Late February cycle

I had about 12 consecutive pain-free days from last cycle til this one.

I began getting intermittent uterine and ovarian cramping on February 16, when I was feeling sad and missing my grandmother, as it was her birthday. She’s been gone for 25 years, but I still grieve for her.

Two days later, I spent the day grieving for a friend who’s been gone for 9 years. Every year around the time of his death, I get little reminders seemingly from beyond, that he’s still with us somehow. Because I was sad, I got cramps again.

A few days later, my husband returned from a weekend-long gaming convention, and I was happy to see him, so we were intimate. The next day, I experienced either dyspareunia or premenstrual cramping, and then a day later (yesterday), george appeared two days early.

The thing is, I think I brought it upon myself. I’ve had a rough month emotionally, as I’ve been really sad for people who have died. And then I had a really bad day at work, wherein I got emotionally involved with a child who was having tantrums. When I tried to lead her out of the room so as not to cause further disturbance to the class, she had a big meltdown. I picked her up to expedite the removal from the class, and she wriggled free and fell to the floor screaming. My face was beet red with embarrassment and also with anger. In my effort to do the right thing (get her out so as not to disturb the lesson taking place in the classroom), it actually sped up the child’s complete meltdown.

Within minutes, I felt a trickle and a hot sear of pain, and I knew that I had made not one but two bad choices: taking the child out of class and causing myself a release of stress and anger hormones, which flooded my system and started the endo flare.

And I was supposed to be the head teacher all this week, as my head teacher is on a family retreat.

As soon as I got the child stabilised emotionally, and made sure the assistant teacher in the class was still running things alright, I called upon the director and the afternoon supervisor for help in finding substitute teachers, in case I could not make it in the next day.

This morning, I woke determined to get SOME work done. I wrote:

Attention: I am going in to work. Endometriosis can DIAF.
I’m the boss, dammit; I call the shots in this body.

 
I got through 5 hours before the pain and exhaustion took me out of the game. Then I came home and passed out for 3 hours with second round Ibuprofen and heating pad. Outside, we had an unusually warm and sunny winter day – it was in the 70’s, which is weird even for California. In February, it’s supposed to be raining hard all through February.

But because of george, I missed a beautiful sunny day, and I will miss it again tomorrow, too.

I spent the rest of the day today couch-ridden, working on importing endo blog posts over to Facebook.

The pain has been steady throughout the day, and I resorted to taking a half Tylenol 3 pill in the evening.
After dinner, I needed the other half pill. I’ve consumed 2,000mg of Ibuprofen today. The pain has been constant at 7 on the pain scale.

This evening, still in the thick of an endo flare, I counted out the days til the next one.

The next endo flare is due on the anniversary night of one of my favourite night clubs.

I’m seriously thinking of showing up – even if I have to arrive in my wheel chair. I AM SO FURIOUS WITH THIS ILLNESS TAKING JOYFUL EVENTS AWAY FROM ME.

More on the 5th cycle

As previously mentioned, this is the 5th cycle since surgery. I had three days of cramps leading up to george, who started on time on Friday, April 1st.

I was spotting by the end of the day on Thursday. It increased by Friday morning. I really didn’t want to go to work, but I pushed through the cramps, which were at a 4.5 on the pain scale. I loaded up on 600mg of Ibuprofen, looked up the bus schedule, walked to the corner, and waited for my bus.

The bus passed me, stopping three blocks up. I was so pissed off. I had relied on a local transit planning tool online, and also checked the schedule mounted at the bus stop. After the bus passed me, I looked up nextbus.com and found that there is no longer a stop where I stood. I then remembered that last year, there had been three different cuts to service routes, and I recalled that people were really upset over it. Proposition 22 passed in November, but it was too late by that time – AC Transit had suffered and made cuts before the prop passed.

I wasn’t personally affected by it at the time, because I still had a working car.

I walked back to the house and woke my husband, asking what I should do. I told him I was cramping, so I didn’t want to ride my bike to work. I told him my car is about to die, because it’s sputtering (spark plugs need changing), the exhaust is fubar, the rear brakes are leaking fluid and the drums are fubar, and the alignment is off due to a hit and run while parked last weekend when I was not paying attention to my car because we spent that weekend at the hospital visiting my husband’s father. Oh, and the “check engine” light had just come on this week on top of everything else.
I asked for advice – should I rent a car, take a cab, or did my husband want to drive me to work? And I could then have time to find a bus home later.

My husband said he’d drive me to work, much to my relief.

I got through the work day on only 600mg of Ibuprofen, simply because I was too busy to take more Ibuprofen throughout the day. The good news is that the pain did not ramp up enough for me to say, “Ok stop, I need medication NOW.”
The bad news is that since the pain was merely a 4.5 on the pain scale, that meant it was a continuous low drone of pain throughout the day that I neglected to properly manage. Thus, I made my day rougher than it should have been.

The pain started to ramp up by the end of my work day, and so I was pleased when a co-worker offered me a ride home. She also suffers with chronic pain (Interstitial cystitis) and multiple food and environmental allergies, so we’ve had many conversations, as misery loves company.

I cannot remember what I did when I got home, aside from taking half a Tylenol 3 and more ibuprofen. I think I just sat on the couch in a pain haze.

My husband got home from work a bit earlier than usual, so I thought we were going to the hospital to visit his dad again. Turns out he is just burnt out and wanted to leave work early. I get that. He whisked me off to grocery shopping for junk food, and we went to a friend’s house and hung out for the night.

During that time, I consumed another half Tylenol 3, some wine (yeah bad monkey, so sue me), lots of popcorn, cheese, strawberries and other sundries, and about 3 pints of water. I also had another bronchospasm – I’m still prone to those after getting bronchitis in February. What set me off was her husband having gone downstairs for a smoke and coming back into the house with smoke still on him and in his lungs. UGH. And my inhaler had been emptied the day before, so I had to push through that, too.

So that was Friday.

Saturday, we slept in, and then my husband dropped me off at the BART station, where I took the train to my long-awaited hair appointment (no sitting on the nasty seats this time – I stood and held onto the aluminum poles).

It’s been 3 months since I last saw my awesome hairdresser. It was right after surgery that I saw her, so I was excited to get something new done to my hair. It was my ME day and I wasn’t about to let the pain destroy it!! I popped 600mg Ibuprofen and half a Tylenol 3 and got on the train no problem.

