And now for some introspection

When I think about my surgery sometimes, I almost start crying. Not about the hysterectomy part, which aside from the assisting doctor calling my uterus ‘cute’, I really couldn’t care too much about, as children have never been a priority in my life. But that big honkin tumor. When I think back to the picture my doctor showed me, of it laying on my belly post surgery, I feel, indescribable, and vaguely misty about it. I mentioned this to my mate, and he mentioned it may be due to frustration, which is totally plausible. I mean, one does not just wake up with a four pound tumor. That gets slipped by, by the ineptitude of years worth of doctors who missed it during my yearly exams. So yeah, I suppose frustrated is a good emotion to start with in regards to that.

I also wonder, if having it removed will change me in any way. Since I know that growths on the ovaries can really mess with your hormonal balances. What if I become more feminine without it screwing with my hormones? What if identifying as trans was just an imbalance in my hormones? I know I am no longer as overheated feeling now that I am post surgery, and my skin and hair feels greasy like a teenager’s. I am hoping the greasiness mellows out, as I cannot go through another puberty.

I know I already feel tons better, energy wise. Which makes sense as the tumor was siphoning off more and more blood as it grew ever larger. And the dark ass circles under my eyes, that I’ve had since I was a teenager, have all but disappeared. As much as I hate others being right, when they told me I’d feel like a ‘new woman’ afterwards, I think this will be the case when I finish healing.

Anyway, I have lots to process in the coming weeks.

I also will need to buy new pants for work.

This afternoon I have therapy. I kept myself up last night thinking about what I will say, as much has happened in the past month. Primarily my mate’s suicide attempt, and my surgery. Both being huge things that will require lots of unpacking.

Off to do other things before therapy.

More goals

I guess one could say that I am a goal oriented person. I don’t feel like I am, but, I do seem to set personal goals and drive myself towards achieving them. Not to brag, but this is just what I do. Like finishing college, and achieving mental stability, getting friends, getting into a gallery, et al.

My new goals have to do with health. Namely mine and my mate’s. I want to get us off blood pressure medications, which entails joining a gym (as working out at home just isn’t happening) and eating more veg vs animal protein (which wasn’t feasible before surgery as I was borderline anemic due to my growth). Also since we’re currently at 12 days booze free, the longest stint we have gone for years and years, I think this is workable. I mean, it’s not a lofty goal, but it’s an important one I feel. So, there’s that. In addition to saving up and getting my mate his hernia surgery somehow.

I also plan to grow my hair out a bit into a shaggy mullety anime type style. I think it will look nifty with my gray hair, and while it will tip me over to getting ma’amd more, it’s just something I want to do. I anticipate this to be a reality in a few months, with my hair being intermediate shaggy by the time I return to work.

Otherwise, got news back from the doctor last night. My growth was benign and had something to do with my endometriosis, which, was undiagnosed all these years, despite my asking every doctor I went to about it. So that was good news. My growth weighed a whopping 4 lbs!!! Yikes.

I spent the rest of the evening texting with a work friend, who is currently going through a bad patch in general. I tried to help where I could.

Slept well, even if I had to get up every 3 hours to take more pain meds. With weird morning dreams involving my wearing a hot pink Betty Page wig and matching latex dress and gloves, while menacing men at some club I was dancing at.

It’s not even 10 and I have already sent an email to my immediate managers explaining my FMLA paperwork, in that, the return date my doctor put down is far away, but that’s because surgery went different than expected, and I more than likely will be able to return before then, just with some restrictions. And shaggy hair.

It sounds like the other half is stirring. Off for brekkies.

It was huge

*TW* Surgery, death, icky grody body stuff talk

So I survived surgery. The proof being in that I am writing this.

I spent the days before getting the condo and myself prepped for surgery, including personal grooming, like trimming my nose hair and toenails. Part of me thought of the practical aspects, like: I won’t be able to bend over to do my toes for a while, and what will the doctors think if I have gnarly toenails. But part of me also was a bit more dramatic, thinking about how I wanted to be ‘remembered’ if I didn’t make it for some reason, and how I didn’t want to be remembered with errant nosehairs trailing outta my nostrils.

