Monthly Archives: January 2015

Spread ’em

Seriously, I spent time thinking about what to title this blog. And I spent even more time trying to decide how much ERCK I could get specific about. So I went “haha” with the title and am going to be polite in the blog.

I have my appointment with the new gynecologist tomorrow (this post will be scheduled, so I will likely be completely done with the appointment by the time it publishes). I’m not looking forward to it. I’ve had crappy experiences with gynecologists in the past. Fortunately, not crappy like most women have to deal with…but I’ve gone through multiple doctors as we moved houses and my cycle went cray-cray. I’ve been through many sides of the cycle experience, and I’ve been on and off pills to try to get things regulated. At some point, I just gave up and pretty much went with the flow. No pun intended. I have been told my weight has screwed up my cycle, but after losing a lot of weight it changed nothing. I was told I have fibroids (years ago) that shouldn’t bother me. Then I was told I have a thick uterine lining. Then I was told I had fibroids that were big (without symptoms) and that I should have a hysterectomy immediately. That doctor (who always acted so arrogant) freaked me out, and I ended up running off to a very highly regarded oncologist, who told me it was entirely appropriate to “wait and see”, especially since I wasn’t having symptoms (or problems). That was over two years ago. And since then, I’ve gone through the uterine cancer with my mother. I have no idea if there is a heredity component to uterine cancer (I’ve not googled it AT ALL), but when I was talking to T about it, she asked if I knew there was, what would I do? And I said I would pay much better attention to my gynecological health. So she told  me that I should consider following that path. So I’m trying…

I have the three lab reports from my three internal ultrasounds (aren’t THOSE just party-time fun?) so I can show it to the nurse practitioner I’m seeing tomorrow. (I would have had to wait another month see the doctor, and T told me the NP was actually much nicer.) I would assume she’s going to do an internal exam, probably a breast exam, and then we’ll jabber about my cycle issues and the fibroids. She’ll probably give me a referral for a mammogram (I’m past THAT AGE), and maybe I’ll end up with another internal ultrasound. I’ve put off worrying about this appointment until today. I’ve been trying to distract myself all day, and until the last couple of hours, it has worked. Now I’m thinking about it…and worrying over what’s going to come of it.

I have absolutely no need for my female organs. I’m not planning to have kids. I’m not attached to them emotionally. I’d probably be happier without them because they do cause me aggravation just thinking about the issues involved. I am also terrified of having surgery, with all that it entails. I do not have experience personally with surgery. I’ve been under anesthesia for a endoscopy…”twilight” they told me. I did not enjoy it. I woke up as they were pulling the tube from my throat and it was frightening and uncomfortable. Going “under” was also frightening and uncomfortable (although I had an awesome nurse who talked to me for as long as I could remember while I was going under). Clearly I survived the ordeal, and I would guess I’d be okay after a hysterectomy. My mother did really well with hers. 90% of the women I know personally have had the surgery and they all made it through. I always feel like I’m “special” and that if there is going to be a problem, then I’m going to have it. It seems to be a pattern for me. T tells me I’m not special in this manner. I disagree. We argue. It never resolves.

It’s time for me to close down for the night. Tomorrow is a new day. The appointment is late in the afternoon, so I get plenty of time to think about it again tomorrow. Cross your legs…errr, fingers for me.

It’s the day of and I’m nervous. Sitting around all day sucks. I slept really horribly last night, was up early, and my stomach has been unhappy all morning. Part of why I don’t like going to doctors is the anxiety of waiting for the appointment. The unknown…what’s going to happen, what’s going to be said, what’s going to be diagnosed. What bad thing is going to happen or be found. So anxious, ya’ll. Hub is at work so I’m here alone. He’s coming home to take me to the appointment, and I’m definitely going to tell the CRNP that I have an anxiety disorder. I hope she’ll be sympathetic and gentle in speaking with me. I really don’t like feeling this way. I want to distract myself, but it’s not really happening. Urg.