Once I got into big scary San Francisco, however, things changed. Despite having GPS on the iPhone, as well as printed out street maps, I still could not get my bearings once I emerged from the subway BART station. I walked around in circles, trying to find the imaginary bus on California Street.
Within 10 minutes I realised the same thing that happened to me the day before in my hometown was also happening in The City – the buses are on tighter and changed schedules, now. Prop 22 didn’t do a damned thing to change that. GRRRRRRRR.
I called the hair studio and spoke to my hairdresser friend, who guided me to the next street over. I got to Sacramento Street and hopped on the 1. I got to my hair appointment 22 minutes late, but my friend still graciously accepted me and cut my hair exactly as I wanted it.

Before

Before

After!

After!

After :)

After :)


 

The pain had spiked when I sat down for my haircut, and I’d told my friend that I was at a 6 on the pain scale. I had popped another half Tylenol 3 by this time, too.

When my hair was done, my hairdresser instructed me on the best way to get back to the BART station. She suggested that since it was a lovely warm day, that I just walk the one mile back instead of dealing with the fubar bus system. I waffled at first, wondering if the just-recently managed pain would flare again. My hairdresser suggested I just hail a cab if the pain returned. I gave her a hug and set off into the unusually warm San Francisco day.
On the corner, I ducked inside the Out Of The Closet thrift store for a few minutes, before deciding I was far too distracted on the pain meds to pay any real attention to detail, so I set back off again, walking.

A half-mile into my walk, which was thankfully on a slight downhill step, I paused to get some photos of my hair (which you see above). After photoing myself, I felt a presence behind me, so I turned. There was this tall man, standing mere inches from me, and more to the point my backpack on my back. He turned away suddenly and began muttering to himself. He shifted on his feet, stumbled back a few steps, and lingered for a moment, looking at me out the corner of his eye.
I just glared at him, took a “I am going to KICK your ass” stance, and began swinging my very large, wide, heavy aluminum water bottle. He turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner.

This experience of course set off an adrenaline rush, which allowed me to walk the rest of the way to the BART station. When I got on the train, I was exhausted and drip-sweating. I refused to take off my hoodie, though. I stood the whole ride home, preferring to look like a speed freak, drip sweating and darting my eyes around, so people would leave me the hell alone.

When I got off the train, I waited for maybe 10 minutes before my husband arrived to pick me up. I thought I could go home at this point, but he reminded me that we were to visit his dad in the rehab center he’d just been moved to the previous day.

I ate a protein bar, got some hot lemon-ginger brew from the local free-trade coffee and tea house, and popped more ibuprofen, and we set off for the rehab center to visit dad.

Admiring a new iPad

Admiring a new iPad


 

His wife also came to visit him in the rehab center, but left after eating a meal in front of her husband that she knew he a) wanted and b) could not have due to his diabetes restrictions. Her total visit was about half an hour. I wanted to strangle her. But that’s another story for another time.

After a couple of hours, we told dad we’d hunt down his lost glasses at the dialysis center, and then we were off to dinner. The center was closed, so we’ll have to return again next week. We ate some sushi at the local hole-in-the-wall we love so much, and then returned home for the night, where I hung out on the couch with the heating pad, finally.

It was a rough night. I woke several times with gushing and pain. I stained my bed clothes, I am bleeding so heavily. I woke again this morning and had to take 600mg Ibuprofen and half a Tylenol 3 off the bat. I’ve been on the couch with a heating pad the entire time.

No idea what I’ll be able to accomplish today, though we do have to get our taxes done, so I guess I’ll start organising all my schooling receipts.

Today is Day 3 of george, Day 2 of pain at or above 6 on the pain scale, but most importantly, my third cycle where I have not (yet) been bedridden. Hope abounds.

I bicycled! And other updatey stuff

Despite having cramps this morning, I did not want to chance taking my car to work, and I had forgotten again to see if there was a quick bus to my workplace…so I bicycled to work. This is the first time in 134 days that I have bicycled! It felt so good. Granted, I live only a mile from my job, but still, any exercise is good exercise. The weather has finally turned from constant winter rain to unseasonably warm and sunny; yesterday it got up to 83°F and today it got up to at least 86°F, so there was no excuse not to bike to work.

Speaking of exercise, I’ve been weight lifting again. Don’t get excited – they’re only 3lb weights. But as I said, any exercise is good exercise. I typically do the weights before bedtime, but I’m trying to get better at lifting when I wake up in the morning, too.

This month has been stressful for three reasons:

  • I’ve been sick all month
  • My father-in-law’s been in the hospital and just underwent a Transmetatarsal Amputation on Monday of this week
  • A classmate who wanted to work with me on the thesis project for graduation has not done anything useful, and I have to fire her.
  • Mercury turned Retrograde yesterday.

 

I detailed my getting sick in this post. I felt like I was getting worse, not better, on that day, but instead of starting in on a new pack of antibiotics, I decided to give it a few more days, since my doctor said the z-pack was supposed to have benefit for 5 days after the last pill. I just didn’t want to have to get a yeast infection. I have enough going on down there as it is with the endo.
I’m still coughing up junk, but not as much. I’m still needing what’s left of my inhaler once a day, usually in the morning. My ears are still clogged and the left ear is still painful, but not all day long anymore. So I guess I’m getting better…

Around about March 25, my arse started bleeding again. Same as it ever was, always a week before my period. It lasts a few days and happens during bowel movements, and then stops.

This week my symptoms were near-debilitating low back pain on Tuesday, and intermittent uterine cramping throughout the day on Wednesday and Thursday. Then last night I went to bed with the heating pad, woke with worsening cramps at 3:30am, took a half Tylenol 3, and went back to bed with the heating pad. This morning when I got up for work, I had moderate low back pain and the pelvic pain was about a 4 on the pain scale.
I kept forgetting to take ibuprofen all damned day, but after biking to work, I felt like I was more limber throughout the day. So that’s excellent.

Regarding my stress level…my father-in-law spent February in the hospital and then in physical therapy rehab after having his left toe amputated. Five years ago, he had his right toe amputated. He has mismanaged his diabetes for 20+ years, and is now shocked that he’s losing digits. When, two weeks after being discharged from rehab he was back in the hospital with another gangrene toe on the left foot, all hell broke loose (again) with his wife.
She told him he can’t come home until he can properly care for himself. Then she went on a previously planned vacation with her son and wasn’t back in time for her husband’s surgery. The surgery was a much agonised-over foot amputation.

His wife got back the day he had surgery, showed up at the hospital once he was out of the recovery room, and then fled in a hissy fit a couple of hours later. I’m the one to thank for that, because I got tired of her talking about him as though he wasn’t in the room with us, bitching about how he doesn’t take care of himself and it’s all his fault he’s back here again (not entirely true – he has a calcified artery in his leg, so no amount of dietary management or exercise was going to stop the toes from dying. She even told me earlier in the day that she was throwing out all of the “liquor”, even though he only has wine in the house. I tried to explain that his occasional glass of wine isn’t what set all this off but she wouldn’t have it.

