Turning off the "Fire and Desire"

Thanks to being cut open, having my uterus taken out, cut into, yanked about, sewn up, replaced in my body and then having my abdomen sewn up, there’s been no grown folks’ time for me and Mr. SLS for six weeks, per the doc’s orders.

Our anniversary is approaching and we were looking forward to, um, getting back to it.

I got a call Thursday from my nurse caseworker at the infertility clinic saying they need me to retake a test now that the fibroids have been removed. I say OK, sure, and she says we’ll send the info and the prescription you’ll need in the mail.

I just got the info and prescription. I’ve had the test before but it was two years ago and I didn’t remember the details so I scanned the info as a refresher and this jumped out at me: patient must abstain for 10 days prior to the test.

I HAVE TO ABSTAIN FROM GROWN FOLKS’ TIME FOR 10 DAYS BEFORE THE TEST. AFTER ABSTAINING FOR SIX WEEKS THANKS TO THE SURGERY.

*blink*

I’m feeling some kinda way about this for realz. ::fans myself to try to cool my hot azz down::

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Chicken gizzards

I said a couple of posts ago that I saw my fibroids. Well here’s what happened and it underscores why I really like my surgeon.

As I lay on the gurney in the pre-op area the surgeon came to visit me and I said, “I want to see what you cut out of me.” He looked taken aback for a minute but when I said I wanted to see what was causing all the havoc in my body, he said, “After your surgery, tell the nurse you want to go to pathology to see them.”

After they unhooked me from everything but the IV and I had done my first walk, I mentioned going to pathology to see my fibroids to the nurse and she said, “Oh, I don’t think you can do that.”

Then an assistant somebody to the surgeon came in to check on me and I mentioned to her and she hemmed and hawed and then pretty much said I couldn’t do it.

About 10 minutes later the nurse I mentioned this to earlier comes in pushing a wheelchair and says, “Come along, we’re going to pathology! Dr. [name redacted cause it's nobody's business] called and told them to get your fibroids out because you want to see them and for us to take you down.”

I go down to pathology and they are puzzled about why I want to see this, but they show them to me and explain what they have done to them and what happens next.

They kinda looked like this, except much, much bigger. And rounder:

But then there were lots and lots of smaller ones that had been sliced up so they could examine them under the microscope and make sure they were fibroids and not cancerous cysts.

I wanted to touch them, but they were floating in formaldehyde so that was verboten.

All in all, it was a great teachable moment.

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Cereal killer

Cartoons by Andertoons

When I was growing up my mother never let us have sugary cereals such as Capt. Crunch or Boo Berry. We could eat Kellogg’s Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies and Cheerios — with fruit but no added sugar — and Life (which I *really* hated). That’s it. Don’t bother asking for anything else. Many a day I sat at the table for hours staring into a soggy bowl of cereal because I didn’t want it and you didn’t waste food in our house. (<–possibly why I am fat today. that's a tangent though…)

I still hate those cereals today. For years I couldn’t eat a cereal if it was a flake, but I also couldn’t eat sugary cereals for the most part. I also would rather starve than eat oatmeal or cream of wheat. They look like something my cats vomited up.

I’ve grown, a little, but I’m still a picky cereal eater. Mr. SLS eats stuff like shredded wheat or some flake with a date and some nuts in it that makes me want to gag while he’s crunching and munching as if it’s the best thing ever. Ew.

Anyway, my favorite cereal of all time is puffed wheat.

You cannot go wrong with a bowl of puffed wheat! Look at the nutrition facts:



It’s practically a spoonful of air. I add skim milk and berries and voila! breakfast is served.

Do you like cereal?

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I should blog more

I have plenty o’ time for it, but I’m not doing much so there isn’t much to write about here. I figured you would value quality over quantity (yes that was a sneaky compliment to my blogging content).

I have clicked around the blogosphere and various news Web sites over the past week or so and the health care debate is really hot. And crazed. I just got my hospital bill in the mail a few minutes ago and thought how lucky I am that even if we didn’t have insurance we could pay the bill out of pocket.

In fact, the various places the Web has taken me over the past week or so have shown me how very blessed I am.

What are your thoughts about some of the ideas that have been floated for overhauling the system?

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Love me in a special way — Debarge

Dear Friends and Family:

I appreciate all your well wishes and I am recovering nicely. I’ve been able to get out of the house this past week and do a few things, so I’m not bedbound.

