Flexin' Those Muscles

 Or, you know, not.

This surgery fixed things that I didn't even know were wrong. In short, I feel amazing. My anxiety is drastically reduced, I have more energy, and I don't want to sleep all the time. It's been kind of an amazing turnaround, actually. Do I have weird pains? Yes. Do I have waves of fatigue? Yes. But it's all post-surgery stuff. I have my two-week follow up with my doctor this afternoon, and I couldn't be happier about how I'm feeling. Seriously.

The anesthesia has worn off at this point (it takes about two weeks) and so I'm clearer in my head, and I'm ready and raring to go to get back into everything. I'm not going to go full bore all at once (I'm going back half-time this week and next, and then back to full-time the week after)

I'm not sure if he's going to clear me for work that involves sitting 8-10 hours a day, but that's another conversation.

I also had a meeting with a surgeon for my thyroid, and I'm getting the whole thing out. My biggest nodule has grown by a half centimeter (which is a lot), and my right side has developed a nodule that wasn't there before, all within the past four months. So, out it comes. It looks like kind of a risky surgery, but he explained to me in detail how he does it and it doesn't look so bad. I was hoping to have all of my medical stuff squared away by June 1, but it's now looking like that's not going to happen, which is ok. The recovery from this surgery is pretty quick - I just need to make sure I can, you know, talk before I go back to work, which takes about a week. I found some relief in my anxiety about having two surgeries when this dude said to me that this surgery is not urgent - I don't have cancer, and so it's not something I even need to think about worrying about until I'm fully healed from the hysterectomy. Today is also going to be a great opportunity for me to ask some questions about how the two surgeries are going to affect each other (because that's A LOT of messing with my hormones in a matter of just a few months), and so that will be good to get figured out.

At this point, I want to get exercising. We have a new spin bike sitting in our three-season porch that's itching to be taken out and set up, and I have a hunch that Rob is hesitating to put it together because I'm going to want to use it, and I can't. I'm absolutely itching to get moving. I can understand not doing things like yoga to make sure I'm not putting any strain on my core, but come on. I can go for a little run, right? Or maybe a little bike ride?

The answer's going to be no. I know it. So walking it is.

This week has taught me a lot. The first thing that it taught me is that I do too much. Tooooooooo much. So, the next few months are going to be about paring down my responsibilities. I didn't realize how overwhelmed I was feeling until I stopped and couldn't do anything at all - there are things that are important to me, but I'm not operating at full capacity ever because my attention is in 10 different directions all the time. It's time for that to be 100% done. The reason that I know this is because I'm supposed to be doing work right now and I'm being totally resistant to just jumping back in. I'm sitting with this feeling and trying to figure out where it's coming from, and I'm coming up with nothing so far, so I have to continue to sit with it. How can I make this work? What will it be like for me to pare down and just be really, really good at a couple of things instead of trying to do it all and be it all? I did come up with some really good ways to start paring things down and put some of those things into action just this past week, and so I need to keep this train going. The good thing is that these things (which are big things, like I hired a person to help me with Big Important Things) will snowball. The relief I felt making these changes and offloading some of these things has helped me immensely already, and I want to chase that feeling. My priorities are changing, and I think it's been a long time coming.

The next thing that I was taught this past week was that it actually takes me quite a lot to get sick of knitting and watching TV day in and day out. I don't actually know where the end of that tolerance is, which is an interesting revelation. I knitted almost an entire sweater (I literally have half a sleeve and a hood left, and I need to put it together) and watched A LOT of television, and while I got stir crazy, it wasn't anything that a visit from a friend or a little walk couldn't fix. I'd be totally, totally ok being a hermit.

Also, the past couple of weeks have given me time to discover some pretty great stuff. I discovered a gluten-free bakery this weekend that was recommended to me by someone, and eating all of the things from there helped me find my appetite again after it was almost entirely missing for two full weeks. Now that my sleep and appetite have stabilized, I'm starting to feel much better and can focus on these new priorities and get things figured out. I feel amazingly hopeful about the rest of this year and what's coming - it's just a matter of being patient as I make my way to where I want to be.

But first, I have to get clearance to get my ass off of this couch.

Healing Well

"You really, truly only get one chance to heal well from this surgery," said my doctor.

