Merry Christmas, Anxiety Monster

It was really nice, how many of you responded to my half-joking, kind of sarcastic Story about parenting with an anxiety disorder.  I realized that perhaps by answering here, where everyone can read it, maybe just one less person will be left feeling neurotic and pathetic because of their imperfect mental health - 

I was diagnosed with an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.  I got that diagnosis while still fighting for a doctor to take my physical illness seriously.  It sounds rational, that fears would trigger panic, but in many cases they aren’t what most would consider a natural fear, or its a seemingly natural fear (spiders, drowning, big loud dogs) that a person blows way out of proportion.   Someone fearing drowning may never get in a boat, into a pool, or even that bathtub; hearing really heavy rain might make them panic.  For me, my fear is the loss of control.  

I hate flying, not because I’m scared of crashing and dying, but because I don’t get to decide when we stop, even if I really need to stop.  I get anxious going into dental work or surgery, because I have no control over the outcome.  My biggest fear, though, as far as anxiety goes, is being sick, and losing control of my own body (that’s also why I don’t drink or do recreational drugs).  

It’s ironic and DEMONIC, that my biggest panic trigger has also always been my most severe symptom of Endometriosis.  I was always nauseous or throwing up or dealing with diarrhea, and I was always so fucking anxious.  I would get sucked into the most horrifying cycle of my sickness making me anxious, and my anxiety making me sick.  I’d move into the bathroom for days at a time, in a heavy Gravol and Ativan fog. 

Why is barfing so scary?!  Everyone does it!  And it’s not even the awful physical feelings that set me off...it’s the fact that if I’m going to be sick, I’m going to be sick, and I can’t stop it.  I have no choice.  It needs to come out whether I’m ready for it to, or not!  But it goes a little further for me, which is where the neurotic and pathetic feelings kick in.  

Yesterday a girlfriend told be she’d gotten hit by the tummy bug, and I instantly got prickly and warm, regardless of the fact that I haven’t been with her in weeks!  There’s no way I could have gotten her germs!  But then my husband goes out with her husband last night, and her husband gets hit this morning...so I spent the day, tense, and avoiding all kisses and snack sharing.  Reminding myself that it’s not like our husbands were making out the night before, and also preparing myself.  

‘Just in case’ is a mega coping mechanism of mine; make sure the toilets are clean, that my little drug drawer is full, that there’s ginger ale and apple juice in the fridge.  It definitely didn’t help that I was already nauseous, because it’s the end of the month, and that’s just who I am at the end of the month.  

We went to wander around Christmas lights this evening, and honestly, fresh air is SO good for an anxious brain.  I’d avoided taking an Ativan before going, because I was already so tired, but on our way home I took one.  In Starbucks, after my child said his tummy felt weird...and later that he was too full for his apple chips, and then he got real snuggly, which is wonderful, but made me panic because he’s whiny lately, not sweet and snuggly.  

I’d taken a few sips of my latte then packed it up to take home to my fridge, because I didn’t want to waste it by finishing it and then puking.  I put my kid in the car sans jacket etc..less things to wash if he ended up puking, and I checked ‘how are you feeling?’ every few minutes during the ride home.  He fell asleep.  And went right to sleep when we got home.  He’s not sick, he’s just exhausted.  Right?!  

I sat, coloring, in the kitchen until midnight, too anxious to sleep, and waiting just in case he woke up sick.  Because wake up sicks are the worst.  And now I’ll lay in bed, with our doors open so I can hear him snoring, and hopefully I’ll fall asleep.  And hopefully none of us barf.  

We’re not going to barf.  We’re fine.  And even if we are going to get sick, we will be fine.  Christmas will be fucked, but we’ll be ok.  I will be ok.  I have survived every single sick day, so why does even the mention of a sick tummy make me spin and sweat and over prepare, just in case?  Because I have an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.   And now you know!

Ps.  For the record, I actually appreciate being notified when friends have been sick, especially if we have been in some kind of physical contact over the last few days, or are planning on being together.  I don’t want you thinking that warning me will drive me into a nervous breakdown!  Most days I can just take a few deep breaths, and I appreciate being able to prepare ‘just in case’.  

5..4..3..2..1

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. 