Sure, yeah, it’s still his fault over time due to gross mismanagement of his illness, but he didn’t do it in the past two weeks as she keeps claiming). Anyway, I told her she and he need to work this out, it’s not for me and my husband to figure out for them. And apparently that’s talking down to her and I was told, “You can’t talk to me like that!” and she fled. Left her husband there, eyes welling with tears. Refused to answer her phone for roughly 15 hours. Wasn’t at the house when we drove by after hanging out in the hospital awhile longer.

I found out later that she’d had a previous marriage and that the guy was an alcoholic who literally drank himself to death. So it seems she’s having a giant triggering flashback that she can’t escape, and she’s projecting her previous marriage partner onto her current partner. Wow, serious mental issues, there. I’m told she refuses to do therapy. The way she freaked out when I said they need to work on their stuff kinda indicates her refusal towards therapy. I dunno. I don’t actually want to talk to her again for awhile.

The other stress I’ve had revolves around continuing homework and internship responsibilities, and the classmate who wanted to work with me on the thesis but who has barely done anything at all towards it. I’m going to see what she produces for the seminar next weekend and then fire her if she doesn’t have enough to show for. Ugh. Hate it. But she can’t take the credit for all my work. I won’t let her.

In the food and drink department, preceding this menstrual cycle, I have imbibed on wine, port and nigori to the point of drunkenness, but not anywhere near the point of making an ass out of myself. I have gorged on chocolate and cheetos – staging a rebellion I guess – I have no excuse. I know these things hurt me and I did it, anyway. I wanted comfort food to deal with everything.

Regarding the astrology thing with Mercury going retrograde – I’ve been feeling the effects of that for the past two weeks. Ugh. It becomes harder for me to control my mouth. It becomes impossible for me not to drink or spend money or in general do unwise things to my body and mind. Most people find astrology to be hogwash. That’s fine, we’re all entitled to our quirks. If you don’t like my quirk, I don’t need to hear about it. Plus, I’m PMSing. Telling me how illogical astrology is will just get you thrown into a pit of rabid weasels.
I’m probably PMSing so badly because of all the junk I’ve been putting into my body. But it’s too late, now. I just have to go through this month and hope all the damage I did isn’t long-lasting in my body tissue.

The PMS is pretty harsh. I’m extremely moody and my body temp is all over the place, but mostly I’m freezing. I just spent a day in hot weather, came home, stripped down to my underwear, and within an hour I was freezing and now I’m still freezing, even though the house is 70°F inside (it’s down to 73°F outside). I’m literally wrapped in a velour blanket. Oh and the cramps are back again, now that I’m cold. Awesome. Good thing I just ordered some leafy green saag from the local Indian restaurant. Oh yeah, spending money again. *sigh*
George will be here officially in a minute – the mucosa changed colour this afternoon.

Lastly, I don’t think I’ve experienced mittelschmerz this month. I know I said the same thing in January and went back on it, and then in February it was difficult to tell for sure because it could have either been dyspareunia or mittelschmerz, or both. This month, I was just too stressed out to remember to record whether I was having mid-cycle pain.

Sickest I’ve been in a year

I did go to work that next day on March 10, and I worked nearly the whole day before the pain decided to come back and bitch-slap me one last time. I left an hour early. So this month, I’ve only missed one day and one hour of work total on account of george, and once again I was never fully bedridden during this cycle. That’s two months in a row now!

This is really great post-op news!

Next period is April 1st (ha-ha). We’ll see how it goes. I remain hopeful.

The main complaint for this month is attack of the killer viruses.

February 28th I came down with the flu, and that was on a Monday. I went to the doctor, who listened to my lungs and remarked that he heard “crackles.” He listened again but I had a coughing fit, and that seemed to clear things up. I joked that he’d have to wait for the next build-up before determining “crackles” again.

The doctor asked if I’d had my flu shot. I said no, because I’m allergic to eggs (flu shots are created using chicken eggs, did you know?). He then suggested I try Tamiflu. I told him I have previously examined the drug and its side-effects, and decided that my sensitivity to meds, coupled with dealing with autoimmune disease, did not make it appealing to chance multiple side effects on the off chance that the flu might be lessened by one or two days.
The doctor asked what autoimmune disease I have, so I told him I have endometriosis. He looked annoyed, put down his pen, looked at me and said, “Endometriosis is not an autoimmune disease.”

My jaw dropped. I politely told him that the confirmation on this is fairly recent, so yeah, it’s actually an autoimmune disease. Meanwhile, his intern student doctor, standing to my left, murmured under his breath, “yes, it is an autoimmune disease.”

The doctor retorted angrily at me, “It is NOT an autoimmune disease!”

I thought for sure his next comments would be something about endometriosis MERELY being painful period, and why don’t I try some Midol to ease the cramps…he was at that level of condescension.

I told him “First of all, I’m the one with the disease, so I’ve done my homework, so yes, it IS an autoimmune disease, and secondly, there has been proven anomaly on chromosomes 1 & 7, WOULD YOU LIKE COPIES OF THE STUDIES, since I am subscribed to medical journals?”

The intern again quietly agreed, “it is an autoimmune disease.”

The head doctor wanted to hear none of it. Red-faced with rage, I informed him that I’d be inserting the studies into my medical file for his education.

THIS IS THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY, AND YOU ARE IN A SUPPOSEDLY DEVELOPED NATION, IN A SUPPOSEDLY HIGH-TECH DOCTOR’S OFFICE, TELLING ME WITH YOUR IGNORANCE THAT YOU ARE NOT UP ON THE LATEST MEDICAL RESEARCH?!?!?!?!

This is the second doctor’s office I have chosen in this city. I see I may have to fire this office, too. Sadly, I’m certain that all local doctor’s offices are this stupid. When I was leaving the exam room, the intern held the door for me. I smiled and quietly thanked him for backing me up. He grinned and replied that he was looking forward to the heated debate on the topic. It seemed like he was trying to tell me that he’d be in trouble for agreeing with the patient, and that it wasn’t his first run-in with the doctor. Ugh, poor intern. I sincerely hope he makes it out of med school in one piece.

When I got home from the doctor’s appointment, I called the office and told them to put it in my file that I will never see Dr. James E. Eichel again. As a matter of fact, my husband reminded me that the reason he left that doctor’s office the first time around in search of another family practice was because of Dr. Eichel’s condescending attitude.
I did a background check on him, nothing comes up. But take it from me and my husband, the guy’s a total asshole. Also, check out doctor reviews on the web – numerous people have found him to be condescending and rude.

