A glimmer of a place called hope

First of all, yes I wish that my glimmer of a place called hope involved Bill Clinton. Why can't he be my president again? Seriously, the current state of affairs would make me weep if I wasn't so self-absorbed with the other kind of hope.

So, I really think I'll be pregnant soon. I haven't believed that in a long time -- but today, I found my self skipping through the door after work with plans to race to the computer to post about my glimmer of hope. Of course I forgot about the three holes bored into my belly and the skipping made me whimper, fall to the floor and drink wine. But still...

Hope is a feel good, flighty thing. I really see it, it could happen, I'll get to be momma. Maybe soon.

This giddy hopefulness scares the crap out of me and will cause me to publicly roll my eyes and pooh pooh any optimistic talk of hopefulness. But, inside, I'm skipping. And it feels really good until I land on the place where they cut holes in my belly or the holes still left in my heart.

Laparoscopic cystectomy: A primer

I provided the play-by-play for a friend who gets to have this fabulous surgery done in a couple of weeks and thought I'd throw it up here in case it helps someone, anyone.

Day of surgery:
We arrived at the hospital at 7:30 for a 9:30 procedure. Waited around. Met with the anesthesiologist and talked about her part of the operation. I had a bad experience when I lost an earlier pregnancy and we talked through how it would be different. They intubate you (tube down the throat) and have to use some pretty serious drugs to keep you under. She said it often makes you sick but luckily it didn't. Next my doctor came in and we talked about what she'd do if she found endometriosis then it was show time.

They made three incisions. One at my belly button, one straight below about two inches lower and one to the left side. The pre-op nurse also marked the left side before I went into surgery to make sure they operated on the correct side! During the operation they fill your belly with gas so they can see what's going on.

Next thing I remember I was coming to in the recovery room where I stayed about an hour (mostly I was out of it). My doctor came in and told me it was all a great success and then I moved to another recovery room where my husband was allowed to come and wait with me. After about 30 minutes I got dressed and went home.

That afternoon I had a couple of really good naps and took a darvocet every 5 or so hours. I woke up once during the night and took another because I was hurting quite a bit. That day the pain was more internal but really not horrible. I could have taken twice as many pain killers as I did if that gives you any indication.

Day after:
I woke up with a terrible sore throat from the tube. I was glad we had some throat lozenges around so you might want to get some. I felt pretty good, still tired and feeling more pain in my belly. Since the incisions are where you bend, it hurts! I was very low-key watched movies, read and continued to take darvocet -- only now every 6 hours or so.

Day two:
I had more energy and only took one darvocet in the morning. I forgot to say before that I lived for ice packs! I wore sweats with an ice pack tucked in the top for days. It made it feel much better than the pain killers. Ice is good. Low key day again with a couple of naps.

Day three:
Ice packs, ice packs, ice packs. Had a lot more energy, only took one nap and went to my bosses house for dinner. I was a little spacey at times but that might have been the wine! She's a doctor and recommended ibuprofen instead of darvocet. Many studies have shown that ibuprofen is better on pain plus it takes away swelling. So you might want to take some since there will be a little swelling.


Today:
I worked from home today and didn't nap and am now exhausted. The incisions are starting to itch which I think means they are healing. No ice packs or pain meds today. Tomorrow I'll go to work -- I'll probably show up a little late and leave a little early.

Surprises:
I was told I would bleed a little after but it shouldn't be too much. I've been bleeding a lot. I called the doctor over the weekend and a lap can bring on your period. The surgery was on day 22 of my cycle and I've been bleeding pretty heavily since. Seems like adding insult to injury to me. I was also warned about pain in your shoulders -- apparently the gas can lodge under your ribs and it transfers pain to your shoulders. I had a a bit of achiness and was glad to know why. Finally, my stomach has been a bit funky -- I think the gas moves things around a bit so I'd advise small meals and nothing spicy or heavy. I never get heartburn but did from a turkey sandwich.

So, that about describes the procedure. I have to go back in two weeks for a follow-up appointment. If you have any other questions please ask. Honestly, the anticipation was worse than the procedure.

Primping for the OR -- a confession

I fear I've betrayed my sisters. I didn't actually plan this but somehow, I ended up primping before surgery.

I jumped in the shower yesterday morning since I didn't know when I'd feel up to taking one after and it all started. I shaved my legs and pummiced my heels. Then blow dried and styled my hair -- including using the flattening iron because you can't have frizzy hair in the operating room, can you?

I drew the line at perfume. I would never go that far. Plus it might mix funny with the coconut scented Kiehls lotion I slathered all over my body.

I'm so ashamed.

You'll be fine

My surgery is tomorrow and I find it really interesting that everyone who calls to wish me well utters "you'll be fine." I know I will, but they don't. Only one doctor in the crowd of well wishers -- and I actually believe her when she says "you'll be fine."

Don't get me wrong -- I'm touched by the concern and welcome the good wishes. I just find it interesting that everyone feels like they have to utter those three words.

731 days ago

Exactly two years ago today, everything I knew and believed came crashing down around me. I experienced heartache like none other and I haven't had a day when my heart didn't hurt since then. Two years ago today, a perfect little girl was born. Two years ago today, a perfect little girl died.

Two years ago was the start of the most anguishing time of my life -- a time that has a very distinct beginning and if there's an end, I don't see it.

I miss my baby.

My moment of Zen

So, I just don't think I'm a spa/massage kind of gal. Don't get me wrong, I get facials every six weeks and mani/pedis every three or four -- but doing the whole relax on demand gives me angst in my pants.

Last weekend we were in Northern California (wine country) and spent an afternoon at a spa called Osmosis. They have this thing called an enzyme bath which is basically a compost bin that you climb into and bake. It was 100 degrees outside and the bath gets to 140 or so. The nice lady digs two holes (a compost bin for two, how romantic), you climb into rice hulls and sawdust naked and then she buries you, leaves and you relax -- or something like that. The second she was out the door, I had an itch under my eye. Out from the abyss comes my hand, covered with crap, and scratches -- leaving lots of traces of other itchy stuff in its wake. She comes in a few minutes later feeds us water through a straw, wipes off my face and puts a cool cloth on my head and leaves. Swear to god, no sooner do I hear the latch catch, I'm itchy again.

In the meantime my husband says to me "isn't this relaxing? I feel like I'm floating. Do you? Are you relaxed?" I'm thinking "my face itches again, I can feel the cloth dripping down my scalp and my body feels like I'm going to melt." He then says "this feels really sensual," "Sensual?" I ask. At that moment I was thinking about Kill Bill 2 and Uma digging out of the grave. I think I still have sawdust in unmentionable places.