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Trust in me…

…jusssst in me.
Shut your eyes and trust in me
You can sleep safe and sound
Knowing I am around

Slip into silent slumber
Sail on a silver mist
Slowly and surely your senses
Will cease to resist

Trust in me, just in me
Shut your eyes and trust in me

So at my last appointment with T, we had a very odd tangential conversation. The point that is relevant is that I told her I could not wear ear plugs at night while trying to sleep (Hub snores like a mofo) because I couldn’t stand not being able to hear if something was happening (the dogs, fire, someone breaking into the house, a tree coming down, car alarm, etc). And I added that for as long as there have been headphones for portable music, I’ve NEVER used both sides of the headphones/earbuds. I would either leave one of the earbuds out or put the headphone BEHIND my ear so I had one ear open. She looked at me and said, “You really have no trust in the universe, do you?”

I laughed and said that was correct. She told me she swims underwater with headphones (or earbuds, I’m not sure). I was somewhat appalled! What if something happens and she can’t hear it?? She said she was actually swimming and two lifeguards were trying to get her attention because there was an issue with the pool and they needed her to get out. But she swims with a snorkel and so she doesn’t even come up for air. They finally caught her at one end by touching her leg. But my immediate thought was that she could have really had a major problem and no one could get her attention… the thought of it just gives me the shivers.

Anyway, so the other night, I’m in bed trying to fall asleep, and I start thinking about what she said (about the no trust in the universe). And my mind just gets hung up on trust. I have major trust issues, I’m well aware of that. But until I started really thinking about it, I didn’t realize how pervasive it really is. How it touches almost every part of my life. I start wondering if it isn’t hope (or lack of) that might be my biggest issue…it might be trust. I feel like it took me only a few moments to come up with tons of reasons I feel mistrustful. I suspect if I worked at it, I could trace it back to before I even understood what was happening. But in my memory and consciousness, I know that it started when I first got sick and not one doctor knew what the fuck to do with me. I always thought that doctors were smart, and if you got sick you went to them and they fixed you. That didn’t really happen for me. I went through more doctors than anyone I knew at the time, and had more tests and procedures than anyone at the time. And not one time did they come up with an answer…most of the time they sent me on to another doctor without any diagnosis. ONE doctor thought he knew–and I’m grateful because I felt he tried really hard to figure it out–but he really only left me with a “syndrome” which is technically just a collection of symptoms that are otherwise not categorizable. From there, I have a whole passel of doctors that never really knew what to do with me.

Then we move to personal things. Like my trust issue with friends, especially when the person I thought was my best friend actually broke into my house, ransacked it, and stole from me. And early in my relationship with Hub, there were a couple of instances that struck at my trust with him. And again later in our relationship. As much as I know we’ve worked hard at our relationship, it hasn’t been without hiccups. I try very very hard to trust Hub, but there are times when that issue rears its ugly head. Next up? My own body. I feel like I can’t trust my own body to perform the way it should. The pain, the inability to do things properly and maintain energy. The inability to maintain a good weight and/or lose weight. The muscles that don’t work right. The joints that are no longer smooth and reliable, sometimes even fail to hold me up. The stomach that doesn’t work properly or reliably. The wheat allergy, the egg allergy, the carbohydrate sensitivities. Bleh.

Universe problems. Starting with my unknown illnesses and resultant disabilities, then another round of unknown illnesses resulting in more disabilities…both illnesses leaving me unable to work and earn a living and help support my family. Then 9/11 — and with  my mother in Washington D.C. less than 15 miles from where the Pentagon was hit. My grandfather was sick for months with no answers, then they finally figured out he had acute myeloid leukemia and he went into the hospital, then died alone overnight one night. My grandmother basically went blind, then got dementia and had to spend years and years being cared for 24/7 by (amazing) women who had to take care of her every need. Then watching her body slowly go downhill, and finally watching her die. Then my uncle fell ill with an unknown illness, he ends up in the hospital, and within days he’s in a coma, then dies. We still have no idea what happened. My aunt (his wife) gets ill from an unknown illness, goes into the hospital, ends up in a coma, and dies. We still have no idea what started it or why she died. My Sweet Pea, who got sick out of the blue, suffered through trauma and pain, and needed us to euthanize her so she wouldn’t suffer. My mother’s cancer, out of nowhere. All of these things happening in the last 15 years. There are more things, but I feel silly listing them all. I understand that life happens, and I understand that we are dealt the hand we are dealt…but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel mistrustful of the universe.