"Yeah, I don't like that," I replied. (I was grumpy because of the argument I had just gotten into with a nurse about whether or not I had to pee, so that was not helping matters. WHO ARGUES ABOUT THAT, ANYWAY? It's going to stick with me that someone somewhere tells medical professionals that "no you don't" is ever a valid response to a patient telling you they have to pee.)

"Um. Well. I don't think your body actually cares how much you like it or not, and I know for sure that in the interest of your healing, I don't either. Your body is just trying to heal and if you don't give it time to do that, then you're going to pay for it for the rest of your life. Mark my words. I've watched it happen. There is no wiggle room here."

The man gets me. He knew exactly what I needed to hear, gave it to me unvarnished, and didn't allow for loopholes anywhere in any of our conversations, yet it also doesn't feel like I'm trapped. He made it clear that I have choices in my healing, but that I have to choose wisely.

My first surgery of two went off without a hitch on Monday - so much so, that I've overdone it a little bit over the past few days because I'm feeling so good. I got up and walked around several times that first day. I was home by 4pm the day of the surgery, and I got up and walked for five minutes several times, which was encouraged. I continued to feel great the next day, and continued walking. I walked the whole loop around my house (the shortest of several), and then came back and proceeded to sleep for six hours. That was my signal that my body isn't ready to do that yet, even if it's only a half mile, and so I have to keep being careful. I tried driving yesterday because my pain was low and I've been sans narcotics. It did not go as I had hoped so I'm going to give it another couple of days. But, this was a good turning point for me, because if there is one thing that has become alarmingly clear over the past few days, it's that I have to listen to my body.

Do I want to get back to work? Yes. Do I want to get back to doing yoga? Yes. Do I want to be active? Absolutely, yes. But what has to happen is that I have to listen to my body when it says that I'm not ready for any of those things yet. The thing is, rest like this is not in my DNA. It just isn't. I want to be back up and running as much as possible and as soon as possible. Yesterday would be ideal.

But, the other part of me, the more rational part of me, is continuing to repeat that I have been given this gift and if I don't give myself the opportunity to heal well, I'm 100% wasting it. I no longer have to worry about getting reproductive cancers. If I get colorectal cancer of any kind, it will be caught so fast because I have to get yearly colonoscopies. Soon, I will never have another thyroid cancer scare, ever. Two is enough, thank you. There's this weight that has been unbelievably lifting, and I have to just remember that as I move forward and let it drive my motivation to nap, or to rest, or to work on that puzzle instead of reconciling my billing or working on my schedule when I come back.

It also occurs to me that I haven't talked a whole lot about Lynch Syndrome and how I found out that I have it. A family member suffered a pregnancy loss, I'm assuming there were other factors at play as well, along with the fact that another family member in this same immediate genetic line had reproductive cancer. I have no family history of colon cancer, which is how Lynch is usually caught. With this family member that lost a pregnancy, their doctor did some genetic testing, and that's how Lynch was found. Then my family member that had cancer got tested (it was positive), my mom got tested (it was positive), and my sister and I got tested (I was positive). I think about this a lot, and instead of trying to sit there and be like, "This sucks, I can't believe I have to have all of these procedures, blah blah blah woof woof", I think about how the first family member to find that they had Lynch, through this really tragic loss, likely saved my life in the longer term. I'm also trying hard to let this drive my motivation to recover well. I don't know what it's like to want kids, but I would imagine that when someone gets that desire, losses of this kind are especially tragic. Do I have a responsibility to myself to heal well? Yes. Do I have a responsibility to also not take this chance for granted, not just for myself, but for others who paved the way for me to have this chance? Absolutely, yes.

This is the hardest time I've ever had prioritizing my self-care. Ever. I can usually fit it in in little ways, and it's been easy. This time, I'm incapacitated and there is nothing, literally nothing, that I can do to fight against it. There is no arguing my body into a quicker recovery from having four organs removed. So, today I made the call - I had some clients scheduled toward the end of the week next week, and I cancelled them. Even though I don't want to, I'm taking two full weeks off of work. It's happening. Will I be tearing my hair out from boredom by the end of that time? YES. I already am. But, I also know that it's for the greater good of my long-term health, and I just have to keep reminding myself both that this is only temporary and this time is worth taking. My long-term health is worth taking this time, even if I'm going to be grumpy about it. I've also realized that the grumpy isn't grumpy; it's the reality finally hitting - I am, in fact, not superhuman.