My Brain Can't Comprehend A Clever Title Right Now

It's hard to believe that after more then a decade of being sick, the end is literally right around the corner now.  And I am starting to get anxious.  And super sentimental.  And also super pukey and painful and so damn tired, and unmotivated to blog.  I've started maybe 5 times over the last few weeks, now here I am 1 day from the big day, starting once more.  My brain is absolute mush, and I would really rather sleep, but THIS of all things deserves a blog.  

A loveliest Insta/ Endo friend asked me a little while ago, 'What are your expectations for this surgery?'  I think that's a very valid direction for this post.  It's a very valid question, and one that deserved all the thinking and wondering and deciding that I've done since she asked.  

Firstly, I expect a lot of anxiety.

That's not just me being a big sucky baby, it's me knowing myself well enough to admit it.  I'm only a few days away and it's already started to hang over me like an adorable little grey cartoon rain cloud.  At this point, a lot of the anxiety is subconscious.  I work hard to NOT think about the procedure or the recovery, and have definitely not Googled anything this time and yet that prickly feeling will find its way under my skin.  Or the heat will start settling over my shoulders and down my arms.  Of course a lot of this anxiety is being triggered by the constant nausea and the too-much pooping or barfing, but I'm pretty sure it's also because no matter how hard I try, I can't forget was a panic-filled experience I had with my last (far more minor) surgery.  

I expect a lot of anxiety during my recovery.  Between the immediate pain and the unfamiliar bed, and not having my family around constantly, I can foresee the desire for Ativan.  Possibly an Ativan induced coma for the first few days.  I've had surgery before, and I think it's the knowing you're going to be utterly uncomfortable, and knowing that all you can do its wait it out, that gets me the most anxious.  

This time there will also be the anxiety that comes from knowing a chunk of my insides are missing. That's just weird to think about. 

And then!  I expect to be able to at least lower my anti-anxiety medication doses.  Once the painful, frustrating, probably often mind-numbingly boring recovery period...I'm looking at January, I expect to feel confident in the idea of slowly weaning myself down, and seeing how it goes!  Being physically sick (to my stomach) has always been my biggest panic trigger, and after surgery I expect to not be sick.

That's the biggest expectation.  That's the expectation that will probably cause a little eye rolling, or questioning of how realistic I am being.  

I KNOW that technically there is no cure for Endometriosis.  But I believe and I feel, and I expect this hysterectomy to be the very closest thing.  I know that when they close me up there will likely still be a small amount of Endometriosis left behind due to the too-sensitive locations that it is living, so I will always HAVE endometriosis.  But because I'll have no ovaries, those leftover cells will never again be given a cue to react (and cause symptoms), and without a uterus there will never be new Endometrial cells.  I KNOW that I will never again be as sick (from Endometriosis, anyways..) as I am now, and I EXPECT to feel one million times better on top of that.  

I expect to wake up without having to run to the bathroom.  And I expect to be able to make plans without worrying about having to cancel.  I expect to be able to take my kid out on my own without worrying about getting us stuck in a bathroom for longer then a toddler should ever be stuck in a bathroom.  I'm going to want to eat, and never regret eating after getting sick afterwards, and I'm not going to want to sleep the gross-feeling day away!  I won't stop in my tracks because the pain hits so hard, and I won't have to keep an eye out for every possible bathroom.  I won't whine when I wake up because I feel sick and hope my husband gets our baby breakfast instead of me doing it... I won't need to ask my husband to call in sick so that he can take care of our baby while I sleep of a panic-hangover!  

I of course also expect to feel that pang of jealousy every time a friend announces they're pregnant.  I expect to feel a little guilty every time I see our son playing with his friends' baby siblings so lovingly.  Don't get me wrong, I HATED being pregnant, but apparently it's quite natural for ovaries to ache around new life... Even if you don't have ovaries!  And we are SO happy and SO comfy with just one baby, but I grew up with two siblings, and all of his little friends have (or will have) siblings, so I expect to question whether or not he's missing out.  Or that he feels like he's missing out.  

I expect that the mental and emotional recovery process will take longer then the few physical incisions.  The Endometriosis will be gone, but there will be a new kind of hormones to deal with. And I think it will take time rediscovering what 'normal' and 'healthy' feels like!  That'll be a good process, but a process nonetheless.  THIS has been my normal for such a long time, that I expect not feeling like a pile of shit might feel a little strange at first. 

