The Humour, The Tears, The Bargaining….

Well, I had another appointment today with my new Gynecologist/Surgeon.

I don’t think he appreciates my humour as much as my PCP does….  I was in full comedy mode at one point during the appointment but all I managed to get was one eyeroll and a small chuckle.   The eye roll came when he said that he was sorry, he’d have to use the bigger speculum because the small one wasn’t allowing him to see what he needed to see.  I said:
“After I’ll I’ve been through since May, I’m not really shocked that my lady bits have become a deep, dark cavern.”
The small chuckle came after he had tortured me getting the larger speculum in place and then he had to adjust the light:
“It’s a bit dark in there; but I guess that’s normal.”
“We could always decorate my lady bits with patio lanterns to make your job easier.”

Honestly, I think the man thinks I may be a little bit crazy.

But I’m okay with that.

He promised today that he wouldn’t give up on me….  So it’s okay with me if he thinks I’m crazy.

Really though, I think it’s less that my crazy is showing and more that I really do just need to get back to my life.  My life as I know it…  Our life as WE know it.

This has all had a huge impact on my Wee….  I’m not happy with how frustrated she is becoming with all of this…

Especially with the fact that we still really don’t know WHAT is wrong…  We only know that things aren’t right.

After going over a bunch more test results and scan results and ultrasound results today; after once again giving me a full exam and applying silver nitrate to the areas that aren’t healing, my doctor looked at me and said we had a choice to make.  There were two options; we had to choose one:
“Ride this out a bit longer or go in and see if we can find the problem.”

I cried…  Again….  He handed me Kleenex…  Again….

I begged for relief.  I begged for my life back.  I begged him to help me.  I even begged him to cut out more stuff and just sew it all up.

He asked if I would be willing to go back and see my old surgeon; the one who did the initial surgery and told me that ‘I was fine’.

I flipped my shit.  I told my new surgeon that hell would freeze first.  I told him that I don’t trust my old surgeon.  I told him that he didn’t listen to me.  I then looked him dead in the eye and said “I don’t trust him.  I trust you.”

He nodded, said he could understand how I felt, and said he won’t give up on me.  He then recommended an exploratory surgery.  He said he can’t guarantee that I’ll wake up feeling any better but, hopefully, I may wake up with some answers; some direction for us to travel.

Right now that is important.  Right now, we have nothing.

He booked the surgery, he booked my next appointment, he upped my pain meds…

He said I’ll see you in two weeks…  after that, I’ll see you just before you go to sleep for me.

I cried…  Again.  He handed me Kleenexes….  Again.

I thanked him.

Now me and Wee hold on to hope…. Hope that when he takes a look, he’ll find something.  Even if it’s nothing he can fix, at least we’ll have something….

Something is better than nothing.  Something gives us some kind of hope for a fix.

Nothing leaves us feeling hopeless and helpless.

Hopeless and helpless…  it’s a sucky spot to be in.

On a side note to all women out there:
If any medical professional EVER says the words ‘Silver Nitrate’ to you; tell them that you’d rather have a red hot fireplace poker shoved up your lady bits….

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There Always Has To Be Balance….

With pain and tragedy there must always be comedy and laughter…  Even if the moments of laughter feel like they are few and far between, they still must be there.

I had an epic one on Sunday.  I’m still laughing….

Here’s the story.

It was the annual trip to the Fair with Wee and her Best Friend and my Best Girl Friend Melissa…..  Time for the kids to run and jump and play and ride rides till they were green…  Time for the mommies to spend time and catch up….

It was going well….  Then it wasn’t….  Then it was….  Then it wasn’t.  There were laughs, smiles, tears, laughs, fighting, laughs, smiles…  Then lunch…  Then more laughs and smiles…  Then the girls decided they needed to be in the little kids’ bouncy castle, then there was more running and playing and smiles and laughs…  And then it was time to go.

And that’s when comedy really joined our group.  Yes, the whole day was fun!!  Even with the fighting and the tears…  It was still fun!  It was great to hang out with Melissa…  Great to see the girls being girls and having fun….  It was just great.

But the comedy really didn’t set in until it was time to say goodbye.

We were saying goodbye outside of the Fairgrounds; my Wee was begging for “just five more minutes but she’s my best friend mommy and I miss her and I’m not going to see her FOREVER and mommy please just a few more minutes mommy!”
But babe, they have to go.
“BUT MOMMY I LOVE HER SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND EVER and it’s going to be forever until I see her again and I miss her and…”

And then the tears really started to roll.

Finally Melissa talked her little one away and off they went.  I got Wee up off the curb and we started to walk to the car; with the tears still flowing and the words still running together.

Then they drove past us.  They got stopped at a red light.  I pointed out the car and Wee started waving so fast I thought her arm was going to fall off…  Melissa’s little one was waving just as enthusiastically out her car window.

Wee ran up to the car and there were tears.  Melissa’s little one shared some candy out of the car window.  Then the light turned green.  They had to go.  I pulled my Wee back onto the sidewalk.  I figured that would be the end of it; candy helps everything after all!  But no…  Comedy had other ideas.

Melissa got slowed up in traffic.  All of a sudden, my Wee was booking down the sidewalk after their car.  She honestly would have put Usain Bolt to shame.

Things started to blur at that moment.  I’m not sure if Melissa was just stuck in slow traffic or if the light had changed or what the hell was going on; all I know is that my Wee, with pink and purple hair and hot pink leggings, was running down the street like the love of her life was leaving her FOREVER.

The first thought that entered my head was “she’s running!!!”

The next thought was “she’s running???”

The next thought was “What in the blue fuck is going on here!!!”

I called out to my hard-headed, heart broken 6 year old and caught up to her.  By that point Melissa was gone from sight.  My Wee was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, huge sobs wracking her whole body, literally crying like her best friend in the whole wide world had just left her for good and she was never ever ever going to see her again.

I gathered her close and gave her a hug.  I took her hand and started to lead her down the sidewalk.  Suddenly she stopped and looked around her:
“Mommy, everyone is looking at me”

In my head I thought, why yes, yes they are… and there’s a lot of everyones to look at you!!!

I chose gentler words for her to actually hear though:
“No hun, no one is looking at you”
Even though I could hear the whispered comments about ‘oh, that poor dear’ and ‘oh, isn’t she so cute’ and ‘oh, wasn’t that the cutest thing ever’…

She looked at me with big eyes with big tears and said:
“Good.  I’d hate people to see me sad.  I’m an ugly crier like you mommy.”

Well thanks, I think.

On our walk back to the car I asked my Wee:
“Babe, what were you thinking running after Melissa’s car like that?”
“I thought I could catch them mommy.  I thought I could see her just one more second!  But then the light changed and they were gone.”

I finally get my Wee loaded into the car; still crying.  I check my phone.  A text from Melissa.  It seems her little one had fallen asleep.

Me, I had to listen to the sounds of a broken hearted six year old ALL THE WAY HOME….

Today, she marked her calendar…  she marked it and started counting the days until she would see her Best Friend again.