The Gift of Health and Radical Acceptance

"I want you to think back to seven years ago when you got your wisdom teeth out, Ryan," said my therapist. (Yes, I've been seeing her that long. And no, I will likely not stop seeing her until she retires. She's amazing and I'm going to hold onto that therapeutic goodness until I can't anymore.)

"I literally worried myself so sick I had to cancel the appointment and reschedule," I said. Next week will be 7 years ago that I got them out.

"Look at how different it is this time," she said. "You're literally about to get four organs taken out of your body next week and you are doing just fine with it - you're a little nervous, sure, but this is a major surgery. Look at how far you've come."

She had a point. It was nice to look at how far I've come in terms of my own anxiety around medical stuff in particular.

What I've also come to realize is that this time, this experience, it is a gift, and a big one. I'm getting the signal and I'm getting it right now - this is my chance to become healthier when this is all done. If I waste this opportunity, what in the actual eff am I doing with my life? If I don't have my health, I have nothing. Literally, nothing. I can push against it all I want. I can buck against how this is unfair, how I could have learned this lesson differently, how something different could have happened. I could have lamented that my body is failing me and wonder why this has happened and why now and spiral right along with all of these thoughts.

It couldn't have gone any differently. This is written into my genes. If it didn't happen now, it would have happened at another time and I would have gone through this all still, but later when I had less of a chance to recover well and make some use out of this lesson, or worse, if those thyroid nodules had turned into cancer, or I got some kind of reproductive cancer. I made the decision somewhere along the way that I wasn't going to worry about what this would look like. What's the point? There's no changing it! I had two choices - I could either let it stress me out, or I could roll with it. The thyroid stuff is written into my genes too, and I could have made the choice to get mad about it. I did, for a while - it's been a really hard few months. But, literally one morning, I woke up and said to myself that I needed to make a different choice in how I was handling this if I was going to get through this with my sanity intact. I could, again, buck against it, or I could roll with it and let myself learn the lesson that I was supposed to.

My health is precious. That's the lesson. Faced with the idea that I might lose it, it's time for me to continue to push it to the forefront.

That means exercise. That means eating better. That means leaning into my body's signals instead of ignoring them. That means trusting my doctors enough to be honest with them and let them help me.

So, at the same time as looking up what to expect after a hysterectomy and after thyroid surgery, I've been looking up ways to carefully exercise in ways that will both benefit my health and speed my recovery process. The hard stuff, the emotional work, is progressing and I'm over the biggest hump of it. The scary stuff is done now that I have the information that I need and can make educated choices. The only thing to do now is let the physical stuff run its course, recover, and then make different choices in how I treat my body. What I keep hearing from my doctors is that because I'm only 40, my body is much more resilient than it would be if I was even doing this a few years from now, so I'm in striking distance of something big and amazing health-wise. I'm solving a lot of potential problems down the road by getting these surgeries done now, and alleviating a lot of worry around what my health will look like if those thyroid nodules continue to grow (and they are - I got an ultrasound of my thyroid done yesterday, and the biggest nodule of the four grew a half a centimeter in three months. This is not a problem that is just going to go away.) or if I don't have the hysterectomy.

So, as I move into the healing phase physically, I'm starting to move into it emotionally too. I've got really good feelings about how the next few weeks and months are going to play out, and I'm going to continue to ride this wave. Am I nervous? Sure. Freaking out? Maybe sometimes, but not all the time anymore. These surgeries will solve a lot more problems than cause them, and I feel really good about that even if it's not something I asked for. And, even though none of this is in my control, I feel thankful for the lessons that this experience is teaching me.

Will it always be this way, especially through my recovery? Probably not, but I'll ride the good days as much as the bad ones, knowing that both are temporary. Pain only turns into suffering if we hold on to it.

(I also think it's no coincidence that Radical Acceptance has been a major theme in my clinical work this week. Thanks, Universe.)

Proud Moments at the Doctor

I had my first meeting with a new gastroenterologist today. We talked about all kinds of things - yearly colonoscopies, cancer risk, celiac, egg intolerances, red meat intolerances, intestinal inflammation and how stomach acid goes so far up my esophagus that it's going into my lungs and that's what's causing the chronic cough, you know, great stuff. She asked if I had anything unresolved from the medication that I was put on to control the inflammation in my stomach and I described a few symptoms to her. This was how the conversation went.