Surgery went, well, it went well, despite the surgery itself needing to be changed around, and going with worse case scenario. AKA they split me like a fish because the tumor turned out to be: Larger than anticipated, and on my ovary NOT my uterus like they thought. Which brings about the C word, so they had to be careful to remove it all in one piece. It is currently at the pathologist being analyzed, but preliminary study of it says: benign.

I recovered pretty quickly, with even the doctors being surprised at how good I looked considering ‘all they had done’.

I came home after one night in the hospital. Partially because, even with insurance, I couldn’t help but think about how much it all was costing me. Each time I ordered food, or they gave me medicine, I knew I was getting this service with a 300% markup.

Last night, after coming home, going up three flights of stairs, taking a shower, and eating dinner, I began to rethink this decision to go home. It may have been a bit premature, but, I was in it now. I only had one hysterical crying moment when the pain got to me, and I was scared the little bits of tape that are holding me together would come off and I would split open, as we struggled to get me into a comfortable position in the bed.

I slept the night through, only waking every three hours to take pain meds, which my mate dutifully set alarms for and administered, for which I was grateful. I woke with a puffy face, and the hand that had the IV in also being swollen. Both have since gone down since I have been awake, which is good.

Thus far I have consumed a late breakfast, including all meds, of yogurt, fruit n nuts, and some buckwheat honey scored at the renn faire. My main job being to get my plumbing to work like it should. I also gargled with some salt water as my throat is still sore from the breathing tube they put in during surgery. I also have a breathing apparatus I need to do breathing exercises with to help prevent pneumonia from the tube.

Yesterday I saw a picture of my growth, quietly nestled on the outside of my belly, post surgery. It was huge, and purple, and veiny. Seeing it made me want to cry for some reason. I was not expecting that reaction from myself. I am grateful I was able to get the surgery done, but my god, it was huge!

Today I am hanging out on the sofa, while the other half does work stuff in the bedroom. I have been productive in emailing the HR person first yesterday, with the FMLA paperwork my doctor filled out, responding to their email back saying that since I’ll be out so long to fill out some other paperwork, as I may get money for temporary disability. I emailed back that I may be able to return to work earlier, with restrictions, so will wait until my two week check in with my doc. That seemed acceptable. I am nothing, if not proactive.

This whole thing has a surrealness to it. I grew up with my grandmother, who helped raise me, going in for various surgeries starting from when I was very young, up until her death, when I was 19. I am used to being on the outside looking in. It’s weird to be the patient. It has made me slightly introspective.

T minus 2 days

Last day off before surgery.

As per usual, I have lots to do, especially since this is the last time I will be able bodied for a while.

I have already done the weekly shopping, and gotten online paperwork completed prior to my surgery, including talking to a preop nurse to confirm all my vital stuffs, signing legal stuff online, and contacting customer support for my missing art supply shipment.

I still need to: stretch a canvas, clean the bathroom and litterbox, wash binders for work this weekend, and other little misc stuff.

Later I go down to the gallery to watch the shows there, as apparently they are having a hard time finding people to watch the shows, which includes a memorial show for a full member. RIP.

True, I’m not exactly looking forward to driving an hour in the heat to get there in rush hour traffic, to hang out for four hours by myself, then head home to get in bed sometime after 10 pm, but, so it goes. I feel as a newish member I need to prove myself, and it was that or get assigned a spot, which I can’t do because of surgery on Monday.

Tomorrow will be rough, as there’s a bike race happening all around the museum, all day. So driving is out. With my fibroid, it’s rather difficult to walk a lot, plus it’s supposed to be in the upper 90’s. But, again, not many options as all around the museum will be blocked off. I still need to look at a map of the closures, maybe I can park somewhere close by and walk a little bit, vs a lotta bit, like if I was taking the train. *goes and checks map* Ok so I was worried for nothing. Where I park isn’t affected. One less thing to worry about.

