Catching Up

So, I had surgery yesterday.  It’s been a long, hard couple of months and a lot of things got shelved.  Things like this blog.  Sigh.

But I have survived what, at times, I didn’t know if I could, so… time to start picking up the pieces again.

I went to the new women’s clinic and met a new doctor and she is wonderful.  She listened to my history, commiserated about how awful the biopsy was at Kaiser (where they refused to give me any pain medication or even a Valium before the procedure.)  She said that anything we needed to do, we could do it under general anesthesia.

But she said I might not even need surgery.  She put me on hormones for four weeks to try to get my endometrium to thin out enough to get a good ultrasound picture.  That meant I had to go through another ultrasound, which is stressful, but not terribly painful, at least.  And she gave me Valium (unlike Kaiser).

The new ultrasound showed polyps.  I had to schedule surgery.  The soonest I could get in was two weeks later.  The polyp continued to grow and I developed severe, constant pain from the pressure and my uterus fighting to expel the growth.

Monday this week (it feels like a decade ago) I saw a new psychiatrist about meds.  He gave me a specific daily PTSD med so I can use the Ativan and Propranalol only for emergencies.  Tuesday I talked to my therapist.  Yesterday… I had surgery.

Everything went as well as it could.

I had a panic attack being wheeled into the operating room.  I had a panic attack on the table.  My surgeon literally held both of my hands and leaned over on top of me to help me get calm and they pushed the drugs into my IV super fast.

And then I woke up.

I woke up in pain.

I only vaguely remember waking up.  I remember a lot of people around talking.  I remember my doctor’s voice telling someone it was because of the Propofol.  I remember someone holding a cell phone to my face on speaker phone and hearing my therapist’s voice.  I don’t remember what she said or what I said.  I remember dry heaving and a bag shoved into my hands.

Then I woke up a second time. (They just knocked me back out after the first round.)

The second time was much better.  I felt very drugged.  I feel like I spent 20 minutes waking up and falling asleep again, before I mostly stayed awake.

I expected to have horrible nausea and vomiting, because that’s how my body always deals with narcotics.  I expected to have PTSD.  I didn’t have either.  I felt doped, but hungry and ate some gluten free pretzels and some Vitamin Water.  The nurse kept hovering for another half an hour, then they said I could get dressed and go home.

When I got up, the nurse said something about blood, and I turned and saw that I had been lying in a pool of my own blood… Awesome.  They gave me a new pad (disposable underwear and a pad had been put on me while I was unconscious…  Disturbing.

I came home.

I’ve been discovering pot.  It’s legal here, though I’d never had any reason to look into it.  My brother did buy some for my dad when he was at the end of his life and in pain.  So I figured it might help my pain, too.  It does.

I have Tramadol to take for the pain if I need it.  I still have a patch behind my ear to help stop nausea, and some chewable pills to stop me from vomiting – I take them before I take the Tramadol – but so far I’ve not needed them.  I’ve taken a few Tylenol and a few Advil, and worn a CBD and a THC/CBD patch on each wrist and spent most of today feeling vaguely drugged up, and noticed my pupils were dilated (which made it strangely hard to focus my eyes all day.

I was expecting cramps.  I had terrible cramps after the biopsy, and they lasted for two days.  I figured having the inside of my womb scraped out like a jack-o-lantern pumpkin, then having a piece of plastic shoved into it would probably result in cramping far eclipsing what just a punch biopsy could do.  So I am, so far, pleasantly amazed.  Either pot is totally the bomb for pain control, or this isn’t as bad as the biopsy.

However, I got torn in several places from, probably, the speculum.  Sir says there was a lot of equipment going in and out through the speculum, too, and it probably got bumped or shifted a few times.  But, regardless, vaginal tears.  Those hurt.  And they hurt in a way very reminiscent of having been raped.   So… that’s… that’s a challenge.  My doctor gave me lidocaine which helps some, but the entire thing is very unpleasant to deal with.

Also, my throat is sore, and I coughed some blood this morning.  They said that is normal, it’s because of the tube they put in your throat so you don’t stop breathing during the anesthesia.  Sucking on cannabis hard candy has helped some, though it tastes kind of nasty.  I got some honey tonight and I’m trying some honey in tea.

I get my biopsy results back next week.

I’m afraid the Pap will come back with some new problem and I’ll have to go through a bunch more of this crap.  But, Sir says to stop borrowing problems from tomorrow.  Right.  Easy as that.

I’m not bleeding too badly.  I bled way way more after the biopsy.

I didn’t have any nightmares last night.  My new PTSD meds are supposed to stop nightmares – so far so good.

I have had minor flashbacks, but nothing terrible.

I’m slightly afraid that when I take myself off all of the meds and marijuana everything that isn’t expressing itself right now is going to dogpile me.

Man, my throat hurts.

And the cramps are starting.

I have to slap on a new patch.

I’ll spare you all my spelling while drugged.

Goodnight, world.

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