Huhhhhhhhh and that's all I've got!  Lol.  It's midnight so it's technically Thursday, which means it all goes down TOMORROW!  And I'm half asleep.  And super over all this typing.  Lol I expect that none of the above is much of a good read!  (I'm heavily considering deleting this before posting, lol but it took me forever to motivate myself to sit and type)  Because my brain is mush, and I guess I'm tying NOT to think about any of it too hard.  

La la la!  The next time I type here, I'll be typing without a uterus!  (Or ovaries, or Fallopian tubes, or a cervix!)

The Lupron Diaries

March 12th

Bah.  Here we go!

My husband and son are both coming to hold my hand while Auntie Jenna stabs me in the butt with some concoction that will chemically induce menopause, one month at a time for four months.   Besides just blatantly hating needles, I've also heard far too many horrifying things from others who have been through Lupron treatment, so I've always refused whenever Dr. Ben suggested it.  When he said it was part of elective hysterectomy prep, I said 'fine.'

The next four months will be spent reminding myself that whatever side effects come with it won’t be forever, and that it’s all part of the last step towards the end for me.  

March 13th

Panic attacks and pukes in public are my fave!  

I can't be sure it's a Lupron induced hot flash, but one minuet I'm kicking a balloon around the mall with my kid, and the next my insides are on fire and I have to run to the Chapters bathroom.  Can the hormones fuck me up that fast?  

I hate how much calmer I am being sick in public now.  I mean, it's good that I don't completely freak out, but no one should have to get USED to this.  I used to drive home from the college campus, or a party etc because I could ONLY be sick in my own bathroom.  Or else I would die. Now look at me!  Sick!  In the mall!  And still alive!

March 16th

It'll all be over eventually.  Today I'm praising anyone who deals with chronic migraines.  Brains should never ache this much.  

Ps.  I have passed out 3 times since my last shot.  My already low blood pressure keeps bottoming out. 

March 19th

Today was the most sick, and the most panic that I have dealt with in a very long time...which means a lot coming from me.  And of course it all happened in a public bathroom stall.  

Little Lindley and I were at the arena downtown watching Dada play hockey with his coworkers.  It was a great morning, we had pizza for breakfast while he was on a break from playing.  It happens so fast, and I ran up those big cement steps from the rink to the bar with a toddler in my arms and my hand over my mouth.  I literally chucked him into his stroller and ran to the bathroom.  

The next 40 minutes were spent puking and shitting and taking all the drugs and huffing all the oils in my little bag, between singing songs and making silly faces and finding car videos on my phone to keep a very active kid occupied and in his seat.  And praying that an actual handicapped person wouldn't need a toilet anytime soon, because you can't fit a fucking stroller in a normal stall.  All the while Nolan is on the ice and can't reply to my panicking texts.  

Eventually Dad came to save Boden from a complete meltdown, and Grampa came to pick us up because Dad still had to play.  It was wet and cold outside, and I made us stay in the parking lot until I was sure I wouldn't puke again.  

I must say... Being a mom is a real good distraction.  This was 100% the sort of sick that would have had me laying on the floor (even a public bathroom floor) crying.  But you can't do that with a baby next to you.  A baby who held my hand against his face for a full 60 seconds at one point.  The most spectacular 60 seconds of pure love and calm in the middle of a fucking hurricane.  

March 22nd

It's 5:30am.  I've been in the bathroom for almost an hour now.  Miserable.  Until our baby starts his dino growl from his crib!  Lol like a full minute of perfect little roars, the way he currently greets the ones he loves the most.  He's silent and asleep again. I very rarely smile from this position, lol.  

April 5th

Ughhhhhhhhh.  I just BATHED in oils.  Basically.  I'm home alone with Boden since Grampa has meeting and Dad is at work, so I'm trying desperately not to take all the drowsy drugs.  You'd think the Lupron would make me feel at least the smallest bit better. How do women ensure this treatment on a regular basis?!

April 7th

I think I can actually feel my brain disintegrating.   

April 12th 

Shot #2 was a mother fucker.  

Dr. Ben had said that the first month is the easiest...I assume he thought that would be a comfort, but really it just made me dread this month.  Rightfully so, apparently!  

