Recovery

I’m home again from my surgery.

All went well, according to my doctor, even though there a couple of complications.   I’m still a bit out of it from the pain meds they prescribed,  so I’ll keep any explanation for some other time.  Needless to say, all the parts that needed removal are gone, & 90% of the broken stuff has been fixed.

Suffice to say, when the doc came to my room today,  he told me that the largest majority of my pain didn’t come from an ovarian cyst, but from me having both endometriosis and adenomyosis.  Both painful in themselves, he said that when you put them together…well, he was surprised I made it through that much pain for as long as I did.

Anyway, I’m home, sore & moving slow, but I’m moving.

Here’s to hoping for a swift recovery.

It Could Be Sooner

I wish I were going in for surgery tomorrow.

Really & truly.

I have only a week left before the “big slice”, but my anxiety is already ramping up, & I can feel a panic attack coming.  I’m working on calming techniques, but, sometimes, they just don’t cut it.

The pain has gotten worse, as well. It’s driving me nuts. I have only had one day this week that I’ve been able to put in a full 8 hours at work, & it’s pissing me off.   As a single mom, it’s my job to keep the roof over our heads, pay the bills, shop the groceries.  And how do you do that, when you can’t put in a full week’s work? 

Blah, blah, blah, whine, mope.

FUCK it.

This surgery could be sooner.  It could be tomorrow, then I’d be getting it behind me that much quicker.

I’m not sure how much fight I have left.

Except the Darkness

In the deep dark of night
I feel the weight of sorrows
Pressing down
Breathing hot and horrid
On the back of my neck
I know the loss of ages
All that has passed behind
All who have left
All I have walked from
In the dark of night
I hear the keening
Of my own heart
As it breaks
Again
Into fractured pieces
I shall not weep aloud
For no one listens
Except the darkness

Bittersweet Graduation

Today my middle child graduates from college.

Oof.

21 years I’ve had this lovely girl with me, through all the joys and terrors, we’ve made it to this time and place.

And I don’t have enough of the correct words to express just how proud I am of this lovely young woman.

She has always been the most fiercely independent of my 3 children. And the most focused & determined to achieve her goals. 

She decided in high school that she wanted to be an elementary teacher, & now, 4 years later, she has done it!  She already has a couple of substitute teaching days lined up for next week, & has been looking at job possibilities for next fall.

This darling girl…. er, young lady.  I’ll have to get used to saying “lady” and “woman” when referring to my girl daughter from now on.

That’s going to be tough, especially when she’s always been my “little girl”.

She’s the one who delighted in being the little princess,  while her older sister rocked the “tomboy” moniker.  She’s told me repeatedly over the years, that she’d prefer to be 6 years old, & still my little girl.

The daughter who learned how to run in high heels before she could walk without tripping in sneakers.

The daughter who would load herself up with all the costume jewelry she could find, including her many, many tiaras, when she’d clean her room.  Often, I think, she’d fantasize herself as Cinderella when asked to do household chores.

The daughter who, even today, would prefer to spend the day hanging out with her grandmother, helping her garden, or bake, than just about anything else.

This daughter, this adorable,  ferociously funny, eminently tender-hearted, & tenaciously stubborn woman. She is my miracle girl, having survived at least 3 things that should have ended her life much too soon.  She lived, because she has a special purpose and destiny laid out before her in the coming years, I truly believe that.   Read on, & tell me I’m wrong.

1.  She survived being born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck – twice – AND the cord had a granny knot tied in it.

2.  She survived falling out of her crib at the age of 1 & 1/2, landed on her head, & suffered hairline fractures to her skull.

3.  She survived a car crash on black ice, which flipped her car upside down, crushed a good portion of the car, sprayed glass all over, & she got out with just a couple scratches & bruises.  The cops have no idea how she lived, nor how she escaped from the car, & neither does she.

My girl has a busy, but highly effective, guardian angel.

And a purpose she has not, as yet, fulfilled.  I know this, in my bones, & to my core.  She is meant to do & be someone special.

She already IS someone special.

She’s my daughter.

And I have been blessed for 21 years to be her mother.

I’m so proud of you, my darling girl.
Stand straight, look forward, & smile… for today belongs to you.

image

image

image

image

A Handful of Days

The nightmares are getting worse. The dreams more vivid.  I know it’s because of the pain meds,  but there’s nothing I can do, other than trying to suffer through.

Either I’m in pain and lose sleep because of it…

Or I take the pain meds, have nightmares, & wake in the middle of the night because of it.

I choose the nightmares.

Clones, aliens, time travel, villains, monsters, venomous snakes, horrible family arguments. 

Yeah, I’ve seen all of these behind my eyelids, lately. Vivid, so real that I’ve woken up crying or shaking,  or yanking my feet up to my chest (that was the snakes…Fucking cobras, don’t judge ).

I have only a couple weeks to go until I get the issue solved. 

Only a few more days…

Just let me get through them.

Pain and Relief

“Have I seen you before?”
“No.”
“Hmm, you look familiar.”
“Well, you’ve seen my mom…”
“And her name?”
(I answer the question)
“Ahh, yes, I know her.  Now, I hear you’re in a lot of pain. Well, that’s understandable.  I’ve looked at your test results, and you have a significant cyst on your right ovary.  We’re going to take care of that.”

Tears of relief sprang to my eyes as I heard the doctor’s words.  The first person, well, the first doctor, anyway, to believe me, to really listen to what I was saying, and the first one to tell me that, not only is my problem more serious than any of the others stated, but he was going to make sure that it didn’t bother me anymore.

I’m still in pain for now.
But not for long.
Blessed Goddess, not for long.
Thank you, Dr. H.