The Shetland pony in me couldnt clear the rails Friday night....

I had a little setback..although some people say a 3 hour ride to the ER for a major blood clot in the leg might be more then little...especially since now I HAVE to give those darn blood thinning shots in my OWN stomach...I think all the animals i ever vetted have cursed me...but its okay because after I give this shot to my stomach, i reward myself with candy afterwards...

I would make a very very bad diabetic.

yes, this is what self-employed people have to pay -
Merry Christmas and happy next years birthday x 2 to me...

it started out last Thursday night - I had been feeling a little chipper and did quite a bit that day - when i finally  sat down and took a rest for two hours, i found i could. not. walk. It was like it the valve at my left hip turned off the blood supply to my ever pinkening leg...I showed mr. Foresterman, and then took a shower...he called the ER. Unfortunately they were expecting me to be in murderous pain if it were blood clots so they told him they didnt know what it could be. I was numb and pink and a tiny bit little pressure pain in my leg.  Mr. Foresteman paced while I went to bed and overnight my leg improved somewhat. Until I tried to walk around the next day. I looked like Eyegor from "young frankenstein",  frizzy hair, movable hump (my  microwavable heatpack on my shoulders), and all that.  The hair alone was enough to encourage Mr. Foresterman to take me to the ER...

but for that price, you NOT ONLY got your loaded syringes,
but a bonus clear plastic bag!

Three hour truck ride and we arrived. I have found that ER's are not good places to be on a Friday night in a big city out west unless you are really really really in a life threatening postion, such as a having a live bull's horn impaled in your chest or a bad cowboy's spur imbeded in your eye...stuff like that. I do remember that the young ER technician looked so much like my Annabel that it was hard for me to complain as she wrastled with the veins in my arm to submit to her IV poking...the term "wrastled" applies here.  I think she probably was reaaaaallllly good at cattle sortings and brandings/vaccinations, and probably was a 4-H champ, but I was ready to start bawling like a calf just to remind her that there was a live human attached to those "pesky veins".  Then came the narcotic guy - im pretty sure his job was to make sure I didnt remember the IV episode. and to cooperate fully while in a comatose state.  They ordered Morphine,  but I weakly protested - that stuff makes me sick to my tummy i said and I really do like to be co-hear -ent...! 

nothing says high fashion more than thigh high stockings
 made for women AND men.
I was told to wear these for 5 years.
kid you not.
So here I was, in non-pain except for the IV wrastling with the tech who definitely had the upper hand as she had a sharp implement and I did not, and the narcotic guy says he will give me something different. Different turned out to be some sort of Dilaudid and thats like 4 times stronger than morphine - I was hogtied by drugs.  this girlfriend was feeling no pain, nor her body, not even her brain waves...and I would strongly recommend it others to use when you are like so maxed out in pain - like when you give yourself the deepest papercut with CARDBOARD-  but thats an illegal recommendation so I cant say that... But I can say its like a warm fuzzy feeling perpetually in your brain, thinking unicorns, baby kitties and warm puppy thoughts in an ever widening happy happy world and even if they tell you that they are concerned for your life you are like "huh?" because after all its a happy happy world and what exactly is the meaning of life but ....puppies, kitties and UNICORNS!!! poor Mr. Foresterman at this time was slowly becoming my interpreter as my brain melted, like if you were to leave aunt sophies fruitcake sitting on a Montana cattle guard on a hot summer day, thoughts dripping, like cherries, unidentifiable fruit, nuts ... I was wasted.  However, cooperation on my part didnt involve being in a coma but my being the friendly homeless cat as usual, asking how everyone was doing as people floated in and out of the room - they didnt make any noise with their feet! how do they do that? MAGIC!

Mr. Foresterman is such a responsible caregiver that
he bought this for me to use in case
if he's out on the back 40 -  north 160 - west 20 hike hike...
I haven't abused this.

