My Worry, My Reality

Today was the day I had been losing sleep over. The day I had been dreading since May. My colonoscopy and endoscopy. No, I am not 50 yet, but I earned this double procedure because my body decided to reject iron. We needed to do it to try to solve the mystery.

I wasn't worried about the normal stuff; the prep or the actual procedure. I was worried about the anesthesia. I worried myself into thinking something would go wrong. I didn't have any reason to think this, other than it was probably on a Lifetime Movie I watched once or the subject of a Lurlene McDaniel book I read when I was young, impressionable, and into books about death and chronic illness. I hadn't ever had a bad reaction to anesthesia or even knew anyone who did. BUT, it was my worry, so it was my reality.

I think, more than the worry about something going wrong, was the worry that I wouldn't be in control. I have some major control issues I need to work through... I didn't like the idea of me being unaware of what was happening or the thought of losing track of time without knowing where I had been. It is putting a lot of trust in people I hadn't ever met. What if something goes wrong and I wake up months later in a mostly abandoned hospital? What if I wake up to hear the moans of the undead trying to eat my brains? It happened to my friend Rick and things have been rough for him ever since.

I was also worried about the way I would act or what I would say when I was waking up. I had a huge fear of being mean. I was afraid I would be mean to the nurses, they have tough enough jobs, I didn't want to be a jerk and add stress to their lives.  I also didn't want to be mean to Mac if he didn't deserve it. (I only want to be mean to him if he deserves it and I can remember it...) I even had a little fear that someone who had been entrusted to be my responsible driver would decide to record me and I would be the next viral superstar. Move over Chewbacca Mom.

Thankfully, today was smooth sailing. After only a couple hours of sleep the night before, I welcomed the drug induced sleep! I kind of think that is part of the diabolical plan of the colon clean out... they don't really need it cleaned out, they just want you desperately tired so you won't fight the anesthesia... I could be wrong, but I don't think so!  Before I went under, the nurse and I celebrated the fact that I wasn't pregnant. She hesitated for a minute, worried that maybe I wanted to be pregnant. I reassured her that I didn't.

And then I woke up with a Kleenex in my hand asking for a bacon sandwich. I sat up in my bed and the nurse told me I needed to stay a little bit longer then she disappeared. I was a little worried. I remember talking to the nurse or the curtain I can't be positive on this part of the story, "Oh no! I didn't have a baby, did I?"

The nurse or the curtain responded with a laugh in her voice, "I don't think so, did you?"

I was relieved, "Good, I didn't want to watch Paw Patrol." Before the nurse or curtain could respond, I scratched my forehead and said, "Wait, I haven't ever watched that."

The nurse or the curtain laughed and said, "I think you must have had quite the dream,"

I must have but I don't remember, and that is ok.

Mac showed up. I said something weird to him, but I don't remember. I just remember him giving me the look of not sure what to do or say, but trying hard not to laugh. The doctor came in to show us pictures of my insides. The 7th grade science student in me really wanted to take them for show and tell, but I didn't. The doctor said a bunch of things. I know he said they found 1 polyp, but it didn't look bad. He also said my stomach had 3 places where it was bleeding. It wasn't ulcers, but I don't remember what he said it was or could be. I know he said we will find out in about 10 days when the results come back. He didn't seem to worried, so I am not going to worry.

I left feeling optimistic. and hungry, very very hungry. and tired, very very tired. At least we knew why I was losing iron. Now we just need to find out why I am bleeding, but I am not going to worry until the doctor calls and says I need to worry. No matter what google says, even if I had my fingers crossed when I promised my friend I wouldn't try to be an internet doctor detective, I will not worry. I will not worry. I will not worry. I will go eat another meal, I have 24 hours to make up for! 

Health "Bump" Recap

I have had a lot of different people ask me what is wrong with me after I posted about my health scare. That made me realize I didn't actually say what was wrong. Sorry. Foggy mind and memory problems is a symptom, as well as, a personality flaw... I didn't mean to leave anyone in the dark. That really isn't my thing.

Last October I started to feel a little ick, so I called to get a doctor's appointment. Apparently my dr retired so I needed to find a new one. I found a new doctor who could see me in January... WHAT!?! That is insane, but I could deal. It was probably just a bug that was leaving me a little out of sorts.

I toughed it out. I was feeling tired, but nothing else was wrong. It was probably just me being mom-tired. I ignored it. A week before my appointment, my doctor needed to reschedule. She could get me in sometime in March. UGH!

