I’ve really had one hell of a month.
Things started out well enough. I met with a pain management doctor who not only is very reluctant to prescribe medication (which is why I was really afraid to go to a pain management clinic. I was afraid they’d throw Percocet down my throat until I was higher than a kite and then consider my pain managed. I don’t want to live like that.). He is also incredibly well versed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Anyone with EDS will understand how rare that is. I feel like erecting a statue of him in a town square because, wow. It’s just nice.
So anyway, Pain Management dude is going to implant electrodes in my spine to keep my brain from getting the OH MY GOD NERVE PAIN HOLY SHIT signals that it gets all the time. This is very, very, very exciting to me, as someone who is apparently under the “failed back surgery” umbrella. (I had three spine surgeries which in essence got me walking again, albeit with a limp and no feeling in my right leg, but my nerves are permanently impacted and constantly bringing me horrible pain.) The idea that I might be able to decrease my pain, even a little bit, has me over the moon with happiness. After my MRI, the results were in and I am a perfect candidate for a spinal implant. Yay!
In that regard, April has been a month of hope.
Then I got a call from my cancer doctor’s office. “Hey Sarah, your cancer doctor is retiring at the end of April and he wants to see you ASAP for your yearly checkup.” No big deal, I thought. Last summer began my first official year in remission after a five year battle. I expected to go in and have the ultrasound done and leave thinking, “BAM. YEAR TWO IN REMISSION! HERE I AM!” I think expecting that glorious end result made the eventual fall so much more dramatic and painful. I was diagnosed with cancer in 2010, and I’ve been fighting it every damn year up to 2016.
Of course that couldn’t be the case. He kept going to this one spot on my neck with his ultrasound wand thing and asking questions, “When was your last mammogram? Have you ever had chest x-rays?” and I just knew something was very wrong. Long story short, I left that appointment in tears, listening to the sound of my soul shatter, and clutching a chest x-ray request, a mammogram request, and a list of blood work as long as my arm that needed to be done. I’m still waiting on most results, my doctor has been happy with some of them, he’s been worried about others. Now I’m being funneled to another cancer specialist, AND my primary care doctor, who is supposed to investigate some of my worrying blood work and send me to ANOTHER specialist to see what the hell is wrong with me.
I’ve been a mess from all of this.
A. HUGE. MESS.
Today I went to my shoulder doctor, who took some x-rays and looked at my shoulders. He found bone spurs in both shoulders which are shredding some of my inner soft tissue to shreds. That’s wonderful, so today I booked my 17th (yes SEVENTEENTH) surgery. If all goes as it looks like it’s going to go, this year I will have FOUR SURGERIES. FOUR. F-O-U-R.
I am so tired. So very, very tired.
Friday I go to my knee guy to find out if there’s anything we can do to keep my stupid patella from moving all the time. He’s been pushing surgery as well, so we shall see on that front.
So that’s basically been my month. It has been very, very hard on me physically and mentally. Mixed into that is my kid biting through her tongue, my house being flooded with natural gas, and more exciting things of that nature. My brain has been mush. My head hurts. My heart hurts. My soul aches.
Chronic illness sucks, people. There is such a thing as appointment fatigue, and I’m suffering from it in a massive way right now. I’m just completely worn out, absolutely exhausted and just… hurting in ways that I can’t really put into words.
And, the great thing is, all of this comes with medical bills. In that regard, if anyone knows of anyone who needs/wants a developmental editor, please let me know.
That’s been my month. I hope next month is better, and if it is, I’ll hopefully free up some brainspace for reviewing. Right now I’ve just been holding on by my fingernails and hoping I stay put while my health just spins out of control all around me.