Auntie Jenna stuck it in, and I stood there waiting to talk to Ben, when the flop sweats and the spins started in slowly.  I left the little office and told Jenna I'd just talk to him later, and I met Nolan and Boden who were playing out in the hall.  And then I hit the floor.  I got an Ativan and an Imodium under my tongue while Nolan ran back into the office for a bucket, I braced myself for the inevitable, and let it all out!  And by 'all' I mean the Starbucks Shaken Mango Black Tea Lemonade that was the only thing I could stomach for breakfast.  (FYI, it's officially on the list of things that taste just as good coming back up.)  

I handled myself pretty well, if I do say so myself.  Nolan kept our ready-for-nap baby distracted while I apologized to the stranger who just watched me hurl, I cleaned out my barf bucket and spent the necessary time on the toilet back in the office, and I didn't even cry.  I did ask my husband to take the afternoon off though.  Now I'm going to nap it off and dream of hysterectomies.  

April 16th

I hosted another Mommy Made Bazaar thisaft.  It was actually a great show and BoBeads did really well...but how pathetic I feel for requiring someone (Nolan or my mom) to be with me the whole time, just in case, sort of over shadows that success.  

I have just been so dizzy.  Like I could fall over at any time.  Which also makes me nauseous.  

April 23rd

Chills is the new black. 

I sweat through 3 pairs of PJs every night, but as soon as it's time to actually be awake, the chills set in.  Like rigid, painful, to-the-bone chills.  I've tried running to a hot shower, layering clothes under my heating pad, but all I can really do is take a few Tylenol and wait it out.  Or Ativan. 

April 28th

Everything hurts.  And I want to die. 

I saw that on a Tshirt on Instagram.  The only thing keeping me alive is the fact that even as he rounds 2 years old, my kid is still down to snuggle in bed with Disney all day.  Like all day.  And I flip flop between feeling like a guilty and shitty parent, and feeling super lucky to be able to have so much close and quiet time with him.  

May 14th

Holy fucking night-sweats, Batman.  

For the last 7 days or so I have had to get up throughout the night to swap pjs.  It's revolting.  Just soaked.  And it's not my armpits, which are supposed to sweat!  It's my boobs and my back and my SHINS?!  Shins sweat?!  

Plus, we sleep in a basement, which is wonderful during hot flashes in the summer, but freezing at night...while I'm running around drenched, feeling at risk of pneumonia.  Lol.  

May 17th

Third shot in the butt today.  

I over prepared after a few days of dreading last month's reaction reoccurring.  But it was pleasantly uneventful.  I reminded Dr. Ben that I AM having a hysterectomy at the end of this shit.  

May 19th

Is it nap time yet?

There's a good chance I could sleep 14 hours and still wake up tired.  And not the kind of tired you feel after over-sleeping.  It is the grossest, heaviest tired all day long.  No matter how much I sleep or eat of how much Starbucks I try to drown myself in.  

It may be the most infuriating side effect.  Or is it an Endo symptom?  Chronic fatigue is something I've dealt with for a few years, but never this badly.  I feel like I could fall over at any minute.  It's infuriating.  My heart is excited it's a sunny day and we have play dates planned, but my brain wants to cry just thinking about moving.  

May 21st

Those who are on it, call it 'Lupron brain'.  Other people probably understand the term 'brain fog' better. Whatever it's called, it's fucking infuriating.  

It's exactly how it sounds, as if this heavy, drowsy, stupid fog is sitting on top of my brain. Suffocating any hope of intelligence.  Sometime I just feel drunk, or stoned.  I can't concentrate to save my life...I re-read pages in my book, and then throw it on the floor.  

'Mom brain' fucked me up good, but this feels far more legit.  My memory recall is mush.  I forget people's names.  I have to look at a phone number 5 times before I punch it in properly.  I have to write notes about everything and put the stupidest things in my calendar or set an alarm labeled 'Put Beads in mailbox' or 'Call Sarah about..whatever.'

I just feel dumb.  I feel very dumb.  

May 25th

I haven't had any hot flashes lately, but it's as if my body has forgotten how to regulate temperature. I'm either on fire or freezing.  