I kind of started to panic. I really didn't think I could just deal much longer. My mom-tired was starting to interfere with life.  Sometimes I was so tired it would hurt. I could fall asleep almost anywhere. I was first trimester tired, without the perk of a baby in a few months. I was miserable. I was having trouble doing simple things, like walking up stairs hurt. My legs and lungs were on fire. I would have to sit and rest before I could do whatever I planned on going upstairs to do.  I was dizzy all the time. Luckily, a friend convinced me to find a different doctor. I called and the new new doctor could see me in 2 weeks. Much better than 2 months!

My new doctor was awesome. She didn't make me feel silly when I told her I was just. so . tired. She took me seriously. She did testing. We both thought it was probably thyroid, because I am the only adult woman in my family above the age of 21 without a thyroid problem. Plus, I secretly wanted it to be a thyroid problem, so I could blame the weight gain on my faulty thyroid and not my McDonald's addiction. 

A few days after my blood tests, I got a call from the nurse. My thyroid is fine. Boo. My B12 is a little low and my iron is really low. I needed a few more tests and I needed to start taking B12 and Iron. No problem. I can do that. I was anemic, no problem I can deal. That will be easy enough to fix. I know tons of people who are anemic. I was taking my iron twice a day and my B12 once a day.  I kept waiting to feel better. I wasn't.

After a month of taking my iron, I had to go back for more blood work. A few days after, I got another call from the nurse. This time she questioned if I was actually taking my iron. I was. She seemed discouraged. I got a little nervous. She said the doctor wants to see me again and she also wanted me to see a specialist. My iron went down since the last appointment.  Ugh! I didn't really know what that meant, but it didn't seem good.

At my next appointment, we went over my symptoms. She told me she was concerned because my numbers should be improving, but they were going down instead. She wanted me to start taking 3 iron pills a day. She was very candid with me. I didn't understand the seriousness of the situation until she told me she was concerned about my organs shutting down because of the low iron. Hold the phone! What do you mean organs shutting down!?! I need my organs running. I need my organs doing their jobs. If my organs shut down, that would be bad news. This is just a little iron problem. I know tons of people who are anemic. Really this can't be all that serious. Maybe she is just exaggerating. I am only anemic. I can deal. 

I went home and panicked. And worried. And lost sleep. And worried some more.

By the time I saw the hematologist, (which is also an oncologist, which made me panic more after I google stalked him) I was in full panic mode. Thankfully, he was awesome. He came in and did not mess around. He was no nonsense. He explained everything in a way I could understand. He praised my doctor for not wasting time and getting me in to take care of the problem right away. He set me up for 4 iron infusions and then more testing. He explained that some people are just anemic without any underlying cause. If that was my case then I would need to come back periodically for more infusions, but he would monitor that and we would deal with it when we came to it.

So basically to recap, I am anemic. My body won't absorb iron, for some mysterious reason, that maybe my Gastroenterologist will discover in the next couple of weeks. In the mean time, I will continue with my infusions and hope they start to work, because I like my organs working.

I know there a lot of people who are anemic. I know there are a lot of people worse off than me. But there is just something about hearing that your organs could shut down, if we can't fix the problem, that sends me into panic overdrive. There is something about being so tired that I fell asleep sitting up, that makes me worry. There is something about having your legs and lungs burn after going up the stairs and not being about to keep up with the A Team, that makes me get discouraged. There is something about being dizzy and passing out that makes me a little concerned. There is something about a little heath "bump" that makes me realize I am not immortal and I am not as young as I used to be.

I know that I will get past this. I will someday stop looking like a vampire. I will stop being so tired. I will be better!

In a Puddle of My Own Worry

Tomorrow I start treatment for a mystery illness. I haven't said much to very many people because I don't know what to say. I don't know what to say and I don't like talking about me. Really the only people who know are the ones who have had to deal with me on a daily basis. The ones who have held on to me when I passed out. The ones who sympathized as I fell asleep while sitting down to eat. The ones who watched the girls so I could rest. The ones who I canceled plans with when I just couldn't. The ones who know, really don't even know, because I don't even know.