I was so angered by this doctor telling me that my debilitating chronic illness is not in as valid a category as he feels it should be, that it has taken me 24 DAYS to write about it, and even now, this is the best verbiage I can find without using a string of expletives and then throwing something across the room.

So that was Monday, February 28. I took the whole week off of work to get better. However, by that Friday, the flu had turned into bronchitis. I was back in the doctor’s office, and again a doctor listened to my chest. By now I was seriously wheezing, too. The doctor said she heard “crackles”. Hm, this is the second time in a week that word was used, so I asked what it meant to detect “crackles.” She said it means pneumonia at worst. I asked if Dr. Eichel had put it down in my chart that he’d heard crackles back on Monday.

GUESS WHAT.

He made no mention whatsoever!

ASSHOOOLLLLLLLLLLLE!

So I was sent to the hospital for a chest x-ray. Thankfully, it came back normal. However, I was diagnosed with bronchitis and put on an inhaler.

The following Monday is when I got my period. I went to work that week, and only missed one day of work, and took it as easily as I could given the bronchitis and menstruation. I hacked a lung every day, and alarmed the students some of the time with my coughing fits. Being outside for a couple of hours each day didn’t help either, what with the cold, wet weather we’re having.

Ten days later, just as the bronchitis was clearing, I felt well enough to go dancing. We got home late, and I got about three hours of sleep, got up and went to work.

By the end of the day, I had a sinus infection. Go me. :(
Three days later, I had an ear infection.

Friday, March 18 I was back in the doctor’s office. The doctor, thankfully my preferred doctor this time (April Fredian), walked into the exam room, took one look at me, and sighed, “you got it, didn’t you.” She told me that this flu-turned-bronchitis-turned-sinus-infection is a really nasty thing she’s seeing in a third of her patients, and even she did not escape it. She estimated that I will be sick for another month and a half.
Dr. Fredian examined my lungs (clear) and my ears (left eardrum inflamed, could rupture), and my nose (more allergenic than viral). I was told all I could really do was take anti-inflammatory meds and hope my eardrum didn’t burst. She gave me codeine cough syrup and suggested I try Afrin for the allergy-ridden nose. I asked if antibiotics would help with the ear infection – she said if by Sunday my ear still hurt a lot, to get on antibiotics. I asked what kind, cuz I still had a z-pack at home. She said the z-pack would do, and then amended her prescription, saying if my ear still hurt by Saturday, that I had her permission to take the antibiotics.

So on Saturday, the ear still hurt, and I started the antibiotics.

Today was Day 5 of the z-pack – the last day – and dammit if the sinus infection and ear inflammation didn’t get worse. WTF.

So I’ll be back in the doctor’s office again tomorrow for further advice. I’ll be demanding ear drops or something. UGH, I just want to be well again.

March 17 was 90 days post-op, and I had promised myself by March 1st I’d be back in the gym again, toning up after all that downtime from surgery. And BAM instead I get a month of wheezing and staggering amounts of lung and sinus butter. I cannot believe the head and chest can produce so much phlegm. It’s disturbing.

Oh, to go back to endo for a moment – my husband and I were intimate on March 20 and I did experience dyspareunia afterwards, but it didn’t last more than a couple of hours. It was sharp, intermittent pain – the type I thought would get worse and last for days as usual. But it didn’t! YAY!

Going back to the ear infection – yesterday I was so depressed by not being able to get back into the gym that I literally cried.
The ear pain got so bad today that I had to plug my left ear for the last hour at work, and I felt like crying from the resonating noise (I work in a preschool in daycare mode this week, so you know it’s anything but quiet).

I got home and took Tylenol 3. I’ve been in a stupor ever since, but at least I’m dissociated from the screaming tinnitus (both high and low drone pitch simultaneously in both ears, plus the pounding eardrum pain in the left ear).

That’s all I’ve got. Great news on the endometriosis – keeping that in mind through this depressing flu season crap.

And we’re already into mittelschmerz

The last day of george was February 13. There had been nearly no bleeding overnight from the 12th to the 13th, and then the cramps and bleeding ramped up by 9:30am.
I still went out of the house despite the pain, and an acquaintance helped me return the rental car I’d gotten for the weekend seminar. I came home and took a whole Tylenol 3. The pain radiated down the inner side of my thighs almost to my knees. I was nauseous. The pain reached 7.5 on the pain scale.

This of course proved to be the “last gasp” as we call it – the bleeding and pain abated by late afternoon and then I spotted on the 14th and 15th.

The good news of the February menstrual cycle is that I was not bedridden at all!
The bad news of the February menstrual cycle is that had the pain struck me on a week day as opposed to the weekend, I still would have missed two days of work, because the pain was above a 6 on the pain scale and required narcotic medication to treat.

Eight days later, like clockwork, mittelschmerz (mid-cycle pain, a.k.a. ovulation) occurred and lasted for two days. The symptoms consisted of sharp, intermittent stabbing pain in the uterus and left ovary (that damned left ovary!!!), which lasted for hours. On February 22, I took half a Tylenol 3 before bed. On February 23, I took 600mg of Ibuprofen before bed. The pain lessened but was still present (less stabby) on February 24 (today). It’s difficult for me to know if the pain would have been less sharp, because on February 21 and 22, I was intimate with my husband (funny how ovulation and an increase in libido happen at the same time, huh? ;). It could be the dyspareunia OR the mittelschmerz OR both. I’m special that way.

So the bad news is:

  • The pain still got to 7.5 on the pain scale, which is unacceptable.
  • I continue to have mittelschmerz.
  • I continue to have dyspareunia.

 

Still, I am excited about what promise the March menstrual cycle holds. Each month my body recovers from surgery means hope that the really bad pain has been ameliorated by surgery. Hope is strong. Only at six months post-op am I allowed to throw in the towel with the hope that surgery worked. I am fully aware of the statistics of actual pain relief amongst endometriosis sufferers with surgery, and by that I mean I know full well that our numbers are low. But I am not one to give up so easily.

I am hoping with this next paycheck on February 26th that I can start up the acupuncture and massage treatments again. My masseuse also has endometriosis. She got a hysterectomy and had no relief even after that! She went to massage school and also had massage therapy on herself. What ultimately helped to relieve her pain was PUSH therapy. My masseuse is certified in Swedish massage, acupressure, Shiatsu, sports massage, deep tissue massage, reflexology, Dynamic Reposturing, and PUSH Therapy.

I also need to get back on the bicycle again. I’ve been a weather wuss, which is hilarious because when I lived in Michigan, I bicycled in 48°F weather all the time. The rain is another issue, I have never liked to bicycle in the rain.

Challenges to continue working on: omit alcohol, sugar and chocolate intake entirely.

