Well, I have been needing to update, but not wanting. Man, it does get a bit old. A bit. I was getting ready to get back to asking questions, making observations, maybe being able to hang out with friends and be a goofball. But nope. I suppose, I just feel like a complainer. The sick and tired of being sick and tired. But, I do complain. I am sick. I am tired. I am grumpy. My family and friends are so lucky, brave and tolerant.
I have another surgery in the very near future. The sixteenth to be exact. The outpatient procedure for the stent went well. Well, if you enjoy the feeling of a 2x4 going from under your ribs to your pelvis, then yeah, well is the word. My ureter is a spaz. It spasms. It is all quite startling, and to be honest, I'm not so quietly freaking out about this surgery. They have to cut above the blocked part of the ureter then take the clear ureter and reattach it to the bladder in a new hole, leaving the old, mushed up blocked section of ureter just there, like a tag on the back of a shirt. A uterus, you don't really use it all of the time. Its like a candy dish on the table, fill it or it collects dust. But a ureter, that sucker is the kitchen sink and if it isn't working you get in a plumber. My plumber is going to be using an 8 million dollar robot at The Huntsman Cancer Institute for my surgery since they can't go through my scar tissue and scar tissue is the reason this has happened. When they did the original surgery (the hysterectomy and lymph node removal) they had to scrape the ureters and with my Ehlers-Danlos I don't heal well, and produce more scar tissue. So, now to get to the ureter they have to go in higher. Robotic ureter surgery. The week of my birthday. I go in on monday and my birthday is on saturday. I know I shouldn't be bummed, but I was really looking forward to going out and celebrating with my family now that Todd is back from Korea. I try to put it all in perspective. No new cancer. So good. I have family and friends. So good. I have bunnies. So good.
I had to run errands, so I was in line in the bank when I noticed a man two spots in front of me. He had one deformed arm, one deformed leg and was using a crutch to get from place to place. I was in a lot of pain, refusing to use pain medication (I do that, a lot) and trying my best to hide it. When I saw this man, I immediately felt guilty, for all my whining, grumpiness, displeasure or any lack of gratefulness in the past week. I tried to stand up straighter, hold my head higher and told myself that pain wasn't a part of me, and even if it was, it didn't matter. When I reached the teller, she didn't say hello, or even hi. She looked me straight in the face and said "You're in pain." I just stammered, "well, yeah, but...I mean, I was trying...I should do better. You're good at this." As Chris will tell you, I do this every time I leave the house, I collected a person. We talked. She had lost her mother to cancer just a year ago, she was so kind and sweet, and my embarrassment from showing my pain went away. I try to smile at everyone I meet. I try to show them the love I have for being alive. The love I have for knowing what I know, for feeling what I feel. I get so sad when the pain I have gets in the way of it, hides it. I long for the days when these blogs change to esoteric and goofball posts, not full of bellyaching (some literally.)