December 31, 2016
Drugs that are meant to be taken when one is sick, should not be allowed on the market until they no longer taste like they're going to make one sick. The insta-Imodium has a stomach-soothing mint flavor, and don't get me wrong, I know mint is a stomach-soother, my Diffuser is currently pumping out a blinding amount of Peppermint. This drug mint though, manages to coat your tongue and your throat somehow, making you too afraid to swallow ever again and have to relive it.
I'm very on the fence right now, at 5am on the last day of the year. The half-empty side of me is screaming 'What he fuck!? After all I've fucking been through this year I'm STILL going to be sick on New Years Eve?! Go fuck yourself! Fuck!' The half-full side of me though, is really impressed with how well I've handled this morning's sick so far.
Boden woke up, so I woke up. An early wake up is normal (I'm constantly reminding myself that he did just sleep 10 straight hours), he likes a bottle and a show and then he's content or falls asleep again until closer to 8am. The hot and the dizzy hit while I was in the kitchen cutting open a new bag of milk, and my initial thought is ALWAYS 'flight'. I was going to run upstairs and wake my husband up to take over then take all the drugs and throw myself into a pile on the bathroom floor and just wait to die. But I 'fight'-ed it. I took deep breaths while the bottle in the microwave counted down its 25 seconds, I took deep breaths while I lowered the brightness and the volume on the iPad. I even got his diaper changed and tucked him back in before realizing I could barf on him if I didn't get moving. And even then I was able to grab my phone and my pillow, wake my husband up (just in case), get a cold cloth and take the first Ativan I've had in two months (since I had the flu, just before we moved), before finally sitting on the toilet.
The fact that it's been two months since my last Ativan is pretty remarkable all on its own. There have been so many moments that I wanted one. Really, there have been too many moments where I've wanted one...and now I'm worried that something may not be right, because I've been nauseous, exhausted and in pain and dealing with daily diarrhea for the last two weeks, which seems like too much to simply blame on the non-bleeding menstrual cycle I still have thanks to my one stupid ovary. But that is a whole other story, and I haven't taken an Ativan since the last time I was really sick. I can deep breathe through nausea and an anxious poo and 'uterus' pain, but once it's coming out both ends I think anyone who doesn't take #allthedrugs is really just a moron.
Feeling sick on and off for the last few weeks has been very trying as far as my anxiety goes. My Hysterectomy was almost 5 months ago, and before lately I was feeling so amazing on an every day basis. Over time I was getting used to feeling normal when I woke up, I was subconsciously letting my guard down, naturally. So the occasional upset tummy would really throw me for a loop. In the midst of my Endometriosis I was nauseous all day and every day, and that's what I was used to. Diarrhea didn't phase me anymore, needing to spend a morning in a small Gravol coma and wrapped around my heating pad didn't phase me, because that was my norm. But it's not anymore, and it's not supposed to be (because I chopped all my sick parts out of me!!), so now I panic a little more when it happens to hit.
The half-empty side of me is buzzing with conspiracy theories (I've got the flu again, my ovary is full of Cancer, they missed some Endo and now it's growing back again so what the fuck was the point, I'm going to go to jail after I murder my surgeon because obviously he fucked something up and then I'll miss my friend's mountain wedding and my kid's 3rd Birthday and they probably don't just hand out Ativan in jail and can you imagine being THIS sick in a jail cell instead of this remarkably roomy and pepperminty new ensuite of ours...), but the half-full side of me is calmly reminding me to be thankful and so proud of myself. I have done huge things this year, I've survived huge things.
•We hosted our 2nd Birthday party and a Halloween party, things that would have required multiple Ativans and cries and probably rescheduling the year before.
•My business is still up and running and successful! Admittedly I worried it may be a fad, or the initial success may have simply been good luck, or that I'd lose interest, but I continue to choke back happy tears every time a new order comes through and even banged out our first (75 piece) wholesale order!
•I hosted two more Mommy Made Bazaar events, one of which allowed me to deliver extra Christmas smiles to 64 amazing and grossly deserving mothers of sick children. These events always lead to stress-induced anxiety and I always question why I choose to put myself through it again, but in the end I always feel proud and so successful.
•My little family and I spent a long weekend in NYC and it's the first trip (there or anywhere) that didn't require even a single Ativan or Gravol or Imodium! Don't get me wrong, navigating the city with a toddler was plenty stressful and he kept us from getting sufficient sleep, but it was honestly the greatest family 'vacation', and possibly my greatest memory of 2016 (next to my surprise 30th Birthday fiesta, I mean).
•We moved, and rather suddenly! We'd spent a few months looking for a new place with my dad, but had given up which was definitely a relief for me. The idea of packing up all of our shit was terrifying. But then we found the perfect home out of nowhere and my dad worked it out so that we had ample time before our closing date, and we actually had both houses for almost a month so we could take our time painting and moving a little at a time. We are in a new city which is in no way ideal, 25 minutes from our best friends and our cozy mall and the Starbucks that I could walk to, but I've allowed myself time to adjust. I still hate it some days, the location, but our home is perfect with its big rooms and big backyard, and our family is so happy. Our odd us + Grampa + Jach the Nigerian housemate family.
•And I had a Hysterectomy. Even if in the end this surgery wasn't enough to fix the thing that has been trying to break me for years, it is still my biggest victory of the year. Possibly ever. Though, in Grade 5 I won the city-wide public speaking award with a speech on commercials. I've also correctly guessed how many candies are in the jar on more then one occasion. (Shit. I've lead an impressive life.)
I fought for this surgery, I fought for it harder then I've had to fight for anything else. I wanted it, and this year I refused to take no for an answer yet again. The recovery was unbelievable, and nearly 5 months later there is still an aspect of recovery that in dealing with (and constantly drafting a blog about), but I have survived it. We all have. Everyone around me has worked so hard to see me survive it, and I couldn't be more thankful.
They say that you can't pour from an empty cup, and this surgery was my way of refilling mine. At least half full! If we ignore these last few weeks, this surgery brought a renewed sense of energy and love for life, some sort of freedom. If we ignore these last few weeks I can proclaim that I've felt 85% better then I did 6 months ago. Not perfect of course, but 85%!? That's a huge number! I can easily feel that I am a better wife and mother and friend, and that is a great success. I did that for myself, and that is pretty awesome.
I've scrolled through so many #fuck2016 posts this last week, and it makes me so sad. Yes, there have been horrific natural and completely unnatural disasters this year. There's Trump. I have friends who have had to face divorce and friends who have lost deeply loved ones. Half of Hollywood's Walk Of Fame seems to have moved up to Heaven this year. Brock Turner. Florida. There have been car accidents and fights and questioning it all. But even in my sick moments, I am managing to feel thankful. Thankful my loved ones are still with me, thankful I'm not American, thankful no one was hurt when some dummy rammed into our car, thankful for the love that has surrounded me every day even when I'm a sick and miserable pile of lame. Especially our 2 and a half year old boy who just bust in here when he should have been back to sleep, smiley and snuggles into my lap on the bathroom floor, like the perfect little puppy that he is.
It was a long year, and a rough year, unfairly rough on some, but I survived it. We survived it! We've all survived one more year, and we are going to do remarkable things in the next one. I can feel it. I may only be half full, but this next year feels like it may be awfully replenishing.
Deep breaths. Happy New Year.
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