Tuesday, June 30, 2009
I'm hoping that my surgery tomorrow is quick and easy.
I'm thinking that no matter what, I'm going to say or do something completely embarrassing because of the anesthesia.
And I'm praying that my surgeon gets a good night's sleep, that his baby isn't fussy, and that he and his wife aren't bickering about anything. Wanting him to be well-rested, focused, alert and steady is not just for my benefit, but for the benefit of all the patients he's operating on tomorrow.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
This month, I found out that I have a tumor that needs to be removed.
I cracked my head open on my desk at work (long story, boiling down to the fact that I'm clumsy).
My husband found out that his agency is closing on June 30th and he's out of a job. He's out of work on the 30th, my surgery is the 1st. Good thing I have my own insurance!
I won't go on and bore you with the details. All of the above is enough by itself.
On a lighter (and much funnier) note, one of my friends asked me if I'm worried about the tumor being cancerous. I laughed and said I have way more important things to worry about...things like:
- **Whether I'll pee on the surgeon's hand when he takes out the catheter after surgery (at least I'll be knocked out and I won't know!).
- **If I'm going to say or do anything really embarrassing as a result of the anesthesia...typically, I ask some weird questions, cry for a few minutes, proposition whichever medical personnel happens to be standing next to me in the recovery room when I wake up, and then vomit uncontrollably for 12 hours.
- **Whether any part of the above mentioned really embarrassing anesthesia-related issues will be laughed at later by the doctors/nurses...and whether any of them will tell my spouse!
- **Whether any part of my naked body will end up on YouTube.
See, those are the big things to be concerned about. Because really, does it matter if I have cancer if a picture of my butt is on the internet?? Of course, this is all tongue-in-cheek--I'm just keeping my mood light, because there's no point in worrying too much about anything. God will be the same on July 1st as He is right now.
But, um, God? If possible, perhaps some better days can come my way? It would be much appreciated!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Or just good old fashioned falling apart.
I'm usually pretty level-headed, but it seems as though there's a force working against me lately, and I'm getting a bit...well, never mind.
So. The surgery for the "tooo-muh" is scheduled for July 1st. It's been an interesting ride so far. This went from being a simple procedure that could take place in the office, to a procedure done in the office with a local anesthetic...to an outpatient surgery at the hospital with a local anesthetic...to a regular surgery with general anesthesia.
If I felt more comfortable with profanity, I can guarantee I would be swearing enough to set some kind of record. Then I laugh to myself, because there's really no point in getting worked up over it. It is what it is.
Speaking of what is, there is an up side to all of this. Surgery is July 1st, so I'm taking off the 1st and 2nd, but then my office is closed that Friday and the following Monday for the 4th of July holiday, so that will save some of my benefit time. I'm also thinking that this bit of post-surgery-forced-relaxation could be good for me. I have no choice but to lay around and do nothing. No household chores, no running around. I can sit around and doze in the sun, read books, watch television and be a big couch potato.
This has nothing to do with anything, but I bought my husband a folding poker-table for Father's Day. I got pulled over on the way home, and I thought for sure I was going to get a ticket because of the way it was jammed into my car and obstructing my view through the back window, but the officer said he just wanted to see for himself that yes indeed, there was a woman driving through town with a 10-seater poker table. He said that my husband is one lucky dude. I agree.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
This is a bit of a "down."
The short version of this downer is this: I have a tumor in my bladder and I'm a little freaked out about it. I'm waiting on the hospital and my insurance to work out the details of the surgery that's needed to remove it. I'm hoping to know early next week when it'll be scheduled.
The history/longer version of it is this: For anyone who's read my blog for a while, you've likely seen more than a few posts where I complain/whine/gripe about the frequency with which I get UTIs and kidney infections/stones. I'd been having a good stretch with no problems for a little bit, when some routine labwork showed a few abnormalities. I had no problems or symptoms, but on a microscopic level, there was something going on. My doctor, who is getting ready to retire, had me see an associate who recently joined the practice. My first impression left a bit to be desired, but the second impression was much better. Especially when she said that she was a family practitioner and she didn't think it was within her scope of experience to manage my case and she wanted me to have the best care possible. She recommended a specialist, so off I went.
It's not important, but I would like to say that the specialist is young and quite attractive. He shall henceforth be known as the hottie doc. HD for short.
Anyway, HD saw me for a consultation and basic exam, did more labwork and other than some peculiar hematuria (blood in my urine), he couldn't find anything wrong. He recommended a minor procedure to take a look inside and see what was going on--I felt like it was a waste of time, because a CT scan hadn't shown anything, but I agreed. He said that given my history, it was likely that I either A.) had a kidney stone stuck somewhere that had never passed and may have adhered to the bladder wall or gotten stuck in one of the tubes, or B.) given the number of stones and infections I've had, it might be some irritation/inflammation or scar tissue.
My thoughts were along the lines of, "Okay, fine, whatever." He did mention in passing that it was possible, but very, very unlikely, that I could have a tumor. I raised my eyebrows at him, but he was quick to reassure me that the odds are almost statistically non-existent. For a healthy, 31 year old female, the odds were something like 0.05%.
I always have been the type of person to defy all odds.
I had the procedure done on Thursday morning and all was going well (if uncomfortably), until I heard HD murmur, "Hmmmmm." I partially sat up, laughed a little and asked him if all doctors take a class called "Scaring Patients 101: Mastering the Hmmmmm."
He asked me to lay back down, then turned the monitor my way and pointed out some healthy tissue, then moved the scope a bit to show me another area. I suddenly understood the "Hmmmm." He reminded me that the scope magnifies everything, so certainly the tumor wasn't as big as it looked, which is good, though it didn't change the fact that there is indeed a tumor there.
He did mention that he was shocked when he found it and wondered out loud who was more shocked, him or me. I told him since he got to keep his pants on, and I was the one stuck in an ugly hospital gown, I had paid my dues and earned the right to be more shocked.
There were a lot of words thrown around...transitional cells, noninvasive papillary tumor, urothelial papillary something-or-other. I asked him to skip the medical jargon and he said, "It's a tumor and I need to remove it."
I've been processing all of this, feeling alternately anxious and annoyed. I'm sure I'll feel better once there are some actual answers and not just a bunch of what-ifs and maybes.
So, that's the scoop. Not much to tell, but definitely enough by itself. Right now, my little kiddo is asking me to lay down on the couch with her to watch a movie and that sounds really good. I'll post as I know more; and of course, I'll keep posting about how I'm trying to navigate crazy-a$$ highway we call life.