Thirteen pills a day for ten days. Plus the regular assortment of living the gaspatch five a day pills. Clear liquids for two days. And no fun for RS for what seems like forever.
My colon knows what scares me.
and a few cantaloupes and baseballs and I’m finally starting to feel human again. Finally. I still have some minor aches, but at least I’m not in constant pain. I’m up to doing some wine drinking, light gardening and in 3 weeks the running shoes come off the shelf and RS makes an appearance with her new super hero running legs. Keep your fingers crossed.
What did I do three weeks prior during my downtime? The same thing everyone else trapped in bed and doped up on pain killers does. Shop online for shoes. These cuties are coming this way soon:
I can’t even begin to tell you how much harder this recovery has been than I expected. If they are removing the problematic organs then why does it still hurt? I don’t know, but it does. Oh well, I’m here, I’m alive and slowly, oh so slowly, I’m getting better. I’ve the whole two steps forward one step back thing going on with my body right now. It’s been two weeks since I was gutted and I’m so very ready to be better. I’m not very good at being still.
Although, recovery has been better because of all of the visitors, flowers, cakes, puddings, cupcakes, wine and wonderful get well wishes from all my favorite people. Thanks for everything – especially for looking at my tumors and guts. I love you guys to pieces!
Over five years ago I wrote a post about my uterus and the discovery of my fibroid tumors. I had two small tumors embedded in my uterine wall and one small pedunuculated tumor on the outside of my uterus. The peduculated fibroid grows from a stalk on the outside of the uterus . . . and because it’s just hanging there the tumor takes every opportunity it can to be as kinky as possible – twisting and turning and pinching and causing me all kinds of problems. They were small but still troublesome and the doctor tried this and that and this until we found something that worked and surgery was avoided and other than the occasion gerbil with sharp teeth invading my uterus, life was good again.
A few years ago I slowly started feeling really tired. All. The. Freaking. Time. I blamed it on fighting gas, getting old and gaining weight. The only logical thing to do, right?
Logical until one day not long ago I found myself in so much pain that I walked into the doctor’s office saying I’m not leaving until you find out what’s wrong with me. So, once again, I was in stirrups, staring at the ceiling and being felt up by instruments. Only this time I find out that Mr. Kinky is the size of a cantaloupe (9.8 cm) and the two embedded tumors are now baseballs and have brought few other rookies to play along.
Then with another “wham, bam thank you ma’am” I found myself in a baby blue hospital gown being rolled down a hallway by unicorns into the dark caves of Candy Mountain where I would have a hysterectomy. That was Tuesday.
And today, I remember it exactly as it happened. Aren’t drugs wonderful?
I know exactly what you are thinking? RS, you did take a camera into surgery didn’t you? Well, duh! Doesn’t everyone. And the surgeon was kind enough to oblige my need to see the multiple ginormous hunks-o-tumor I was growing.
So let’s get down to business and shun those non-believers.
They say everything is bigger in Texas. I reckon that makes everything in Gasland mega-make-believe-sized. I’d show you my stitches, but then you might tag me as porn. During the gutting process they discovered that Mr. Kinky Cantaloupe was more like Siamese grapefruit twins, the baseballs were more like racquetballs (inside the red thing know known as RS’s Former Uterus) and they discovered a surprise litter of pedunulated gerbils. What is life without surprises?
So now it’s Friday and I’m sitting here in Gasland doped up on Vicodin wondering if anything I’m typing is spelled correctly or coherent. I honestly doubt it because the meds give me double-vision. I have a real excuse this time so be nice.
For the next six weeks my running shoes will be on the shelf. Waiting. I hope when I recover fully, I start to feel better. Because right now I feel like poop. Feeling like poop doesn’t make good for anything except more poop. It seems only fair that if I can grow giant tumors, I should be able to grow some super-hero running legs. I’ll let you know how that is going in six weeks.
Alrighty then, I’m going to drift back to sleep with the soothing white noise sounds of compressors and fracking.
Oh, and in case you are wondering – having your gut ripped open and your innards pulled out – is a lot easier than fighting gas bastards.
*I reckon there needs some clarification – It’s not really a kidney. Just ask Charlie.
Internet People, do you all remember when half of America stopped reading my blog because I was voicing my opinion so much about politics and health care? Well very soon the other rest of America will stop reading my blog – just as soon as I figure out a way to put “damn, stupid, idiotic, messed up health care system” a little more eloquently. Or maybe that just sums it up right there? I’m so filled with excitement, anticipation and anger that I’m not sure how to say what’s what right now. Odd I know, since I rarely keep my mouth shut, and considering I need to liven things up around here I figure I’ll just let it all blow over the next few days and weeks.
Why? Because today I had a health care physical that lasted eight full hours. Not just any physical, but a complete preventive medical physical that SHOULD be standard practice for everyone, but is not. This was a complete mind, body and spirit physical – hush, I know what your thinking, so let me move on. Anyone who has read my blog for any length of time knows I’m a certified fruit loop and a borderline hypochondriac (okay, full-blown on some days), and the whole spirit was unique, especially since I’m the world’s biggest heathen – vibrantly and proudly heathen – I seriously have issues with organized religion. Seriously, serious folks. But this was more yogic, so we’ll call the spirit part stretching since those are basically the same thing anyhow. Shut. up.
Anyhow, the experience has left me temporarily speechless. It’s going to take a week or so for my complete assessment and results, but this is gonna be fun! Runner Susan is ready to get lusty, busty and wildly controversial again – and it’s about time, because I’ve missed me. I’ve missed me so much.
The Midol has mysteriously disappeared or someone is hiding it from me. Either way proves no good for anyone even remotely near me. That, combined with the two hours I spent shopping for a bathing suit yesterday and I’m about ready rip my arm off and sam hell beat the next person who walks by me and weighs under 120 pounds.
My plan to lose a few pounds was lost this morning. I was planning on running another half marathon – but last night we were covered with very serious thunderstorms. And this morning when I got up at 4 AM to check the weather it was still raining. No, make that pouring. I don’t do rain because I don’t do blisters. So I went back to bed. When I got up at 7:15 it had stopped raining, but I only had 15 minutes to get to the race that was an hour away. Now I’m pissed I wasted $75.00 on the registration.
So if you don’t mind, I’m going to find my way to the kitchen and eat everything that isn’t nailed down – then I’m going to and try and waddle on the treadmill for a bit before it’s time for dinner.