Second Laparoscopy: Day 45 – 52

So what I’ve been doing is keeping a running log of tidbits from my day, thinking that later each day, I would expound further and make a good narrative journal entry for you. And then it wouldn’t happen. So the next day, I’d type up some tidbits from that day, hoping to put it in more readable narrative…etc. And what you get instead is me being way behind and playing catch up.

Day 45
Monday, January 31, 2011

Day 5 of my return to work. I don’t recall the order of the day. The big news that day happened when we got home and got a call from my husband’s step-mother, saying his dad was in the hospital again due to complications from Type II Diabetes. His left foot had swelled up, and he had to have his left big toe amputated. Now he has no more big toes. His right toe was amputated back in July, 2005.

My husband endured a long rant from his step-mother, and looked depressed when the call ended. He said, “I seriously wonder if he’ll be able to ever walk again after this.”

That’s not all – father’s wife is screaming divorce because she’s tired of him not taking care of himself. It’s been going on for over 20 years.

Day 46
Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Day 6 of my return to work. I wore slacks again, and no, the belly button wasn’t any happier – 46 days after surgery!!!

I was stressed out at work, and had little water intake because I forgot to take my water bottle to work with me, and it was my first day of recording the childrens’ work. Recording entails walking around the classroom with a clipboard and noting what the children are working on, checking their work with a Three Period Lesson, and noting on the clipboard next the activity whether the child has mastered it, needs to redo it, or is just having a sensorial experience with it.
The class usually has 20 children, and at any time, three or four of them are tapping me on the shoulder or arm while I sit with another child, or they’re calling out across the room when they’re not supposed to. Then there’s four to six children playing instead of working at any given time, whom I have to continually resettle. It was a very busy day.

That night, we visited my husband’s father in the hospital.
I experienced sharp ovarian pain on the right side as we walked down the corridor to my father-in-law’s hospital room – this was after climbing stairs – and I had just told my husband that I was fine to climb stairs, since I had been active at work.
It’s a workout to do Head, Shoulders Knees And Toes every day, along with squatting down and getting back up again several times a day to check children’s work…in Montessori, many children work with materials on the floor.

We visited probably for an hour, and my husband’s father seemed not to be too put out that he’d just lost his other big toe. He talked about the trip to Alaska he wants to take this year, and refused to discuss serious matters of his health – you know – reality.

When we got back home from visiting my father-in-law in the hospital, I mentioned online about my crazy mood swings I’ve been having since surgery, and an endo sister suggested I try taking Zomig. I don’t have any Zomig, but it does have the ingredient 5-HT in it. I took a 5-HTP supplement, instead.

Within an hour, my tummy was burning and nauseous, and I had moderate indigestion all the way up the esophagus.

Note to self: 5HTP contains sulfites and B vitamins. You know you can’t take B vitamins because it upsets your tummy.

I took a shower, and discovered that the first scab had fallen out. It looks burnt to a crisp, just like last time. My scabs didn’t fall out til around Day 61 last time.

Right before bed, I experienced sharp pain towards the left side – it was more uterine in nature this time.

So, now I have to go back on what I said in my last post – I had said I did not experience Mittelschmerz, but actually, I think it was just a bit late – Day 10 of the new cycle instead of Day 8.

Yeah. I still get Mittelschmerz. :(

Day 47
Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Day 7 of my return to work. It was my second day of recording the students as they worked, and I was still running around all frazzled, trying to keep up. No pain that I can remember – no notes about pain so I must have had a pain-free day!

Day 48
Thursday, February 3, 2011

Day 8 of my return back to work. We had Chinese New Year celebrations and only half an hour of work period, but I recorded what I could for the head teacher. I came home from a good day at work but the moment I got home, I was full of angst the likes I haven’t seen since I was in my early 20s.

I realised that it is because I am sick to death of LOOKING and DRESSING like a preschool teacher five days a week, and coming home every day with songs from The Wiggles or Dora or some such stuck in my head. I also realised I was PMSing.

Day 49
Friday, February 4, 2011

Day 9 of my return back to work. It was my last day shadowing the person who is leaving that room to work in the classroom I was moved from.

That night, I went dancing! I wore a corset! Sadly, no pix. My husband is really bad about that, and well he’s been depressed about his dad being in the hospital. That night, I blew out my right knee while dancing, and had to ice it right there in the club. The staff were FANTASTIC about coming to my aid – they didn’t have to do that but they did. To my fellow endo sisters, I know you understand when I say the blown out knee pain was HILARIOUS compared to what we normally go through. I iced it for a bit and went back dancing!

I must note for posterity that I did drink alcohol that night. Alcohol is known to be a bad actor for endometriosis, so it’s something I need to stop consuming. I struggle with this.

Day 50
Saturday, February 5, 2011

Sharp right knee pain. I got up after only 6 hours or so of sleep and went to have my blood drawn again (still dealing with follow-up to Dec. 28 high eosinophil crap). From there, I went over to a sports shop and bought another knee brace. ACE bandages don’t take care of the pain anymore – I have congenitally misaligned knees, so over the years, the pain has just gotten more annoying. Stretchy knee braces don’t take care of the pain anymore, either. So I bought a cool knee brace with hinges. It worked superb! I wore it all day and my knee felt SO MUCH BETTER by the end of the day!

And then the depressing news – I also experienced sharp pain on my left side – ovarian area – after eating breakfast (frozen mango, frozen banana, goat milk yoghurt, gluten-free vanilla extract, cardamom, cinnamon for a nice smoothie, and two gluten-free waffles with cream cheese).

Meh.

Day 51
Sunday, February 6, 2011

Intimacy with husband the night before resulted in pelvic pain that morning. We’re not doing anything fancy or kinky, mind you, and I’m still getting pain pretty much every time. I was told by my last surgeon that surgery won’t change that – I have dyspareunia and that’s just how it is. I had asked my current surgeon to please fix my retroverted uterus during the December surgery, as I’m convinced that it accounts for the dyspareunia and for some of the pelvic pain during menstruation, but she said there’s no easy fix to a life-long retroverted uterus. She said that the tendons or whatever it is that connects the uterus to the bladder and other organs would become to strained or weakened if she lifted the uterus up and clamped it into proper positioning. She said it would result in even more pain for me. I have to trust her on that, since she’s performed hundreds of surgeries for endometriosis and pelvic conditions. She’s probably seen the gamut.