Anyhow, in my mind's eye I was hostess of a very modern, stark, and contemporary kitchen, except it was more like a hostess homeless cat laying flat on her back on a gurney and it was odd that there was a sink, a refrigerator, but no stove in this big room.  But then the MRI lady wheeled in what looked like a grill and I had an "aha!" moment...I was very cooperative. Then it was Doctor time, but i cant remember what he looked like - I was told I was lucky as he is a vascular something or whatever genius there and he was in the house..I vaguely remember that he had good hair and I wanted to pat it, but somehow knew that wouldn't be appropriate....tomorrow I have an appt. with him - I can update after I actually have a coherent conversation as Friday night was kind of puppy and unicorn night. Anyhow Mr. Foresterman did tell me later that at one point he thought i was such a beautiful heroine, laying so dramatically with my hair unloosed amidst the white sheets... and in the moment there in the ER he told me how i was so beautiful and positively glowing...he said my response was that I just had radiation dye in my veins for the cat scan so that's probably where the glowing part is coming from...Anyhow the cat scan (meow?) revealed no blood clots in the lungs, yay! The final determination and diagnosis was what they call "DVT"  in my left groin down to my calf (calve? ...?), most likely from surgery and not from lack of movement on my part. That last part made both of us feel better - Mr. Foresterman was trying to take responsibility though for all of this, the good caregiver man that he is... But  women are predisposed to this on the left side as that is a narrower tunnel for the blood vessels to go through,  I was on hormones as I don't have ovaries, and abdominal surgery just adds to the mix...So the end of all this was AS long as it didn't reach my lungs, I wouldn't die.    "so you can go home now"...uh, okay...thank you...

my favorite cottonwood tree. It really is that beautiful.

So now I am at home, and yesterday was the first day that I actually feel like me. 
except for the staples.
Tomorrow I get those off, YAY! 
We are down to 20 now since two fell off...
kind of.

Mr. foresterman took a picture of me in my sexy anti-embolism thigh highs. I'm looking for hunters here.

With all the blood clot hub bub, we totally had to put the first rare diagnosis of Unicentric Castleman's disease to the wayside, 

as we can only handle one life threatening situation at a time according to the doctors.  
Unless it involves two grizzilies.

I found one; he was over a 1/2 mile away on the forest service side.
I think he was looking at me.
and my sexy anti-embolism thigh highs.

We have another appointment to meet with another oncologist at Billings on November 8th. The young surgeon wonder set it up, and we were told that I needed to have further treatment. Apparently they are taking it up with what they call "the tumor board". They will discuss, and then come up with what they think is an apparent treatment program. It could involve chemo, radiation, or both. even though this is not a cancer, it acts like a cancer, can become a cancer and can metastasize to be fatal if not surgically removed totally.  Only I would get a disease that is just like cancer but it isnt a cancer so I feel guilty calling it a cancer but its a disease that can still kill me - catholic guilt training is going to kill me yet. My wonderful neighbor to the north said I should just give up and tell people I have cancer, because there are just not enough hours in the day to describe what I have. I think once i start treatment I just may have to do that in order to save energy...or carry posterboard and a laser pen around in back of the truck...

I handed the binoc's over to Mr. Foresterman -
here he is determining if he needs to defend my honor.
To say that I was bummed when they told us that they left 10% in is an understatement.  But considering that it was on a major Iliac vein, they had no choice. So we are considering who to choose for a second opinion on all of this to make sure we get rid of all of it on the first treatment go- round. Unfortunately, this disease is so rare that only a few cancers clinics treat approx. 2 patients A YEAR with this disease. There is no standard treatment - it's that rare. I will become someone's case study where ever I go. Poor them.

here we are discussing whether it's my sexy anti embolism thigh highs or his suspenders
that the hunter is really staring at. over 1/2 mile away.
then I get distracted -
So what would you do? Right now we have to concentrate on getting the blood clot manageable. 
Then treatment to shrink or kill the mass.  But where? 

We have a lot of hard decisions to make in the future.

the animals sure missed me!!!
yes, that is a tree stump im resting on. what else?
and that is my cruella deville pouppy robe...
maybe i might need some mental help too...

warning for the squeamish, leaves this page right now!!

for a halloweeeeen scare for the very very very very very brave - click on the tiny picture below,

if you dare!

BOOOO! I'm a frankenschtein this year!




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