Stop punching me already, jeeez!

I have been dealing with a lot the past several months. I’ve been rolling with the punches, but all of my energy has been spent other ways, particularly in trying to keep my sense of humor about me, leaving zilch time to blog. Boo.

Medically, I’ve been a bit of a mess. Here’s why:

Medical Issue #1: Headaches and Numbness

I had a full blood work-up and head CT done in April because I was having headaches and facial numbness. All results came back clear (yay!) but we couldn’t figure out the cause of the numbness and headaches. I started seeing my Chiropractor to rule out tension headaches.

Which lead to Medical Issue #2: Whiplash

My chiropractor helped immensely. On a follow up visit on April 9th, I went in to see him, but he had to leave on a family emergency, so I saw another Chiropractor in the office instead. He was more aggressive with his adjustment than my Chiropractor, but I figured one adjustment wouldn’t make a big difference.

Flowers from a coworker.

The next morning, I woke up and couldn’t move. I thought maybe I had slept wrong and whacked out my body. Slowly, I was able to get up, but with a great deal of pain. I got ready for work, but couldn’t even brush my hair. I put the kids in the van and cried the whole time, it hurt so badly. I called Clint and begged him to help me unload the kids at daycare.

I drove to work (thankfully, at a doctor’s office), and crumpled onto Jenny’s floor. I begged her (which didn’t actually take much begging) to squeeze me in for an appointment. I worked for all of three hours, went to the appointment, and went home with prescriptions for muscle relaxants and pain killers. Clint came home to help me. It was so bad, I couldn’t even get off the couch by myself.

I have been in several pretty nasty car accidents. The whiplash I felt from those were nothing compared to this pain.

I slept a lot. I went to my Chiropractor and explained what had happened. He told me that he was going to have me come in and get adjusted for free for as long as it took to get me back to normal. It took almost two months.

Medical Issue #3: The Red River of Me

Lily, “Mommy, I love you. I sorry you not feeling well. Here, you can read my book.” She gently placed The Bible in my lap. Sweet girl.

I started my period on March 28th. It kept going. And going. And going. On the 14th day, I made an appointment with David. He suggested I wait just a bit longer to see if it fixed itself. He thought it could be a result of the additional stress I’d been under with my neck issue, with our house stuff, with adjusting to this new life of ours as working parents.

Seemed reasonable to me.

On Day 30 of The Red River, I saw him again. We went over my options:

  1. Take a hormone to see if it stops. (I vetoed this… hormones + Lindsay = craaaazy!)
  2. Wait. (I also vetoed this… 30 days of bleeding + Lindsay = craaaaazy!)
  3. Have an IUD inserted. (Vetoed… Clint and I both got snipped and burned for a reason, yo!)
  4. Undergo a D&C whereby David goes in, scoops out the uterus innards and I get to start with a uterine lining that’s so fresh and so clean, clean.

I voted for the procedure.

One awesome benefit of working in a doctor’s office with your doctor who is also a surgeon is that you get some stuff done super fast. My appointment with David was Friday. My D&C was scheduled for Monday.

In the midst of this, my grandma died and the funeral was scheduled for Tuesday. I anticipated going.

This leads to Medical Issue #3.5: Torn Uterus

Dr. B and me pre-procedure.

Monday morning, Clint and I headed to the hospital. I got all gowned up, had IVs inserted and was prepped. They wheeled me into the operating room. It was completely surreal to be there and not be having a baby. I started telling David a quick, funny anecdote, when the anesthesiologist slipped that blue mask over my nose and mouth. (How rude!)

I woke up what seemed like a minute later, back in my room, a nurse busying herself with removing my IVs. David stood over me and I heard, “Had to stop the procedure…” my eyes closed. I struggled to open them, to focus on his face and what he was telling me. “…hole in your uterus…” I think I talked. In my head I told him that I didn’t understand what he was saying. In my head, I wanted to ask him what it meant when he said there was a hole in my uterus. “…hysterectomy…” he said. I closed my eyes.