I'm sitting in a Starbucks fully enjoying an hour of baby-free time, trying to let my brain recuperate, and the guy I'm sharing a table with probably thinks I'm detoxing after some wicked drug binge.  I've taken my sweater off and put it back on three times already since I've gotten here.   

May 27th

The mood swings are less like a swing and more like a fucking roller coaster that refuses to let you off even though you've puked 4 times and only paid for one ride!

I've been REALLY good at swallowing the constant urge to cry, and the rage that comes out of nowhere.  But tonight it overwhelmed me.  My husband had tidied our little living room, and moved my bag of peanut MnMs in the process.  Hours later I got Our kid to sleep and sat on the couch half-dead and very ready to binge on Gossip Girl (again) and eat too many MnMs.  Realizing my snack wasn't where I left it, I nearly put my fist through the wall.  In an instant!  'Is he trying to ruin my fucking life?!!'  I said that out loud.  Then I burst into tears and cried over all the things I'd escaped crying about before, and sat on the floor in a big menopausal puddle.  

He text me back from work to tell me where they were.  And that was that.   

June 11th

Such a waste!

We are in Toronto for the weekend with Grampa, and tonight I got to get all dressed up to attend a gala dinner event with him.  Then I ran back to our room to barf.  The end.  

June 13th

Ta da!!!

This morning Auntie Jenna stuck a needle in my butt for the last time, AND booked my hysterectomy!  

Holy balls!

June 18th

(#sarcasm)

I wonder if I'll miss spending this much time on and around a toilet once I'm all better.  

June 27th

I'd swear I was pregnant if I wasn't in the midst of menopause.  

Maybe it's pregnancy-sympathy whatever, considering all my mommies are growing big bellies and revealing genders and debating names right now!  But my chronic morning sickness has kicked in again, I'm tired and moody, I've got some unreal back pain, and the last few nights I have binged as if I've never eaten before!    Between the Endo-belly and the late night feasts, I currently only wear dresses.  Because none of my shorts fit.  And it's hot as balls out. 

July 1st

Today it was super obvious that I'm sick.  

Some days I'm so used to it or I'm so distracted that I totally forget!  Today wasn't a lousy or boring day, it was pretty wonderful despite that sucky weather, but my body made it very clear that it was upset.  We painted our nails and we laughed way too much and rode rides and pet smelly goats and ate French fries, all the while my body felt like it was dying in slow motion.  I've spent 10 years getting used to the nausea and the aches and the pain that feels way too big for such a tiny bod, but the chronic fatigue continues to blow my mind!  

I was able to sleep in today (minus the multiple pj-change and chills disruptions) thanks to Grampa and I went back to sleep when Boden went down for his nap...I was barely awake for like 8 hours today, and after walking around our big Canada Day park for a while my body was completely void of any energy.  It's not just feeling tired...or feeling tired even after sleeping all day, it's my arms feeling like Jello as if I carried bricks around all day, and my brain functioning as if it's been sleep deprived for days.  

Im laying here trying to make myself feel better by remembering that 'at least my hips aren't about to dislocate for the first time, and I'm not about to go into labor!' These next few days are big ones for our family, here's hoping today felt extra sick so that the next few don't! 

July 3rd

Sometimes I'm just minding my own business, driving the speed limit, and someone decides to STAB me directly in the ovary.  

July 5th

I have a 2 year old, and a uterus that it trying to kill me while it still has the chance.  

It's after 2am and I am hotboxing the bathroom with Peppermint, and staring at the little pirate tattoo our Bday boy gave me.  This will all be over soon. 

July 7th

Today was long, like it felt forever long.  And I get extra cranky when I'm not sure why I feel like such a pile of shit.  

I question whether it's my last shot of Lupron wearing off, leading to one giant Endometriosis flare up.  My dad suggested it's just my body asking for a break after the extra stress and pressure that built up over the last few days.  

As much as I want to murder my uterus, I hate the idea of 'stress' even more.  I planned and hosted a baby Birthday party...how pathetic does my brain and body have to be, to let THAT be enough stress and pressure to break me for an entire day?  Since getting sick last night I have been void of all energy and motivation, and when you feel so miserable you want to cry, even in the presence of THE most wonderful child in the world, it's concerning.  