Did the weekly shopping by myself after my mate had a series of panic attacks. He isn’t taking my upcoming surgery well. I would think I should minimize his exposure to it, but some stuff needs to be taken care of. Like pre surgery paperwork, and discussions about his needing to take my clothing, glasses, and ID with him while I am in surgery as I won’t have a room, unless they admit me. Which will depend on how the surgery goes. I’d like to shield him from this, but it’s not an option.

We’ve been doing well on the not drinking front, which even if my mate gets weird from his ADHD meds, it doesn’t get exacerbated by his then adding alcohol into the mix, so it’s just worrysome, vs flat out unbalanced behavior. Today marks a week booze free.

All that is left is pre surgery stuff the night before. I work on Sunday (surgery is on Mon at 9 am) so will need to pound water and acetametaphin all day, stop eating by 9pm, change the bedwash and bathroom towels, and set my alarm for 5:30 the next morning, so I can shower, drink Gatorade and take meds, and get to the hospital by 7 am. We still haven’t decided which car we will be taking. As apparently I am not allowed to drive myself to my own surgery. But I don’t nessecarily want to ride home in the Jeep. Well we’ll figure it out.

See you on the flip side.

Tying up loose ends

I have two days off between now, and my surgery in less than two weeks. It doesn’t seem like enough time to get everything that needs doing, done.

I ran a couple loads of laundry the other day, so clean clothing isn’t a problem for a few weeks. Including my shift dresses for while I am recovering.

I just completed the preregistration for the hospital online.

And other misc online email tidying was done.

I also finally purchased the post surgery OTC medications I will apparently need, such as stool softener+laxative, and gas-x. I guess the pain meds block you up, and with my insides being freshly stitched, well, I guess they don’t want me popping an internal stitch while pooping.

I have begun purging some things from the living area, because I feel cramped up on by my projects, and that just will not do. Seeing as how we have sworn off drinking for the foreseeable future, there is no reason to keep empty wine and beer bottles for brewing. So I have already started emptying them out of the coat closet.

Also, at some point we need to hit storage to deposit old paintings that are just hanging around taking up space. I’d like to do this, this afternoon, but the temps are supposed to get over 100 today, so that won’t be happening. As it was, it was already 90 when we were coming home from the weekly shopping at 10:30 this morning. Too hot.

Yes, this all also partially stems from the horror that two police officers came into my home and were probably secretly judging my crowded little home. Words such as hoarder, and squalor come to mind.

Tomorrow we go to faire. I just want to catch some shows and have a turkey leg. Sans cider, which will be sad, but, well, so it goes. We will be meeting a friend there with his new GF. I’m sure it will be kinda awkward.

Then I work 5 straight days, have Friday off, work a couple more days, then surgery. Which is I suppose good, as I won’t be focusing on it anymore than I already am.

I still feel like I’m racing against the clock though.

Off to tidy some more while the other half works while locked away in the bedroom.

Being “strong” doesn’t make you impervious

Yesterday was a day like any other day. I got up, I drug myself to work, I worked, and came home. Things happened during this time, much like they always do. We had weirdos in the museum again, this time 3 different weirdos, doing weirdo things like screaming profanities at passersby outside the main entrance. It was bowtie day, which I participated in. And ice cream day, which I did not participate in due to being lactose intolerant. And finally, the end of my work day culminated in gridlock on the way home for unspecified reasons, and various shenanigans of other drivers who apparently had had enough of waiting.

Early evening was ok, until it wasn’t.

For brevity’s sake, let’s just say we got into an alcohol fueled argument, which resulted in my eventually calling the cops, to which he went peacefully with them to talk things out with a doctor. Oh and scandalizing the one nosy neighbor by going out to my car, sans pants ( I did have jockies on).

He came home, after walking for two and a half hours from the local facility, never talking to a doctor, around dawn.