I understand that a lot of what I’ve said seems illogical. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel the way I feel. And I also wonder how control fits into this whole scenario? My lack of trust, does it lead me to wanting to control situations with the hope that I can make things work out the way I want? How are the two intertwined? How do I untwine them? How do I get over my mistrust I have? Any of it?

More questions than answers. More obsessing over the trust issues than I want. More things to talk with T about.


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Today’s challengers: But v And


ANDNot sure if it will be a knockout or not, but here we go.

I spent almost ten days trying to track down a blog post I am POSITIVE that I wrote and published…and yet I’ve been unable to find it. Say, if any of you come across it, let me know! Anyway, I’m going to go ahead with this post and if I repeat anything, you now understand why it was so.

During my last therapy session with T, we went on a track of talking about accomplishments and the past. I told her that I knew I’d made a list of accomplishments, and that at the same time as writing the accomplishment (and/or thinking about it), I always ended with a “but…” For example…

I moved out of my parents’ house at 21 years old by purchasing a townhouse on my own, about 30 minutes away from my family. BUT, less than a year later the person I thought was my once-best friend, broke into my house, ransacked it, and purposefully stole items she knew were sentimentally important to me. Therefore leaving me feeling violated and vulnerable, and forcing me to install bars on my windows in order to continue to live on my own.

So I basically negated my accomplishment in the same breath as I made it. Why? Why do I feel the need to cancel out my accomplishments with negative follow-ups? The negative follow-ups ARE true. They did happen. But they don’t cancel out the actual accomplishment, because those, too, are true. An old Dr. Phil (don’t judge me!) ism was, “saying but cancels out everything you said before the but.”

So T told me that I need to learn to replace the “but” with an “and” because both parts of the statements are true. There was an accomplishment. AND something else happened.

I moved out of my parents’ house at 21 years old by purchasing a townhouse on my own, about 30 minutes away from my family. AND less than a year later the person I thought was my once-best friend, broke into my house, ransacked it, and purposefully stole items she knew were sentimentally important to me. Therefore leaving me feeling violated and vulnerable, and forcing me to install bars on my windows in order to continue to live on my own.

Yes, it’s TRUE! Both those things DID happen. And they were both important parts of my life. And one does not cancel out the other. What a light bulb feeling. So important to me that I wanted to use it as a writing exercise, to more firmly implant the idea of AND into my mind and life. And when I told T that, she got up from her chair and grabbed a pad and drew me the “And…” that you see above. She told me to take it home and keep it as a visual reminder, because I can be a very visual person. I scanned the image into an electronic file and cleaned up the background (it was a fancy notepad). It’s on my desktop to look at as often as I need, and the hard copy is in my bedroom.

I’ve spent much more time since that conversation with T thinking about the words I use when I speak. I had a long conversation with Hub over dinner last night talking about how we speak to ourselves (in regards to an issue HE is grappling with)…not just negative self-talk, but in regards to the word choices we make. I’m such a semantics type of person, why the difference between “but” and “and” didn’t occur to me before is crazy. Then again, it may have been in my writing repertoire and not in my speaking world. I always write better than I speak because I take much more time to formulate (and edit) what I write, versus speaking. These days, I’m trying to take more time to formulate my speaking words than I used to. More time to consider what my words actually MEAN. I hope that’s a good thing…I hope I can make it meaningful for my journey forward.




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