Doctor: It sounds like you might have lactose intol-

Me: No. Don't finish that sentence.

Doctor: I know. There's already a lot that you can't eat.

Me: That's correct. Also, cheese is what I would consider a staple food.

Doctor: It's so good, isn't it?

Me: I don't think you understand. If I could put cheese on my pancakes and not get funny looks, I would.

Doctor: Wow.

Me: Yes.

Doctor: Why don't we try lactaid enzymes then? That might help.

Me: That sounds like a good idea.

Doctor: Great!

Me: You can pry the cheese out of my COLD DEAD HANDS, doctor.

Doctor: (Trying desperately to change the subject) .....so do you also drink milk? What other dairy do you eat?

Me: I eat yogurt sometimes but I try to trend toward non-dairy because we like each other much better than dairy yogurt likes me. I haven't had dairy milk in easily over a decade because it bothers my stomach. I don't eat a whole lot of dairy-based ice cream because it doesn't like me and also because most of it has eggs in it. But yeah, I'll put a hurt on a bowl of coffee ice cream if the mood strikes me.

Doctor: ...and you don't want to acknowledge that you might have some kind of a lactose problem?

Me: DO.NOT.BURST.MY.BUBBLE.OF.DENIAL.

Doctor: It's only 10am and I've already probably had the most ridiculous conversation of the day.

Me: Well your receptionists have a Poo Award behind them that I was too weirded out to ask about, so there's that. I do have some tact. Somewhere. Also, I get that a lot.

She loves me already, I can tell. She laughed at me pretty hard a few times. She's going to love putting a scope up my colon once a year and a scope down my throat every two.

I've also decided that brutal, unvarnished honesty is what I'm going to bring to every doctor I meet. It works very well. Take the conversation that I had with my dermatologist a couple of weeks ago:

Me: I want to get rid of the red on my face.

Doctor: It's rosacea, so that's totally understandable. Do you moisturize?

Me: I'm just going to be straight with you. No.

Doctor: Ever?

Me: Ever. My showers are also a million degrees.

Doctor: So let me see if I have this right.

Me: Sure!

Doctor: You basically burn your face and scalp and skin every time you shower.

Me: Yes. Until my whole body is bright red.

Doctor: Which totally strips your skin of moisture.

Me: Yes.

Doctor: And you don't moisturize.

Me: I do not.

Doctor: Ever.

Me: Ever.

Doctor: Do you even own lotion?

Me: Oh, sure! I just never use it.

Doctor: Why?

Me: Ain't nobody got time for that. Also, I have yet to find one that doesn't make me break into an angry rash.

Doctor: Ah. Do you at least wash your face?

Me: In the shower!

Doctor: ....with steaming hot water running directly on it.

Me: Yup!

Doctor: And you don't moisturize afterward.

Me: Nope.

One or both of two things (likely both) are happening for me:

1. I'm burnt out on doctors. Just...stick a fork in my burned and dry skin. Done. I also have a thyroid doctor appointment next week and will likely be referred to a surgeon to get that whole mess figured out. I just want this all done already. (And no, it was not a funny funny joke when I talked about visiting 1-3 doctors per week. I literally see a doctor at least once a week.)

2. I've decided that brutal honesty is the way to go because if I'm not, no doctor will be able to adequately help me. I have to do my part if I want to get the treatment that I need. I can't just flail around and not tell any doctors anything and then be like "WHY AREN'T THEY HELPING MEEEEE?" Totally fair to exactly no one, least of all me.

Today's been a funny day, just in general. I'm just...I don't even know! I think this is the calm before the storm and I'm like those little kids who are so tired they can't stop laughing and is about to pass out and sleep through all of it in a matter of minutes. It's not a horrible place to be given my circumstances, but I know that I have to buckle down HARD on the self-care in the next week and a half to get through it.

And also start to put things I frequently use at hip height so that I don't have to bend down.

And also start buying chicken broth. And soup.

And relish the fact that two weeks from now, I'm going to be in the middle of my first of two weeks of blissful, blissful rest. I'm feeling like this whole situation is more manageable a little bit every day, which feels GREAT. I've got a plan for my clients, I ordered some loose-fitting pants, and I'm feeling almost ready. I just have to keep telling myself that I've got this, because I do.