleeted, hairs tipped in power points of brilliant Eggplant purple and all that jazz.

Here's to you Doctor, sir, to the return of health to this aging frame, to the man who shares my heart, to the friends and family who love me...

to...

Life.

Uterus Cakes....

Really....my son sent me this link this morning. Couldn't decide at first if it was an "ewwwwww" moment or an I wish I'd thought of that when I was having my "Farewell to Josie's Uterus" ta-kill-ya shots.

Uterus Cakes (click link)

OK...so actually eating it might be a mite..uhm..weird...

But...

Then again...

Very weirdly apropos, neh?

Eat the cancer that eats you?

OK...Maybe not.

Pain Killers, Heating Pads and Stock in Kimberly-Clark

My friends, the first two and wishing I had the last.

If I thought I had to deal with this much longer, I'm not sure I would.

That's not meant to be arrogant or funny or dark humor...I have a much clearer picture of why some folks opt out and a sincere respect for those women (and men) who deal with cancer and it's attendant issues over the long haul.

Immawuss and freely admit so...waiting for the pain meds to kick in as I was wrapped around the heating pad was interminable...I found myself thinking I would vote for legalization of marijuana for medical use inna heartbeat. Maybe California isn't completely whacked after all.

Who'da ever thunk a person would welcome going under the knife to have body parts purposely ripped out?

Only 5 more sleeps.

Sorry this is not one of my "stand and deliver" posts...how arrogant wuz that anywayz? Last night sucked.

Today's another day...I'll find my Qi and punch the lights out of that fat toady bastard festering in my lower parts.

And...the Winner Is...

May I have the envelope, please?


Literally.


It came in an envelope.


"We are pleased"...blah, blah..."assist you with"...more blah, blah..."please call us for the particulars".


What ever hue grateful is....color me that.

Meeting Liz…

The Universe delights itself in reminding me what a schmuck I can be…it must…I give it ample opportunity.

Having a momentary “feel sorry for me” moment after filling out yet another huge pile of “please pick me” paper work and lamenting on how hard it is to ask for help, the diminutive, bubbly sprite before me says “I know…I’ve been where you are.”

Looking at this petite imp with a personality as buoyant as a brightly colored helium balloon, I give what I know must be a “sure…what do you know” look.

Then she tells me what she knows…and I am truly humbled.

At 40 she is an 8 ½ year widow. Not quite 32 when she was left with 2 boys to raise…2 and 6 when their dad died…with no skill beyond being a full time mom and wife as they had married just out of high school.

Liz…petite, perky, beautiful little Liz…has gone back to school, gotten a degree, continued to raise her sons and…as if that is not enough for the Universe…has survived Uterine Cancer while she was at it.

(I am woman…hear me roar)

We speak then as comrades in arms…sharing secrets only those who are widowed know…secrets survivors know.

Survivors…survivors, by god.

We talk some more.

In the end she thanks ME for the opportunity to talk, what a pleasure it is to meet me and how much she hopes they can find a sponsor because I need to survive, too. For my kids, my grand, my mom…for my Handyman.

(Dammit woman…don’t make me cry.)

Cheez lew-eeze.

Here’s to Liz…to her spirit…her spunk…and the lesson she taught me yesterday.

To Liz...

Long may her Qi shine.