Geez it's been a long time since my last post. My world has been further rocked to the core in so many ways since that last post in May that it seems like it was 10 years ago instead of only a little over 4 months.
My therapist (yes I now have a therapist... we'll address that in a future post) thought I should start writing again. I agree with her. It does help me get all the terrible awful shit in my mind out. So I'll be doing my thing more often now with some funny stories, sad stories, and in the great Kristy way, totally brutally honest opinions and alliterations. Whereas before the blog was a way for me to inform everyone at once what was going on with my "C" journey without having to repeat the terrible horrible shit over and over. It is now going to pivot more towards spewing and venting and healing. It may be offensive at times to some, and at times some people may not agree with everything I say, but it's not about you, this blog is about me and my healing process. And if along the way folks take pleasure in reading it or can relate in some way to help them heal, then that's just an added bonus.
With that, I guess I should start from the ending of the last post and get you caught up in summary regarding what I am now titling 2018 as "Kristy's Shitty Year".
Hysterectomy day went as planned. What I wasn't prepared for was the massively intense pain I was in after it was over. I seriously had never felt pain like that before and if you remember, I had just cut my boobs off! So there's that.... The nurses wouldn't listen to my request for a certain kind of narco combo. After two days of writhing pain, they finally realized I might know what the hell I was talking about and switched me over to the boobie chopping narco combo. Finally all was right with the world. Or as good as it could get after getting another part of my body ripped out of me I should say. So after three fun filled nights in the fabulous hospital bed I was headed home to my bed to recover for the next 6 weeks. Pain was intense, sleep was little, and I had some complications that put me in full bed rest for several days more than once. But alas I survived and back to work I went again in June.
Docs tried me on a new cancer drug after the hysterectomy. The side effects sounded horrendous. But I took them anyways.... I'll do anything so that shit doesn't come back! Well maybe.... After several weeks on the pills, my joint aches became so unbearable I could barely walk up stairs, the hot flashes were so intense there was no relief at all, and my brain was becoming mush. I felt like I was slowly dying. I saw my oncologist for a follow up regarding the poison pills and he told me to stop taking them. I said are you sure. His reply was yes. These pills only give you a 2% less change of it recurring. And the quality of life is worth more than the 2% protection these pills can provide. I cried all the way home tears of joy. I still, at times, wonder in my crazy brain, if it comes back, would the pills have stopped it. But somehow I have to just quit doing the mental dance with myself. I guess only time will help that.
What I also wasn't prepared for was the PTSD that began shortly after returning to work. Mentally I was a wreck. Physically I was still totally exhausted and sore all of the time. My surgeon recommended I see a therapist, as she thought I had a form of PTSD. She explained that everything had happened so quickly and intensely over the last several months I didn't have time to process any of it, which was causing me some issues. So after a couple of weeks of putting it off, I finally began seeing a therapist. She was helping me a lot and finally around July I was starting to feel like a human being again. Geez what was I thinking. I should have known better!
First I was having some issues with the internal hysterectomy site. I called my doc and he said to come right in. It seemed I had a spot on the internal incision line that was not wanting to heal correctly. So I had to go back once a week for 3 weeks straight to have some silver nitrate put on the incision site ... yes ladies, up there with the instruments and all. Hell I thought I was done with that FOREVER.... no such luck. Oh yeah and due to my BRCA gene I still "get" to have annual "up there" exams because even though I have been cleaned out, I can still get cancer up in there.... are you F'n kidding me.... yee haw!
And to add insult to injury, right in the middle of all of the fun shrink visits and gyno visits, one evening I was feeling a little stomach ache coming on. At first I passed it off as gas or one of my other colon issues that I've always had. But as the night went on the pain got pretty intense. I woke Don up and said we need to go the hospital now.... at 2a.m. Thankfully for me, I guess 2a.m. on a Monday evening is a slow night in the ER. We were the only ones there and they got me into a room and was being looked at immediately. So yep the routine... blood work first, IV (you know my favorite part EVER), but at that very moment didn't care because I was in so much pain I just wanted the good drugs! haha! Of course, as before, they didn't give me the narco combo that works and I was bitching about it because good God people by now I F'n know what works. The doctor came in and told the nurses "give her whatever she wants". Don said he knew at that moment whatever was wrong couldn't be good. Doctor said it was acute pancreatitis. Never heard of it, but apparently it was not a good thing to have. Doc then sent me straight to CAT scan. Luckily by then I'd gotten the good stuff and don't really remember much of the CAT scan. What I do remember is thinking, oh my God, BRCA attacks the pancreas too.... Oh no, the fuckin cancer has gone to my pancreas. The 30 minutes it took for the doctor to come and give me the CAT scan results were the longest EVER! When he came in and said "no cancer", I almost cried. The relief was like no other I'd ever felt. Well maybe that one time the pregnancy test was negative hahahaha! Next thing I knew I was being admitted to the ICU. Well this freaked me out. Why am I going to the ICU for something like my pancreas. I found out later at a follow up appointment the reason. My levels for my pancreas were so high that they didn't even register on the lab charts and this could have turned out very bad. The next news I received on my ride up to the ICU was that I would not be eating or drinking ANYTHING, not even ice chips, for at least 3 to 4 days. What??? Are they trying to kill me here?? So for four terrible awful horrible days they pumped my body full of liquids so fast I was going through a bag of saline about every 2 hours or so. I was hooked up to 4 different things and every time I had to pee, which was every 20 minutes, I had to unhook everything, drag the damn IV stick with me and pee... by the 4th day I was so exhausted from no sleep and no food I really just wanted to die. Finally on day 5, I got to go home, but with a very strict diet, an appointment for a pancreatic scope ultrasound and NO explanation of why this happened. They ruled out all of the "common" causes for this. So for 6 weeks I was basically on a soft food, no fat diet and praying that they did not find something "bad" on the impending scope ultrasound procedure. Yes I did need to lose 20 pounds, but I sure as hell didn't want to do it this way! Thankfully and gratefully the scope showed nothing bad and the doc said I could introduce some "real" foods back into my diet slowly. I haven't done much of this yet though as I am now terrified of another attack, since we still don't know what caused the first one. I guess eventually the terror will dissipate and I will eat again. For the time being, skinny minny I shall be! But boy do I miss a big ole fat bloody steak with a Jack and Coke!
And if I hadn't already had enough, my grandfather's house burnt down and lost everything 2 weeks ago. For those of you that know my family dynamics, this is a daily struggle with caring for him and my aunt after the fire. I am taking care of all of the insurance stuff for them. Thankfully I know a little bit about all this since I've worked in insurance for 18 years. But my God there's a lot to do, process, and deal with. They are in a rental house here in Columbia for the next 3 months until the settlement goes through, but we are praying that it goes through a lot quicker and we can get them back "home". Even thought it will not be their house, they will at least be back in their home town where things are familiar again. The struggle is real folks!
So you see, Kristy's shitty year is continuing in stride. I'm ready to burn a bale of sage, do an exorcism, or find the asshole that has the voodoo doll of me and kick his ass and get rid of this black cloud of doom I'm floating under. I'm pretty sure I've never ever been so exhausted, sore, and just over it in my whole life. My mental breakdown is right around the corner. If you see me wandering around town naked in a daze, don't mind me, I've just finally lost it! LOL!