He called his therapist and left a message, and still has not heard back. I urged him to call the mental health place we both use, to speak with an on call therapist, but he ran out of time before he had to cloister away in the bedroom for work.

The mood is distinctly sad in the condo.

It’s taking all my willpower to do what needs doing, like a couple loads of laundry so I have clean clothing for a while as I only have three days off between now and my surgery.

I thought about leaving for good, and I may still change my mind on that. But, as the police officers pointed out, many times these things are fueled by alcohol. No more booze for either of us. Ever. It’s been a problem in the past, and is getting worse, insofar as frictions between two neuro diverse individuals. Nothing, Nada. Zip. Shit, I’ll even try AA if it becomes too hard, despite not trucking with that whole God jive.

I’m trying to look at this as a new chapter in our lives. Things change, and it’s up to us to change with them. Maybe something positive can come of this.

I used to be cuter

But don’t we all think that about ourselves? I try to use this to console myself most days, reminding myself that THIS is as good as I’m going to look or feel from here on out.

Surgery is racing towards us. 17 days to go. I am scheduled to work right up until surgery. Which is good, as I won’t worry about it as much.

After surgery, I plan to join a gym for health and vanity reasons. I’m getting older and health seems to flee away as one gets older. Plus my mate and myself have put on some covid pounds. The doctor actually went so far as to test me for diabetes pre surgery, I will hear back this coming week. Anyway, I plan to get thinner again, and since the only ways to do that are starve yourself, or get more exercise, I will opt for the exercise bit. I like food too much to do otherwise.

Not much else to report. Drama at work involving coworkers and management and the cubies that are returning to campus (some kicking and screaming) next week. I try not to pay attention to it, nor get angry that we’re holding a ‘spirit week’ to celebrate, which feature ice cream, sandwiches, and puppies, when returning to work for onsite staff over a year ago, seemed like we were being punished for being loyal.

I got to stop wearing a mask, briefly, which was nice. Unfortunately, I have resumed wearing a mask at work after watching how the W.H.O. recommended even vaccinated folks wear a mask due to a very virulent new variant spreading like wildfire. So, while everything is opening up, well, you get the point.

Just got done doing some art supply shopping so I have plenty to keep me occupied while I recuperate. Namely paints, a new paint palette, some sculpey polymer clay, and artboard canvases for smaller paintings for my show. I’m a bit nervous about my show, speaking of, as I had thought it was slated for January, but it turns out, they will be rearranging the schedule next year according to seniority. So who knows when my show will actually happen. Especially since I am low on the rungs of seniority for the gallery.

Not much else to report. Shopping was light this week as everything was price hiked for the upcoming July 4th holiday. I did however score some cheap blueberries which I will be turning into lemon blueberry jam. As I had a yen for that the other morning.

Off to get started on the things.

Something to look forward to

Have just ordered tickets for faire, after getting confirmation that my shift giveaway was accepted by management. I’ve been working lots lately, I deserve the day off, plus I get to support faire, along with the crafters who vend at the event. Which is particularly important in these times.

Started on the painting the other day. All I have left to do today is the small detail work, which will probably take just as long as the main blocking in/ painting.

I also need to do the weekly shopping. As while we received our weekly produce box, the regular incidentals like seltzer water, and meats need to be procured for the week.

I have decided to purchase a membership to ancestry dot com while I am recuperating. In part to answer some questions about my biological father, who, I have never met, and isn’t even listed on my birth certificate. After going down a virtual rabbit hole at work and discovering VA records on the site under his name. It’s all very convoluted insofar as what I know. For all I know the man who I have been given as the man who was my biological father may be a lie. But, insofar as the man who I have been told is my father, I believe he is deceased, however now I am thinking it may have been due to combat, vs wasting away from heroin. Anyway, it will give me something to do while couch bound post surgery.