The day started off great – I woke before the alarm, ate breakfast, showered, and went to my Alexander Technique class. The panic attack wanted to happen the moment I drove off towards the appointment.
WHY.
My hands were shaking. I couldn’t breathe. I felt the flutter in my throat. I took .5mg lorazepam on the way to class, and when I got out of my car, I thought for sure I was going to faint, so I took another .5mg lorazepam.
I got to my class and was the only one for a bit. I was honest with my instructor that I was not emotionally well grounded that day for some reason. Class began, and two more filtered in and joined the conversation – all of us regulars – all people I’m comfortable with. Then halfway through the class, a staff member opens the door and asks if a new patient could be admitted to class. This is where the session went downhill. This woman made the conversation all about her, and was verbally defiant and combative the entire time with the instructor. The other three of us may as well have ceased to exist. I began doing my breathing exerises. I dissociated and put myself into a fixed state, staring down my nose at the floor, just focusing on breathing so I would not have a panic attack and lash out at this horrible beastly woman who kept saying, “I can’t do this. I can’t do that. I want you to teach me how to properly sit so I can play flute and not be in pain. I can’t do what you are asking me to do. I want you to help me.”

Back and forth. UGH.

When the class ended, I bolted.

I got home and locked my keys in my car, I was so frazzled after that class. I mailed two bills by walking to the mailbox on the corner, came home, and my husband gave me a spare key to go get my keys out of my car.

I got back home and started sorting laundry. I left the room to go through my closet to double-check whether more clothes need to be pared down, came back to the living room, and saw my cat actively sniffing around on the laundry piles on the floor. This cat has a bad history of peeing on my stuff since November 2009 so my heart sank. I knelt down and began to go methodically through my clothes. I found four pair of underwear and a work shirt, all damp from my cat having just peed on them. WHY. WHY.

My husband guessed that perhaps we’re not keeping the litter box clean enough again. This was all I could take for the day, and I feel immediately into a black depression. My posture slumped. My face fell. My eyes glazed over. It was 72F outside for an unseasonably warm February weekend, and emotionally, I was not up to it.

After I threw away the underwear and shirt, I bagged up the remaining laundry and took it out back to the laundry room. Then I took some crocheted blankets (two are from a thrift store, and one is from a friend) to the laundrymat because I like the front loader machines better for such delicate washing. I tossed in some scarves and my Dickens Fair skirt I had made in 2009 and had worn again in 2010.

When I returned to the laundrymat to retrieve my items, I found that everything reeked of mothball.

WHY!   WHAT THE HELL!   HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?   Was it one of the thrift blankets? Was it the washer I chose?
I hung up all my items when I got home. Airing out was good enough for most of the items, but a scarf and a thrift store blanket still reeked horribly, so I washed them twice by hand with baking soda, vinegar and oxobrite cleaner.

I had already been deeply depressed over my cat peeing on my stuff again, and then the mothball chemical assault happened. I’ve refused to eat or do homework all day. I did another load of laundry here at the house, but that was it. Even as I sat here typing this out, I was hunched over. My stomach was hurting. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to just go away.

8:19pm update:
I think I got the mothball smell out of everything except for our tartan scarf. :( I’ll keep trying at that before giving up, though.
There are two culprits now – the green crocheted blanket I got from the thrift store, and the purple microfiber blanket I just bought from the neighbor last night. Two different smells at that! The green one is the mothball and the purple one smells like a dog or cat had urinated on it at some point and it was incorrectly washed and dried. This makes a good argument for me never getting thrift store or yard sale blankets ever again.
I’m wondering how sick I’ll become now that I’ve exposed myself to nasty mothball fumes all day. One day I’ll learn to just flee the situation or throw the offending items away instead of trying to save things. ugh.

Day 52
Monday, February 7, 2011

Continued pelvic pain from late Saturday night’s intimacy.
Lots of intestinal gas noises, and pressure on the low back extending to rectum. This is “normal” pre-menstrual activity. Alas.
I awoke around 4am and finally got up to use the bathroom around 4:30am. I took .5mg lorazepam. I was never able to get back to true sleep after that. I hit snooze on the alarm four times, being stubborn about getting out of bed. I was exhausted and I still had a whole day ahead of me.

I got through the day but had to take 600mg Ibuprofen gel-caps by 9am to get through the day, because of low uterine pain. I seriously had to go check to see if I’d started bleeding, the cramps were strong enough. I’d wager about a 4 on the pain scale.

Postscript:
My first surgery was February 1, 2007 and I never did get any pain relief from that surgery. That’s why I had the second surgery on December 17, 2010. Both surgeries were electrocoagulation type Laparoscopy. I wanted excision surgery this time around, but my surgeon told me that the latest research out there shows that both excision and electrocoagulation have benefit. She prefers electrocoagulation but will not hesitate to do excision where necessary. The bulk of what I ended up “needing” was electrocoagulation, according to my 2010 surgery report.

I’m nearly two months post-op now, and I am just getting back into my regular old mobility mode. I’m due for a period on February 11, so we’ll see if the pain comes back or what. I have been experiencing symptoms (alternating ovarian stabbing pain), and I still have the pain with sex (but I’m told that’s a different diagnosis altogether – dyspareunia).

For medication, my cocktail is Tylenol 3 and Ibuprofen gel-caps. I have tried all the NSAIDs, I have tried opiates and narcotics all the way up to Dilaudid and back again. I have tried medical marijuana. The only thing that helps dull the pain with minimal side effects to me is the Tylenol 3 and Ibuprofen.

For pain management, there is yoga, and also the Alexander Technique. I like bicycling, dancing and roller skating, but I cannot do these things when the pain hits.

I went back to not eating pork, beef and other red meats, as well as fowl. I’m vegetarian plus fish, now, though I also omit crustaceans because they are said to set off the pain, too, and in my case, it held true. :/

I have a whole list of foods I avoid on my No Fly List, and then there’s the vitamins and supplements list.

I am hoping that with each month post-op, the pain relief will increase. That’s where I’m at…

Second Laparoscopy: Day 23 post-op

Sunday, January 9, 2011

It was my husband’s 40th birthday, and he had planned to go to breakfast and then wine tasting all day. I had recently gotten news that my car was leaking brake fluid, so the driving was left up to my husband – unless we rented a car for me to drive. Upon checking, none of the car rental places save for the airport were open on a Sunday. I was ready to pursue this angle, but commented that my husband would have to pay for the rental, since I’ve been out of work for almost a month.

His reply was that if it was okay with me, he’d like to take our chances with my car.

I was NOT happy. I protested. I grumbled. I caved in. I remained NOT HAPPY.

I drove him to breakfast, and two friends joined us. I was very delighted to be able to hold down leaded coffee with cream, a scramble consisting of home fries, tomatoes, spinach, green onions and cow’s milk cheese. I also had some sliced bananas to go with the almond-milk vanilla pudding I’d brought with me in the event that I could not eat anything on the menu. Quite a yummy brekkie I had!

The birthday boy surrounded by friends!

The birthday boy surrounded by friends!

The birthday boy with friend and wife!

