Ohai Gaiz
Ohai gaiz, long time no yammer!
I feel like it's been forever since I've posted, and I keep wanting to. But lately I've just been too tired/depressed/hurty to bother. I'll hop on LJ, read some stuff, want to comment, and... it's just too much effort. Sad that that's the truth, but I knew that this was coming. Yesterday evening was rough, one of those nights where you just feel helpless. Everything hurts, even on top of the painkiller. The painkiller that isn't working makes you feel sleepy and loopy, so you can't really function well enough to do anything to take your mind off it. Exhaustion just sort of pools in your body, and you want so much to get up and do something, but you can't get yourself up to do it. And even if you did, even if you ignored the screaming pain in your back, your joints, your very bones, what good would it do? You know you'd only feel worse later, and this is bad enough. So last night I sat on the sofa and stared at the wall while Alex took care of Kassie, and felt awful and depressed and frustrated. I wanted to call up the doctor and beg him for something that would help me, make me feel like a human being again. Sometime to take away the pain, but that wouldn't make me feel drugged to oblivion. I can't function without it, too much pain. Believe me, I've tried, I end up collapsing into a pile of ow and tears. But I can barely function with it, so tired, dizzy, sleepy. And I still hurt on top of all that. Not as bad as without, but still the ache is there. And I sat there and thought, and I knew all this was coming, this point. It does every time. This is why, each time I had an inkling that it was happening again, I cried. I knew that it wasn't bad then, just an annoyance. But it would get bad. It would get bad, and worse, and here I am now. And this time it's worse than ever because I'm supposed to be an adult and I have responsibilities and a daughter and I need to be stronger now. And I'm trying. But it's so hard.
Anyway, bitchfest aside. I think last time I wrote my surgery was set for March 22nd. Funny thing. The person who told me this was very wrong, and apparently the CONSULT for the surgery was set for March 22nd. Only, I later discovered, the surgeon wasn't going to be in the office that day. So it was pushed to the 29th of March. Which is past now, obviously, so I had that visit and talked to him and discussed things and now we have everything sorted out. So, May 17th is going to be the pre-op visit, and May 30th is surgery for real this time. Two more months of this bullshit.
With surgery at the end of May it pretty much fucks over all plans for my summer, which is doing nothing for my depression. I'd hoped to have some semblance of a life back this year, but it's rapidly looking like that won't happen. Surgery will involve four incisions under each rib, and they'll take out both adrenals. This in and of itself shouldn't be too bad (though it will be the most... intrusive surgery I've had to date - eight incisions is blegh) and they say it takes 1-2 weeks to recover. That sounds about right, my gall bladder wasn't awful. The real difficulty comes in the form of complications and balancing my new medications. Without my adrenals I will no longer produce cortisol at all, the thing that helps the body manage stress. Infection or whatever is going to be a Very Bad Thing for me from that point on, so fingers crossed that the entire procedure goes perfectly or else things could end up getting sticky pretty quick. But anyway, my point there being that while the stuff itself might heal pretty quickly, the medication and such will likely take awhile to get sorted out... so it will probably be June or something 'til I'm close to feeling "normal" and quite possibly far longer. I've read that it can take a year or so until the medication is properly balanced, and the person taking it figures out how to get themselves regulated to the point where they don't end up in the ER every few months. So after surgery goes down I'm probably going to be facing a whole new adventure.
Anyway, depressingness aside. Kassie is still a shrimp, turning 8 months old in two days and about 12lbs 5oz last time we weighed her. But that aside she's doing great. Super active and curious, sweet, and pretty mellow about everything. Clingy - she has a habit of throwing a fit unless I'm the one who's holding her, but I hear that's pretty common with breastfed babies and she'll outgrow it. Alex and I are thrilled to death with her. She is by far the one bright point in all the muck right now.
So yes, now I'm going to be THAT PERSON and post a bunch of pictures of her.
And here she is nomming on some toast for breakfast one morning. Amusingly, this outfit is a hand-me-down from Cara's daughter... who is two months younger.
This is us at the grocery store (hence Alex's big hairy arm - no, that's not my arm). She usually sits up, but she decided it was more fun to flop over and chew on things and I thought it was cute.