Usually when Boden spends the afternoon with the Nanas it's so that I can get shit done.  BoBeads orders and doTERRA emails and post-bday-party organizing (there's so many cars!!) should have been banged out.  But I slept.  And when I woke up and wanted to put a hole in the wall because I realized my other non-sweat-soaked pjs were in the dryer still...I went back to bed.  It's always safest in bed, lol.  

Eventually I showered, and ate, and then went to pick up our happy little goose.  We snuggled after I tackled him with his toothbrush, and I actually got the play room sorted and tidied.  But I've still got this overwhelmingly heavy feeling inside of me that desperately wants out, via crying or screaming, but I don't have the energy to do either.  So now I go back to bed, reminding myself that tomorrow has to feel better!  

July 12th

Ovaries are asshole. 

I swear that an ultrasound would show my right ovary as big as a baseball right now.  That's how much it hurts.  Two days ago it was my left.  It hurts too much to sleep.  And I'm too hot for my heating pad.  

July 19th

He gets me.  

It's 10am and my child and I are both still in our beds.  I was up way too many times to doe in the bathroom, and I'm laying here wondering if I'll ever have some semblance of energy again.  My last month of Lupron is officially over and this has got to be some sort of withdrawal.  

Granted he was up once or twice for a little reassurance himself, he's never slept in this late...just being extra considerate on an extra sick day for mama!  He's the bestest.

July 20th

On our way home from Ikea.  So ready for bed. 

Nolan held my hand almost the whole way to the store.  We are baby-free and went to get our new bedroom stuff and we're excited for meatballs, but the whole car ride was me facing all the A/C vents in my direction, and sealing the need to barf.  

He held my hand almost the whole way, though.  He's been holding my hand almost the whole way through our entire relationship.  We've been together over 8 years now, and being a happy, productive and HEALTHY wife for him is definitely one of the top reasons I am so excited for surgery.  Though I hope we'll still hold hands lots even when I'm not pukey and in pain every day!

July 24th

Super sexy lunch break.  

Imodium, Gravol and an Ativan, plus Peppermint all over.  In a bathroom stall.  

I'm in Toronto at a small business showcase.  My body hates it when I take it out of the house.  To be fair, I think this is the first vendor event I've gotten sick at, and now I smell like a candy cane.  

Part of me thinks that I've been so sick lately because the Endo knows it's about to be fucking evicted.  Really socking it to me while it still can!  19 days!  I'm 19 days (plus a few extras for recovery drugs..) and my body will be my own again.  Holy shitballs!  Just got to keep that in he forefront of my useless brain!  

And be thankful that my husband is here still...or else the last half hour would have been a BoBeads free for all! 

July 27th

#alltheoils and #allthedrugs this morning.

My Endometriosis has declared (loudly) 'I am not going down without a fight!' And that makes sense, it's been the boss of this bod for a decade and now it's facing an execution.  

We're down to 16 days though!  We can survive another 16 days!  Even if it's going to be the most un-productive, un-sexy 18 days...

August 2nd

UGHHHHHHH. 

I guess it's a good thing, being THIS nauseous and in THIS kind of pain... It keeps me excited to have all my organs chopped out, vs being super anxious about having all my organs chopped out.  

I woke up feeling hungover, with a rock hard and SORE uterus, and said, 'I am SO ready for this hysterectomy.'  Now I need to pack for the hospital.  

August 7th

I think The Lupron Diaries are over.  The end.  

The constant nausea and the remarkable pain has nothing to do with Lupron and everything to do with my Endometriosis.  Maybe that means that besides the 74 shitty side effects, Lupron did work as far as controlling my Endo symptoms.  Still, even if I wasn't days from a Hysterectomy, I don't think I'd ever do another run of Lupron.  That shit has been insane.  I do believe that some women's find great relief with it, and I'm glad for and envy those women, but it and I are in no way friends. Especially if this is how shitty I'd feel at the end of each round of treatment.  

Someone mentioned the second round gets easier.  Lupron is actually too severe a treatment (it's a form of chemotherapy) to use on a regular basis; patients will receive it for 2-5 weeks usually, then they have to take a break, or else their brains and their bones would turn to dust eventually. Basically.  

I am glad my one round is done, I can say that I've survived what was necessary, and now it's over.  Though I will miss Auntie Jenna touching my butt once a month.