The birthday boy with friend and wife!


 

We sussed out wine tasting route and caravan plans, and off we went. On our way back to the car, my husband stepped in dog poop. To ensure his entire day was not ruined, I took the job of jovial and optimistic and helpful Wife. Sticking his boot in mud encased the poop for the short term, until he could address the issue later. Disaster averted, but ooops, we lost one of our caravan to impatience. We tried to warn her that the first winery was difficult to get to…

As expected, we and our friend who did follow behind us got to the winery with no sign of friend #2.
Good Wife phoned friend #2, who was in an agitated panic over being lost, and calmly guided her to me as I walked perhaps a third of a mile. Once retrieved, I hopped into her car and guided her to the parking lot, allowing her to vent in her red-headed way that I so often do myself (being a red head).
I was even able to convince her, after a few drinks, to join us in my car for further wine tasting. I got my exercise in for sure – getting into and out of my go-kart of a car all day and walking to and from wineries. I was moderately tired all day. The day was beautifully sunny, even though it was still very cold for me. The wind did not help matters. I do not thrive in 50°F weather. I’m comfortable in upper 60s to low 70s. That’s my range.

We didn’t die that day. No brake failure, which of course made me feel SUPER guilty for bailing on my teacher seminar the day before.

Firsts for Day 23:

  • I drove my car all day, getting into and out of car repeatedly.
  • My face and neck did not rash out with all the red wine and port I was trying, and I had not taken a Benadryl!

 

Complications:

  • I experienced stabbing, searing bladder pain/urgency whenever my bladder was full. This was possibly due to sulfites in the wines I was tasting.
  • I was still experiencing loose stool from the previous day’s coconut oil overdose.
  • Since I am no longer in continual pain, I forget that there are things I still cannot do without causing pain; jumping, hip-checking car door or the front door to make sure it’s closed.

 

What I did for pain management was sit down often. I noticed that when standing at a bar, I stand to one side and sort of lean into the bar. Being post-op, this hurt a lot, and yet I could not stop myself from assuming that stance. So I would find a folding chair and sit down away from the bar. This meant I did not get the full range of wine tasting, but I rarely go for the whole range, anyway. I’m very partial to only certain reds.

January Birthday buddies wine tasting as I sit and rest.

January Birthday buddies wine tasting as I sit and rest.


 

After we got back into town and dropped our friend off at her car, we headed home to drop off some goodies my husband had purchased on our wine tasting trip, and then we went out to dinner. We were starving, and to my happy joy, there was something on the menu that I could eat Рbaked salmon with mashed potatoes and saut̩ed spinach! It was divine.

Birthday dinner with hubby at Speisekammer

Birthday dinner with hubby at Speisekammer


 

The day ended on a sour note when we arrived home and I went to use the bathroom and stepped in cat pee. I began the usual line of questioning – was it because we had a friend over on Saturday who owns big dogs? Is my cat’s renal condition worsening? Was he mad at us for being gone for long stretches of time over the weekend? Does he have a bladder infection?
Alas. Only thing to do was to clean up the pee and monitor the cat’s behaviour again. Never a happy job. We’d gone weeks before he started up again. It’s always something different it seems.

Second Laparoscopy: Day 22 post-op

Saturday, January 8, 2011

I have lost about 7lbs since surgery, because I was on the BRAT diet for an extended time due to continuing digestive tract issues after surgery. I am convinced these lingering issues are because my mesentery received blunt force trauma at time of surgery.

I think that part of my problem with bending forward and the pain kicking back up is because of the loose flesh from the weight drop. I tried wearing a back support belt in hopes of improving mobility, but all it served to do was irritate my abdominal muscles further.

It does not help the fact that I drank alcohol again the night previous, to the point of getting drunk. I did not black out, but this is the third time in a week that I had consumed alcohol. First it was just a few ounces on New Year’s Eve, then it was a glass and a half of wine and two or three drinks at the Tiki bar for a friend’s birthday, and then last night it was three strong vodka and 7-Up drinks at another friend’s birthday party. If the alcohol isn’t bad enough, I broke my “no corn syrup” rule with the 7-Up.

I was supposed to attend a teacher seminar but I was not feeling up for it, and I did not want to drive my car, because I’d just found out a few days earlier that it was leaking brake fluid. I’d taken the car in to get a low tire looked at – turns out there was a nail in the tire…AGAIN. And then they found the leaking brake fluid.

Anyway, I was not feeling up to going to the teacher event. I was really tired (likely due to being hungover), and I was melancholy because it was the death date of my cousin Andy, who died seven years ago in a fiery crash. I spent the day creating a photo memorial for my cousin, and continuing work on the first semester teacher self-evaluation, which apparently consists of 98735087435023948753 questions.

Diet-wise, I put myself back on the BRAT diet, because of the stupid hangover. Ugh.

Saturday night, my friend Elezar came over – he’d just flown in earlier that day for work, and so I told him to come join us for dinner. When my husband got home from an all-day gaming event with his friends, we all walked over to , where more friends greeted us. We gave my husband a very nice pre-birthday dinner party. To my absolute glee, I was able to stuff my face with sushi and not have any ill consequence. HOORAY for room in the gut finally returning! HOORAY for things healing up inside!

After dinner, we walked up the street to our favourite ice cream joint, and I tested the waters with some cow’s milk ice cream and two lactaid pills. Sadly, I still get stomach gurgles and had to pass a lot of gas. I didn’t have much hope that the lactose intolerance would have gone away with the so-called gastrointestinal reboot from surgery. :/

Once we finished our ice cream, we all parted ways, and I wanted to fall into bed after such a long day, but that was sadly not an option for me. See, it was my husband’s birthday weekend, and he had plans to go to see Rocky Horror Picture Show. Everybody else had bailed…and that left just me. So we went.

We stood in the near freezing cold for over a half an hour to get in the theatre. When I say near freezing cold, I mean it – it’s not just me being a whiny Californian. It was roughly 36°F outside, and I had on a knee-length skirt with stripey tights and Converse shoes, which have no proper insulation on the soles. I swear I thought my feet and toes were going to get frostbitten. They really did sting!

When we finally gained admittance to the theatre, it took another half hour before everything got started and all the show virgins were dealt with.
I was cold, uncomfortable, and tired. But I did remember a few lines and I did laugh several times, so it wasn’t all bad.

I cannot even remember what time we got home – I pretty much dove into bed and slept.

Medication-wise, I do not think I took any meds that day.

Exercise for that day – I will say shivering to death for most of the day counted, cuz seriously, I was starving again after the Rocky Horror show. I’d shivered so much that I’d burnt up all the calories!