It is a little a lot scary when you know something is wrong, but you just don't know what, or when you know what but you just don't know why. While I am confident that my treatments will work and I will be feeling 100% by the end of July, just in time to go back to work, it is still enough of a health scare that makes me aware of my mortality. It has been the greatest contributor to my mom-somnia since school got out. I wake up at 3AM and worry. I worry about leaving the girls. I worry about leaving the girls before they are ready for me to go, before I am ready to go. I, of course, have made lists. I have lists for the girls. I have lists for people who would take care of the girls. I have lists for Mac. Now I know if something were to actually happen no one would find my lists for years, but I still felt better just writing them. 

I am relatively certain once I get past my appointment next week, I will be over my mom-sommia. The appointment next week is the one I have an irrational fear over. I know worry is wasteful, and yet, here I am sitting in a puddle of my own worry. I will continue to pray and make list, because lists make me feel peace. 

Please promise me, if something does happen to me, you will make sure the girls remember to brush their teeth, do their homework, find something that makes their hearts happy, and remember I love them. And when nothing does happen next week, please promise to remind me to remember to stop worrying!

Not a Baby Anymore

It finally happened.

A3 was old enough to join her older sisters at VBS I know that isn't what it is called anymore, but I really don't like change, so it will always be VBS to me. This is the first year I have dropped off all the girls and didn't have anyone to tote back to the car. I have always used VBS as a time to catch up with the youngest A Team member. Now VBS is a time to catch up with me.

I almost had myself talked out of of leaving A3. She seems so much younger than the other two were when they were three. I just didn't feel right about leaving my baby with strangers, even if they were God's strangers. I was confident the other two would be able to hitchhike home if something bad went down, but not A3; she could hardly tell a stranger her name. What was I doing? I prayed all the way to church. I was doing my best to let God handle the worry. When we got to the parking lot A2 said she really felt bad for me since I was going to be all alone. Was that my sign? Was God telling me to keep Amelya so I wouldn't have to be alone? I still didn't feel confident one way or the other. We kept walking.

As we get closer to the door, I noticed a group of young moms. They had just dropped off their sweet preschool kids and had their tiny babies in carriers or strollers. I started to get stroller envy. I wanted to be the one pushing my baby back to the car in a stroller. About the time, A3 started getting crowd panicky. She went from not wanting to be near me to scaling my leg like a prisoner climbing a wall to freedom. She started to whine, "Moooooooomy, hold me. Hold me. Hold me." I told her no and that she needed to walk. She started hyperventilating, "Mommy, hold me. Pleaaaase! I am a baby. I am not big!" There is was that sign from God. Sure A3 acts younger than the other two girls at the age, because I treat her like the baby. I haven't let her grow up like the other two girls. She NEEDED to be allowed to go to VBS.    

I saw a couple familiar faces that made me feel even better about leaving A3. I walked her to her group and she was so distracted by all the kids, the singing, and the generally happy noises that she didn't even notice she wasn't with me. I slowly walked to the back to be the creepy parent who won't let go. I watched and watched. Thankfully, she was singing and dancing and happy as could be. I decided it was ok to leave...

I had three hours all to myself. I didn't know what to do with all that time! There were so many options...

• I could clean the house.
• I could write a post for the blog.
• I could read a best seller.
• I could write a best seller.
• I could read some potential musicals for next year.
• I could grocery shop without anyone complaining.
• I could watch totally and completely grown up non-kid friendly shows.
• I could start and finish T25 without any interruptions.

What I ended up doing;

• Cried in the car for about 10 minutes.
• Went to the grocery store.
• Played the "What If Game
• What if A3 was crying?
• What if A3 wasn't crying?
• What if A3 was too scared to tell someone she had to go to the bathroom?
• What if A3 had an accident? I didn't bring a change of clothes.
• What if A3 wanders off from the group and gets lost?
• What if A3 sees the older girls and won't go back with her teachers?
• What if A3 punches someone?
• What if A3 calls the other kids, "Vaginas"? Sadly, this has been a very entertaining new name she calls her sisters. Why couldn't she stick with "Buttface?
• Watched a Hallmark movie.
• Ate a chocolate chip cookie and didn't have to share it with anyone.
• Left the house 10 minutes before I needed to because no one was there to slow me down.

When I pick up the girls, A3 said, "Mommy, I cried and cried and cried. You left me."  I sure did and I am doing it again tomorrow. Your preschool teachers will thank me and someday you will too!

On the way home the older girls excitedly told all of their A3 sightings. Funny, no one saw her crying the 5 different times they passed her...