As I became more coherent, I learned the full story. David dilated my cervix and slowly inserted the instrument used to perform the D&C. He has done these many, many times, but said that he’s never experienced what happened. The instrument kept going. Typically, he said, there is resistance when the back of the uterus is reached. This was not the case for me. Either there was a hole there already, or my uterus is so thin that it took no effort to perforate it. Either way, there’s an issue.

I wasn’t allowed to go to my grandma’s funeral because David was concerned that I could have complications from the procedure (which really was okay… I wasn’t close to my grandma at all). He told me that he almost turned the procedure into an emergency hysterectomy, but decided against it. He referred me to see a gynecologist in town two days later.

At that appointment, I thought that the doctor was going to tell me that we would be scheduling my hysterectomy. I hadn’t exactly wanted major surgery, but by this point, I had come to terms with it and was actually really excited at the thought of not having periods or pap smears anymore.

The last time I saw one of these suckers, there were twins in mah belleh.

Instead, he performed an ultrasound and saw that I had a large cyst on my left ovary. He blamed the bleeding on that and put me on the same hormone that I didn’t want to take in the first place.

… and for good reason. Sure enough, it made me crazy. It also made me blow up like a balloon. It was so bad, I couldn’t wear pants for two weeks. While I was on it, the bleeding lessened and then stopped. After I finished it, the bleeding stayed away for all of two days and then came back.

So, I’ve been bleeding again for, oh 20 days (but who’s counting). I was originally supposed to wait to follow up with the gynecologist on July 12th, but I seriously cannot bleed for 3 more weeks without going nuts, so I will be seeing him tomorrow. I need a game plan that doesn’t involve anymore hormones.

 

Medical Issue #4: Anxiety

Because of my torn uterus, I was put on exercise restrictions for one month. During that month, I wasn’t allowed to run, have sex, do anything that would jar my uterus. In other words, my physical and mental release was taken from me. In hindsight, I should’ve known that I should find some other outlet, but I didn’t.

My anxiety escalated. I have never had major issues with anxiety, but it’s always been an undertone for sure. I suddenly couldn’t sleep, my heart raced, I was overwhelmed… it was AWFUL.

During this, an offer was made on our house, which is great, but just added to everything. I ended up having an anxiety attack at work. I’ve never felt that before and hope to never feel it again. The more I fought it, the worse it got. I felt like I was having a heart attack, like the sky was falling on my head, like I couldn’t get a deep enough breath.

Which lead to Medical Issue #5: Foot Injury

I wasn’t supposed to start running again until June 9th, but after my anxiety attack, I decided one day wasn’t going to hurt. I laced up my shoes and tried not to beat myself up over the fact that there was a bit more pudge tucked into my running pants than before.

I ran like I had never taken a day off. It sounds cliched, but I could feel the anxiety and stress melting from my body with every bead of sweat, with every step, every hill, every song that played in my ears. I ran 4.6 miles.

The next day, I was sore, but I ran again. 4.5 miles.

I told myself I was going to take a day off, because my foot and back were bugging me, but when Jenny called and asked if I wanted to run, I couldn’t say no. It is my drug. We ran 4.6 more miles. My foot really started hurting.

I didn’t run Monday and Tuesday. On our weekly Wednesday run, we took it easy, but to no avail. My foot was stabbing me. We cut the run short.

Thursday, I saw a doctor in our office. He’s a runner, too, and I valued his opinion. He recommended a specific type of orthotics and said that it sounds like it could be plantar faciitis. “You know what I’m going to tell you, don’t you?” he asked. “No running?” I cringed. He nodded. “At least a week. Maybe two.”

Dangit!

So, that’s where I’ve been. Mentally, a bit of a mess. Physically, a complete train wreck. Emotionally… well, that hasn’t been too bad, except at the height of the awfulness.

I’m a roll with the punches kind of person, but I’m ready to be done getting punched!