I feel like it's been forever since I've posted, and I keep wanting to. But lately I've just been too tired/depressed/hurty to bother. I'll hop on LJ, read some stuff, want to comment, and... it's just too much effort. Sad that that's the truth, but I knew that this was coming. Yesterday evening was rough, one of those nights where you just feel helpless. Everything hurts, even on top of the painkiller. The painkiller that isn't working makes you feel sleepy and loopy, so you can't really function well enough to do anything to take your mind off it. Exhaustion just sort of pools in your body, and you want so much to get up and do something, but you can't get yourself up to do it. And even if you did, even if you ignored the screaming pain in your back, your joints, your very bones, what good would it do? You know you'd only feel worse later, and this is bad enough. So last night I sat on the sofa and stared at the wall while Alex took care of Kassie, and felt awful and depressed and frustrated. I wanted to call up the doctor and beg him for something that would help me, make me feel like a human being again. Sometime to take away the pain, but that wouldn't make me feel drugged to oblivion. I can't function without it, too much pain. Believe me, I've tried, I end up collapsing into a pile of ow and tears. But I can barely function with it, so tired, dizzy, sleepy. And I still hurt on top of all that. Not as bad as without, but still the ache is there. And I sat there and thought, and I knew all this was coming, this point. It does every time. This is why, each time I had an inkling that it was happening again, I cried. I knew that it wasn't bad then, just an annoyance. But it would get bad. It would get bad, and worse, and here I am now. And this time it's worse than ever because I'm supposed to be an adult and I have responsibilities and a daughter and I need to be stronger now. And I'm trying. But it's so hard.
Anyway, bitchfest aside. I think last time I wrote my surgery was set for March 22nd. Funny thing. The person who told me this was very wrong, and apparently the CONSULT for the surgery was set for March 22nd. Only, I later discovered, the surgeon wasn't going to be in the office that day. So it was pushed to the 29th of March. Which is past now, obviously, so I had that visit and talked to him and discussed things and now we have everything sorted out. So, May 17th is going to be the pre-op visit, and May 30th is surgery for real this time. Two more months of this bullshit.
With surgery at the end of May it pretty much fucks over all plans for my summer, which is doing nothing for my depression. I'd hoped to have some semblance of a life back this year, but it's rapidly looking like that won't happen. Surgery will involve four incisions under each rib, and they'll take out both adrenals. This in and of itself shouldn't be too bad (though it will be the most... intrusive surgery I've had to date - eight incisions is blegh) and they say it takes 1-2 weeks to recover. That sounds about right, my gall bladder wasn't awful. The real difficulty comes in the form of complications and balancing my new medications. Without my adrenals I will no longer produce cortisol at all, the thing that helps the body manage stress. Infection or whatever is going to be a Very Bad Thing for me from that point on, so fingers crossed that the entire procedure goes perfectly or else things could end up getting sticky pretty quick. But anyway, my point there being that while the stuff itself might heal pretty quickly, the medication and such will likely take awhile to get sorted out... so it will probably be June or something 'til I'm close to feeling "normal" and quite possibly far longer. I've read that it can take a year or so until the medication is properly balanced, and the person taking it figures out how to get themselves regulated to the point where they don't end up in the ER every few months. So after surgery goes down I'm probably going to be facing a whole new adventure.
Anyway, depressingness aside. Kassie is still a shrimp, turning 8 months old in two days and about 12lbs 5oz last time we weighed her. But that aside she's doing great. Super active and curious, sweet, and pretty mellow about everything. Clingy - she has a habit of throwing a fit unless I'm the one who's holding her, but I hear that's pretty common with breastfed babies and she'll outgrow it. Alex and I are thrilled to death with her. She is by far the one bright point in all the muck right now.
So yes, now I'm going to be THAT PERSON and post a bunch of pictures of her.
And here she is nomming on some toast for breakfast one morning. Amusingly, this outfit is a hand-me-down from Cara's daughter... who is two months younger.
This is us at the grocery store (hence Alex's big hairy arm - no, that's not my arm). She usually sits up, but she decided it was more fun to flop over and chew on things and I thought it was cute.