Hey there. Thanks to those of you who have contacted me to see how the surgery went.
The GOOD news? (1) It's over and (2) the test came back benign. Take a deep breath with me. Whew. (3) They found four polyps that appear to be the source of the ridiculously heavy bleeding and removed them. This next period should tell us all if that was the right answer.
The BAD news? (1) The "You won't feel a thing, I promise" was a pack of lies. The drugs they gave me made me slightly sleepy but wouldn't have gotten me through a pedicure without wincing. It hurt. It really hurt. I was miserable and angry and scared and walked out of there pretty shell shocked. (2) There was no 90 lb. fibroid even though I offered a $100 bonus for finding one. (3) My uterus is extremely enlarged and so tipped over it almost makes a circle. What that has to do with ANYTHING, I have no clue. I go back in on the 22nd to get a final report on everything and hopefully will be able to ask that question. I will also tell them that they should never, ever, ever promise a woman that the procedure will be painless because that is nothing but a LIE.
I have recovered pretty darn quickly and there is actually even a spring in my step. Since I've had some time without bleeding now, I have a bit of energy and everything. Of course, my really low BP had rocketed back up to crappy numbers for reasons I just DON'T GET but that's a story for another day, right?
So, here's my latest tale of my always interesting life. To make its point, however, you have to know a little about my background. For those of you who have known me forever (Hi Bev! Hi Elsie!), this will be redundant so feel free to skim ahead.
I was raised in the city with a wonderful mom who made great meals from food that came in boxes and cans. I married a man whose mom made great meals from things she actually planted, weeded, grew, picked and canned. Culture shock indeed. Over the years, I have come to deeply appreciate that way of living. This year, when Joseph put a huge amount of work into growing a garden that has taken over our entire back yard, I was equally appreciative. I watched with delight as things grew and then one day, LOOK! If you need a tomato, there are may right outside. Squash? Right there! Zucchini? EVERYWHERE. Pretty cool.
The other morning, Joseph and I were out in the garden admiring it and mourning the end of summer. I got a bowl and decided to pick some tomatoes and green peppers for our lunch later that day. It was fun . . . although I make him pick up the tomatoes that the slugs got to first. (Ewwwwww.) I came in with a mounding pile of produce, so lovely in the morning light. At lunch time, I began chopping peppers, throwing them in a skillet with onions and garlic and herbs. I thought they would make a great topping for our baked potatoes. Smelled fantastic too.
I cooked . . . . sauteed . . . . stirred . . . . set the table . . . got the taters out of the oven . . . . began feeling some discomfort on my face . . . ignored it . . . . got out the silverware . . . . face really hurt now, what the heck? Went in the bathroom, washed it with soap and back to the table. Uh oh. Serious pain now. What had I done? I hadn't burned it . . . Suddenly, I look at the lovely bowl full of sauteed veggies and I say to my husband, "Those WERE all green peppers from the garden, right?" I mean, they looked a little funky, but all home grown veggies look funky to me. They don't grow like the ones you see in the stores.
He paused. (By now, I had an ice pack on my face.)
Apparently he had forgotten that along with the green peppers, he planted hot peppers. Oops. And yes, that is what I had chopped up. And yes, I had touched my face and WOW, did it hurt. I washed my hands. Didn't help a bit. I went online and read scads of recommendations (most of them telling me to never cut peppers without wearing gloves but fat lot of good that did me AFTERWARDS). I saw a recommendation of putting lemon juice on your hands, then lotion. We didn't have lemons, we had limes, so I used that, followed by lotion. By then, my face burning was down to a dull roar and eventually disappeared. I thought my hands were safe but you know what? 24 hours later I still wince when I touch my eyes because there is a little left over under a nail or somewhere.
Of course, the only one who could eat the topping I made was Joseph.
The one who forgot to tell me about the hot peppers.
Good things I love him.