I am here, at home. I am also trying to wean myself off of the narcotics - I have a thoroughbred heart in a shetland pony's body so I am trying not to thrash around while I heal from this surgery. And I am taken aback by how many of you gave me your best wishes...I have had no laptop for quite a few so its been a lot of catching up...so please bear with me as i type while slightly narcoticky induced...but I have found that while on these pills I can read a magazine from last week over and over again and it feels like its brand new each time...anyhow
this whole thing has been like walking a course back in my college days, when i rode horses wthout worrying about the falls and talked the talk with my horsey friends, as we would eyeball the new jumping courses weekly, jammering how we would maybe have to take out a stride on that in and out or put in a stride when rounding the corner before the water approach because you knew they did that on purpose to make your horse throw his head up, to make you and your horse rethink the whole approach - if none this makes sense to you, thats okay, because from what i am saying, is that you all have been those friends of mine walking this new "course" with me - but I really dont know how Im going to ride this new course, and so every thought, every comment, every well wish and prayer from my friends is going to ride with me on this one ~
Fence #1 -
the surgery went well as expected, except the mass was attached to the iliac vein and they couldnt remove it without serious things happening. I guess it kind of got messy and they had to throw in an extra stitch or two. They got 90 percent out of the green monster mass out. The 10 percent was left on the right side iliac vein and good news is that I have no issues with my right leg :) . I have 22 staples that from my viewpoint form the country of italy around my bellybutton down to my old scar, in a narcotic sort of artsy haze (although its a vague italy as the border is open to the east.) just in case you wanted to know.
Fence #2 -
The pathologist standing by was able to rule out ovarian cancer and retroperitoneal liposarcoma from first looksee, - two things that was on the list - this was a big yay! They did find however Lymph cells in it so it was sent on to further labs for later diagnosis. the young surgeon wonder (who I later found out that the nurses call him "doogie howser" behind his back and giggled like naughty nuns when they do so) found some adhesions in my lower left abdomen and so then he let my bowels go free, so now I have found i cannot exactly tell you about what I ate is working where and when through that area anymore. just in case you wanted to know. Also they checked the other things in there and it looked like I was good to go so they closed the hood and called it a day. it felt like 15 minutes but I guess it was a lot longer then that, esp. for poor mr. foresterman in the waiting room...
fence #3 -
I screwed up by eating at Cafe DeCamps the night before surgery (in Billings, off of N.6th street). They serve the most amazing Montana beef and organic foodstuffs there that I had the Maui Maui Fish and Chipotle with Avocado cream Mousse,and a Montana rootbeer, and apparently that and my adrenaline made them think maybe some diabetes thang' was happening after surgery, so after the 3rd day of constant fingerpricking and then perplexed at my normal sugar readings I confessed - that I was anything goes for sweets addict and by the way a nervous wreck if they hadnt notice by now; however If there are any new customers at Cafe Decamp, im pretty sure Im responsible for that after my lavish descriptions to those nurses of what I ate. they did eliminate the fingerprickings...but nothing prepared me for when they began the barrage of heparin shots to my tummy after surgery - the only reason i bared through the twice daily shots to the sides of my tummy was some nurse was smart enough to say in the beginning "oh, you poor thing, you barely have any fat to shoot into". Of course my very vain ego bravely got me through 5 days of this, while my pride was being hogtied by narcotics.. however there still was a little issue involving this...because...im ticklish. terribly....so it was grab, stab and let go, otherwise I would slowly convulse in laughter and burning pain. they didnt know whether to laugh with me, comfort me or just stare fascinated at my spectacle of ego...And although I dont know what they all thought of me there, I did try to cooperate. Honestly. i stopped calling the inflatable leg compressers for blood clots the "leg irons" at least on the last day before I left....I loved my RNS and LPNS and CNAS and whoever else came into the room - they have great people working at the Billings Clinic! From what I remember!!!
I remember the ride home as one that involved a nice sunny day, and I got to play with electric window opener over and over. open breathe sigh shut close . open breathe sigh shut close . Im pretty sure Mr. Foresterman had his finger on the doorlocks on his side at all times, he's always saving my life in little ways. thanks hon! theres just nothing like blue Montana sky to breathe in, it heals you...I am home.
SO this is where the course changes to one that gets a little harder, and a little weirder.
We got a call yesterday from the young surgeon wonder - he has the pre results. Pre results? what happened to RESULTS?
They are sending the green monster on to Mayo clinic for second report, and cant speculate any more on that until we hear from them. Because what they think I have is very rare, something that isnt seen even yearly. when i first heard this I envisioned a special black box, holding the green monster at bay, with two secret service men on either side, peering out of the helicopter as it flys towards the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. A second vision burst that bubble, revealing a '67 volkswagon van with a old red coleman medical cooler plugged into the cigarette lighter, tijuana brass band music playing loudly out of the broken speakers, dingle balls bouncing in time to the ruts in the road on old highway 2 in north dakota....I stared suspiciously at Mr. foresterman. gotta give him credit, he didnt even roll his eyes when the young surgeon wonder said "rare".
Mr foresterman can tell you how rare I can be - "no, sorry, thats the laaaassst one" "no, sorry, thats out of stock" "no, sorry, that has been discontinued.." as I look at him pleadingly, wailing "but we must haaaave it!!!! its rare!!!". Poor guy. Even in illness....
They think I have Castlemans disease.
The above explains it in layman terms.
insert picture here of little miss holding a big honkin' sword instead of a double barrel gun...
ps -pictures are hard to take right now when certain people wont even let me walk up the stairs on my own. pfft.