However, when I entered the hospital on July 30, I weighed 18 pounds less than I did back in April. This is due to diet modification. That doesn’t mean I am on a diet that means I try to actively make better choices about what I put in my mouth everyday and stop eating at 8 p.m. for the most part.

I want to note that I did not move ONE STEP MORE and lost 18 pounds. That means, I was taking in too many calories. Eating too much junk. Being a glutton.

Once I am a bit better I do intend to take some more steps, several in fact, as that is the next phase of my lifestyle overhaul plan — becoming more active — but right now, I can only move slowly and in small spurts. Which means during this convalescence time I have to be even more cognizant about what I put in my mouth.

So please stop sending baked goods to this house. I don’t need them and my husband — I know he is skinny, but he has sugar issues that we have to keep an eye on — doesn’t need them either. And we are not going to eat them so your generosity is being wasted.

I know your hearts are in the right place, and frankly, in the past this would be exactly the way to make me “feel” better. But I’m trying to change and become healthier and I’ll need your help.

Yours always,

SingLikeSassy

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I love my family, new and old

The next time I complain about my crazy family remind me of all the calls, cards, letters and flowers they sent me over the past few days.

And a huge thanks and big ups to my sister-in-law (no, not Mr. SLS’ sister, I haven’t heard from her at all — no, this thanks is to his brother’s wife). She came to visit me in the hospital, checked in on me constantly and yesterday she cooked dinner and they brought it to us. I couldn’t eat much of it (not hungry) but what I did taste was delish and Mr. SLS is happy because she made his favorite dish.

I have to admit, a visit with the family sans Mr. SLS’ sister is a different experience. We all laughed and relaxed and there was no drama or headaches or arguments and the babies ran around playing and it was just…family. His sister takes a lot of energy and focus. And patience. It’s tiresome.

Bringing it back around to the positive: I feel very cared about and loved.

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Did you pass gas?

Well I’m home! It wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be, though for a bit I raged against all the needles and machines and such that were attached to me and kept me so confined and restricted that I couldn’t move and I ended up throwing up all over myself. (<–gross, I know, and you're just reading this, I had to endure it. It was disgusting. I cried. Mr. SLS and the nurse cleaned me up and woo woo woo'd me).

But they kept offering me deals — do this and we remove that. For example, we’ll take the oxygen tubes away but you have to use this breathing thingy every hour on the hour to make sure your lungs are working at capacity. I used the breathing thingy.

Then they said we’ll take these suction pressure-y band things off your legs but you have to promise to move your legs around a lot. I was doing high kicks in that bed.

Then they said, we’ll take the catheter out, but you have to go tinkle within this timeframe or we put it back. I tinkled.

Then it was, we’ll take out the IV but you have to drink fluids and keep tinkling or we put it back. Catheter, too. I drank. I tinkled.

Then they said, you can go home — soon as you pass gas. I couldn’t do it!! I didn’t have gas! I wasn’t eating! I wasn’t hungry. I had three cups of hot tea, 6 spoonfuls of clear broth and innumerable amounts of water and ice cubes but nothing that would generate gas.

So I walked. Up and down the hall. Very slowly. And hunchbacked. Leaning on Mr. SLS. Hoping to generate some movement. Nothing.

Then on Friday night as I was sleeping I dreamed that I had a big gas expulsion and I woke up. And suddenly there was all kinds of movement.

Which is good because the first thing the nurse asked when she came in was, “did you pass gas?” And I when I said yes, she was like, “Oh thank goodness, that is the best news!” Then the doc came in and asked, “did you pass gas?” And when I said yes, he said, “You can go home!” I was out of there within an hour.

I’ll share more about the experience (they let me go to pathology and see my fibroids!) in another post.

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Clean as a whistle!

So I’ve just taken the last of 28 pills to help “cleanse and flatten” my colon so it won’t be in the way during surgery tomorrow. I want to throw them up because they are huge and make my stomach hurt a bit, especially since all I could eat today was clear foods, and since there are no clear foods, I’ve had nothing to eat.

OK, I’m exaggerating, I could have jello and chicken broth, but I didn’t want that so I ate nothing and am now full to the brim with water, in which 28 horse-sized pills are floating.

But, my bag is packed, my paperwork is all laid out and, I’m ready. Everyone at work hugged me today and that just reminded me of how many really wonderful and kind people I work with.

We joked about me twittering the whole experience and I might actually post some updates to them via BlackBerry for entertainment purposes as I wait to go under anesthesia.

Well, that’s it for now. I feel a “cleansing and flattening” moment coming on so gotta go.

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