Life’s up and down from the time you get here to the time you leave.
Luke Bryan
The UP 
I felt great after the surgery. Went home the next day. No pain, no bleeding. Surely Dr. Sam was wrong to be concerned. The discharge instructions were not to go back to work for 4/6 weeks? But me? Do I listen? Have I ever?
“I am woman, I am strong.”
Life can be such a mean trickster. So I didn’t wait 4/6 weeks to go back to work. Most of my work is at home in front of my computer, but I was also working part-time in an office. I could do this. Why not? Did I say earlier my surgery was in August? (Sorry, senior moment) It was July 20, not August. Whoops.
The DOWN 
Senior memory aside, I felt fine. Why not go back to work? So on August 1st, I went into the office. I started feeling “off.” Couldn’t quite put a handle on it, but decided to call it a day at noon. By the time I got to my car, I knew I was in trouble. Dizzy. Weird random thoughts. What was happening to me?
I made it home. Whew!, Did not run anyone over. (At least that was one good thing about “off-season” in Florida. Less pedestrians to run over.
Hanging on the stair rail, I managed to climb up to my 2nd floor condo. But before I could rest, I had to take care of my precious babies.
I leaned over to fill their food dish, and boom, next thing I knew I was on the floor sitting in a pool of urine (mine) cat food (theirs) and water (theirs). I know I lost my balance. I know I hit my head. I am not sure if I passed out. Wonder Woman that I was, I crawled to the bathroom and cleaned myself up and made it to the couch.
I am no rooky, I went through the 70’s. I know all about roofies, and uppers and downers. But for the next 24 hours, my mind was on overdrive. But none of it made any sense. Words and phrases, totally unrelated to each other raced through my mind at 100 miles an hour. This was NOT a good trip.
By the next day, sweet hubby Tai, had enough. “You are going to the ER.”
“No, “I balked. They will just say my vitals are fine and send me home after hours and hours. I didn’t win that argument.
The ER seemed to only hear one thing. I fell and hit my head and MAY have passed out. My God. Maybe I had a stroke, Maybe I had a concussion. Do a head scan. Do an MRI of my brain. They ran me through the gambit. No stroke. No concussion. No brain damage.
But the blood test did reveal something. I had a UTI infection. And that could have caused the dizziness and crazy thoughts. Seriously? I never knew that. And I had no other symptoms.
So if having surgery with “mushy parts” was not bad enough, now I had a UTI as well? Thank you, Universe.
Was that enough to throw at me? Nope. Let’s see what Wonder Woman could take.
While there, they discovered an abscess on the “cuff” that once held up my uterus. Not good. And it was going on day 3 in the hospital. I’d had four different IV’s in my arms and hands, in addition to other blood draws. I looked like an addict with my black and blue arms.
Dr. Sam had me transferred via ambulance from the hospital near my home to “his” hospital an hour away where I had my surgery. I was glad. Dr. Sam would take care of me. Dr. Sam would say everything will be fine. When he arrived with the pathology report, he was not smiling. “So sorry. It is not stage 1, It is stage 2 with 70% clear cell carcinoma.” That “mushy” was the clear cell. Definitely will need chemotherapy and radiation. Not the news I wanted to hear.
So to sum it up:
Now instead of Stage 1 cancer that would all get cut out —
I have —
- Stage 2 (with most of it cut out)
- Clear cell carcinoma
- UTI infection
- an abscess
Come on Universe. Can you hit me with anything else? Well, YES. It can.
By the time I left the hospital (the 2nd one) I’d been in a hospital for five days.
Was I handling it well? Hell no. Am I now? Hell no. By now I am crying every single day.
No matter how illogical thoughts can be, sometimes they still haunt you (or me at least) Here is one example.
Tai and I were getting gas on one of the many trips back and forth to doctor’s appointments. I was sitting in the passenger seat while he pumped the gas. I watched a young man come out of the convenience store and head to his car. He was practically bouncing, at least that is the way I saw it. And I thought: “Why does he get to be happy, bouncing along like that, not a care in the world? Why isn’t it him instead of me?” Now, I know that is selfish and outrageous. I am not that kind of person. I wouldn’t wish this, or any illness, on anyone. But truth be told, these are the kind of random thoughts that run through my head. Maybe they run through yours too. If you have an experience you’d like to share, (about this or not), maybe it could help you, and me and whoever else is reading this.
Writing Under Fire 