Second Laparoscopy: Day 18 post-op

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

I woke up at 6:45am and got ready for a psychiatric appointment. Since I had been out with my husband last night, this meant that I got 6 hours of sleep when I’d been so used to 8 solid hours, so I was really tired.

Outside it was so cold that there was frost on my car windows. I’m glad I’ve kept my snow scraper with me all these years after having moved from Michigan! It came in real handy that day.

After scraping ice off half the windshield

After scraping ice off half the windshield


 

It doesn’t snow at ground level in the Bay Area, but every winter does bring some frost on the ground and on the cars. After scraping and warming up my car, I successfully drove to my appointment, but was late because parking was stupid. The meters in two out of the three places I tried to park were not working correctly. Finally I parked and went inside the building. They have an elevator, so I used that rather than brave the stairs first thing in the morning. My mid back was already stiff and sore from getting into my little Neon, driving, and getting out of the car again. Any time I have to twist side to side for anything, the pain ramps back up again.

My psychiatrist still wants me to try Abilify. She’s been pushing this on me since September, 2010 and I’ve been too afraid to try it because of all the side effects. She offered to get me an even smaller prescription dose than she gave me in September (which is still sitting in the cabinet), and she said while I’m off work already, this should be the best time to try the Abilify to see if I will have side effects.

My rationale states that I want to be alert to any possible surgical side effects FIRST. I don’t want to try to figure out if my mood or whatnot is caused by EITHER surgery OR the Abilify. Too much on my plate, y’know?

After I got out of the psychiatry appointment, I decided to take the stairs down instead of using the elevator. There were three flights of stairs. I took it slowly, but by the time I reached the bottom, sure enough I had pelvic cramping going on.

When I got home, despite being in pain, I wanted to get some housework done, so I tackled laundry. I slowly loaded up my laundry basket with two loads’ worth of dirty clothes, and then scooted the basket over to a waiting luggage cart. I finagled the basket up onto the luggage cart and secured it, then towed the laundry basket out to the back of the house where the laundry room is.

After the first load washed and I had put it into the dryer and the second load into the wash, I took a nap, because all of that had worn me out. I set out 600mg Advil and a half Tylenol 3 for the pain, but then refused to take the meds all day because I’m stubborn like that.
I slept for nearly an hour.

After my nap, I was still really tired, but I brought in my laundry and just let it sit (folded) in the basket. I threw myself together to go join a friend for her birthday dinner. We were late, which made me feel bad, but it all worked out. She was at a Mediterranean restaurant, and since I still have not reintroduced solid meat to my diet, there was very little I could eat. The waiter cobbled together a vegetable plate for me, consisting of sliced asparagus and bell peppers, and I used those to dip into the Hummus. I also drank red wine for the first time since before surgery. I was happy to have the wine because my social anxiety was spiking again. There were only five of us for dinner, but still, I felt very awkward socially.

To my glee, I did not have any major digestive problems with the vegetables or the wine! Yay! The bell peppers usually give me heartburn, but even that was minor on that night. Awesome.

Our friend left to go off to a dancing class, and we paid her bill, being that she was the birthday girl. We then got back to our car and my husband drove us over to Forbidden Island Tiki Bar, where we met up with two more friends who had secured an area for our birthday girl. We hung out and had drinks – I drank an Exotica (Coffee liquor and other flavours in a martini glass), a Chamborlada (Chambord and Pina Colada), and part of my friend’s birthday Fugu drink that she could not finish. That was enough to get me pretty tipsy, nay, drunk. Thankfully, not a sloppy or embarrassing drunk. Chatty, yes. Having fun, yes. It was a good night.

At Forbidden Island Tiki Bar for a friend's birthday

At Forbidden Island Tiki Bar for a friend's birthday


 

We got home around midnight and I went immediately to bed after consuming a pint of water. I had to be up the next day for my post-op appointment in San Francisco.

Firsts for Day 18:

  • Drove alone on my own to Oakland and back – stiffness and soreness returned.
  • Did my own laundry, using a luggage cart to haul the basket.
  • Worked on some homework.

 

Limitations:

  • Still having pain with climbing stairs and driving.
  • Lifting anything over 5lbs is still painful.

 

Complications:

  • Still having thick mucous vaginal discharge – doesn’t smell foul anymore. Is likely ovulation.

Second Laparoscopy: Day 16 post-op

I slept until 10am – another eight hour night before my body was too sore to stay in bed. Actually I should say my body is sore by the 6 hour mark, but I am stubborn and keep going back to bed until it’s been 8 hours. Oh how I love 8 hours of sleep.

The first thing I did when I got out of bed was spend about 20 minutes walking around the house and doing gentle stretches.

Today I cleaned up some papers and such on the kitchen table, but I didn’t get my ass out of the house until after 4pm. The weather was cold, overcast and windy – I think it only got up to 50°F today, and it sprinkled throughout the day.

My husband and I got some pet supplies for the cats, and then we went for a short walk behind the shopping center, which has a sidewalk overlooking the estuary (which flows into the San Leandro Bay). There are observation decks one can climb up to in order to get a better look at a view of the estuary and the Oakland hills. I climbed a bit faster than I had done yesterday, and coming back down the stairs, I was able to go at my normal pace. I did so giggling with delight.

However, less than a hundred feet later, I began to get stabbing uterine pains and had to slow my walking pace. I adjusted and picked up my pace again, but I still struggled with the pelvic pain. My husband stopped into a game store to ask a game console question, and while I stood there waiting, the pain reached a 5 on the pain scale.

When we got back to the car, I took 600mg of Ibuprofen. I’ve been fatigued ever since. I spent the rest of the night on the couch taking it easy, which sucks, because I had wanted to try going to a nightclub for the first time since before surgery.

Food I ate today:
Leftover Indian (Saag Paneer)
Gluten-free freezer pancakes
Boost drinks
Rice Chex cereal
Homemade macaroon a friend had made
20oz of water
Coconut juice

Note:
The foul smell abated some and the bloody discharge went away overnight, but late this afternoon I had some thick mucous discharge again. I’m wondering now if this is ovulation already. Today is about Day 6 of the new cycle, and I always get mittelschmerz on Day 8 of the new cycle. Could it be a couple of days early?

Complications:
I am still having the round of diarrhea or loose stool every morning. I’m guessing this is still a holdover from when the surgeon bumped the mesentery on the way in with the camera.

I nearly threw up tonight after eating the same kinds of food I’ve been eating; gluten-free pancakes and Boost. I also developed a headache so I took my temperature and the temporal digital read 100°F. The glass therm read 99°F. Bah, whatever.

Firsts for today:
I wore loose-fitting slacks! I looked like a dweeb, but at least I have a pair of slacks I can wear to work in the first week back, which is coming up fast.