I feel like all I do is talk about my surgery these days. Yesterday I contacted HR about FMLA after reading on the net that I need to give 30 days notice before I am out of work due to my surgery. Basically, it gives me 12 weeks unpaid leave if needed, while keeping my insurance benefits. So yeah, I have paperwork both myself and my doctor need to fill out then return to HR.

I feel like I am being the responsible adult about everything, preparing where I can, doing what needs doing. But still I feel like I’m just playing at being a responsible adult. Does that feeling ever go away I wonder?

Off for brekkies and to get started painting.

The minutia of days

Been working a lot lately, which is good, as money is important when you have major surgery coming up, even with insurance.

Saw the in-laws night before last to celebrate a belated father’s day. Surprised my FIL with news of my surgery. I had thought he knew because my MIL knew. But they are of an older generation, where we DON’T TALK ABOUT WOMEN’S HEALTH ISSUES. Especially with the menfolks.

Been having issues dealing with my upcoming surgery. I wish it were sooner so I didn’t have so much time to ruminate over it.

I’m as prepared as can be for it.

Been having personal, as in, between myself and my mate issues lately. I won’t go into detail. Suffice it to say, last night he informed me he thought he could stop masking in front of me, but turns out he’s wrong. Which hurt. And I informed him I would not put up with such passive aggressive shit from him.

Work has been work like. I seemingly need a vacation from people, as I am currently working under the assumption that they are all insufferably mean, shallow, and generally stupid. This is what happens working with the public for three years solid through a pandemic.

Today I have run laundry, and need to hang it up to dry now. As, while the machines were free this morning, we only had enough quarters to run a washing load, not dry it. And due to the national coin shortage, our usual source did not have any to buy this week. And poppa needed clean work pants.

Later, I shall do some pre surgery things (namely printing out instructions for pre surgery stuff, and paying the bill for my initial visit). Then I believe I will sketch out, maybe even start painting on the new painting for my latest tacky frame.

Off to deal with wet laundry.

What do you mean by that?

Yesterday had a bit of a minor shock, when a coworker friend gave me a hard time about taking two weeks off after my surgery.

I mean, they are taking parts of my insides out, along with a large growth, I think that two weeks is conservative to be quite honest. It’s not like I’ll be sunning on a beach of Cancun. I will be healing, and in pain, and in pain, and healing.

Anyway, it rather annoyed me.

Today is a day off. I managed the weekly shopping, and to find a couple more shift dresses at the store of thrifte, along with a new work backpack, as my trusty one is starting to give at the shoulderstrap. It’s a cheaper, lesser made variety than my old one, but it makes up for that by having a galaxy print on it.

When I returned home I found several emails from my doctor for new appointments for post op stuff. And a voicemail to call them about preop stuff. I guess there’s some stuff I need to drink at certain intervals, that has been proven to help with pain post op and help keep me calm preop. Whatever, it’s available through Amazon, so I’ll have my mate, who has the account, order me a two pack.

I’m trying not to freak out about this.

After I got off the phone, I went online to request the appointments off from work. When I go to my preop appointment I intend to ask how long I should expect to be out from work. Then I will take my mate’s advice and contact HR about long term absence. Since, if my coworker is any indicator, the average person apparently thinks that major surgery takes a week to get over. I’ll get a dr’s note if needed.

I find all of this exceptionally annoying.

I have one month to get things in order and create as much artwork as possible. To get the house in order for my recuperation time (we’ve already discussed getting a small TV and antenna for the bedroom). To have some fun, but overall, work, and attempt to play in between.

Post op I intend to join a gym, probably in the beginning of the new year. Since I see unhealthy people my age in the galleries all the time, and don’t want to end up that way. Without a growth in my belly, I should be able to workout like I used to, without weird pain.

I’m supposed to be working on art right now, but I have other things to take care of. Like hand washing my new bag, and the new shift dresses, as the grocery store had no quarters available for purchase for laundry. If anything, THEY were buying quarters from customers. I really wish they would just upgrade our laundry machines to take credit cards. But that does nothing for me right now. So hand washing it is.

Off to get started on that.