New Plans

I got a call yesterday afternoon from my foot surgeon's office telling me that he had a cancellation for next Friday the 15th and asking me if I would like to move my surgery up by two weeks. Uh, HECK YEAH I WOULD. My foot has been driving me absolutely nuts. Two less weeks of being in miserable pain is always something I will say yes to. This means that we are on a big time crunch, though, in getting my papers signed and clearance done, so I have to go to my doctor's other office in a different town to sign the papers on Monday (because he's not in the office where I normally see him that day), and call on Monday and reschedule my surgical clearance with my primary care and pray they can get me in on Tuesday because the surgical coordinator has to get the clearance forms to the hospital Wednesday morning. I couldn't call yesterday because they close early on Fridays and had already closed for the day by the time I got the call about the cancellation. So there's that. But I'm sure it will get done. I'm just glad I told the coordinator weeks ago to keep me in mind should my doc get a cancellation!

So my weekend was already off to a good start. Then today, Mom and I went over to my uncle and aunt's house for lunch because my cousin Dustin is home visiting from the Coast Guard. My uncle loves to cook, and there was so much good food I could hardly stand it. Then, I drank several mugs of hot chocolate and hung out with them and watched the MLS Cup Final (boo you, Toronto), and then my uncle drove me home afterwards (because Mom and Mommom had both already left earlier). It was so nice to get to do something different and be with other people for a change, especially since Dustin is home. My life is very monotonous, and it's only going to feel even more so after Friday, so I thoroughly enjoyed getting to mix it up for once.

Getting to see this cool kid was just icing on the cake. :)

Here we go again.

Tuesday, I went back to my foot surgeon for my six month post-op visit. I was fully expecting this to be one of the rare times in my life where a doctor appointment would be smooth and uneventful. I've been having a bit more pain in my right foot since around the beginning of October, but I figured it was just because I spend so much time barefoot since I really don't leave the house much.

Well, this is what I get for assuming things.

After I got the x-rays, I was just hanging out waiting for my doc to come back in to talk to me about them, still not having a clue anything was wrong. When he came in, though, he was way more serious than he usually is, so I just said, "So what'd they say?" And I heard a sentence I have heard way too many times in my life.

"Well, can I just preface this by saying 'if it can happen, it will happen to you?'"

And my heart sank. Because you'll never guess what bizarre thing my body decided to do to me this time.

Remember how he put steel plates and screws in my foot in order to immobilize my big toe? Yeah, well, those broke in half.

Oh, yes, you heard me. I broke steel plates and screws in half without even trying. I'm like Wonder Woman, except way less cool.

My doc assured me that this isn't my fault, that he knows I did everything that I was supposed to do during recovery. He said he won't know for sure why they broke until he gets in there, but sometimes, shit just fails and the fusion doesn't take. Like he said, if it can happen, it will happen to me.

So yeah, I'm having surgery again. Number 28 for those keeping track at home. It's scheduled for December 29th, but the surgical coordinator said that she would call me if they got a cancellation because ever since my doc messed with my toe at my appointment, I've been in a lot more pain than I was beforehand.

I'll be honest. I've been angry. Really angry. My closest friends know that one of my biggest fears in life is that my life is never going to be anything but a cycle of constant doctors and health problems and surgeries, and this just felt like confirmation of that fear. Plus, it's so aggravating that just when I think I'm finally getting my feet back under me - I'm not sick anymore, and I changed one of my psych meds, so my depression was getting better - and could focus on job applications again, something else pops up that completely derails my life when all I want is to get my shit together and move out and be an adult. It feels like every day of my life is this constant battle, and I'm just so exhausted. It's like the universe is saying, "I'm going to keep punching you in the face until you absolutely lose your damn mind," and I'm on the brink. I really don't know how much God expects me to take, or why begging and pleading for refuge and a break from all of this pain leads to nothing but a continuation of me feeling abandoned and hurt and alone and exhausted.

But if there is one thing I know in the midst of all of this confusion and pain, it's that no matter how alone I feel, I am never without help. God has given me the most incredible support system of friends who, even with hundreds, in one case thousands, of miles between us, have shown up big time in the past few days to hold me up when I've felt like I couldn't stand one more second. I see God in my friends every day, in every conversation. And when I don't know what to say to God, when prayer feels impossible, their presence is a reminder that God is here, too. God sees me hurting and knows the pain I can't always express.

Am I still afraid? Yep. I was having nightmares just last night about this next surgery failing, too.
Am I still angry? Yep. I'm tired and don't want to do this anymore.
Am I still confused? Yep. I don't understand why I haven't been through enough.

But I am loved beyond measure. And I am not alone. At the end of the day, that's what matters.

A Major Prayer Answered

Five weeks ago tonight, I was a nervous wreck, honestly. I was so scared heading into surgery because all I could think about were the words "cardiac arrest."

Tonight, though? I'm really just ready for tomorrow. I want to get on with things. Sure, I have a bit of anxiety, but I do before every surgery, which is largely because I've been through several with complications. The anxiety is minimal, though, which is a huge answered prayer.

Maybe it's because I've had so much going on the past few weeks once I got through the last recovery, or maybe it's just because God really is that awesome, but I have really been looking forward to this surgery this whole time and not dreading it, despite the fact that this recovery is going to be rough. This is definitely a huge answered prayer.

Now, I'm just praying that Mom is feeling well enough to take me. Partially because I have to be at the hospital at 5:30 am and I really don't want to drag my 79-year-old grandmother out of the house at 4 am (the hospital is that far away), but mostly because I just really want her there with me. (So far it seems like she's going, but that could change at the last second.)

God is good, y'all.

#27, I'm comin' for ya.

Same old shit but a different day.

The past two weeks haven't exactly been blog-worthy.

Not that anything in my life really is lately, yet here I am, eight years in, still rambling about the pointless happenings of my life, but I guess that's a discussion for another day.

But surgery recovery is especially mundane. I didn't put on any clothes other than pajamas or leave the house for a solid week after the surgery, and I've only left a couple times since that day.

The good news is that recovery is going well. My foot is healing well and feeling better by the day. This is the minor surgery of the two I have to have, so it's good that this one is out of the way and that it seems to be successful and proceeding well. Fingers crossed it stays that way.

Speaking of two surgeries, I did get the other surgery scheduled this week. It will be April 21. A lady canceled her surgery the same day the scheduler called me, so they were able to get me in way sooner than I expected. I am thrilled about it. It's going to be a much more complicated surgery and a much longer and more difficult recovery, so I just want it done and over with.

The fact that I should be fully recovered by my birthday is just icing on the cake.

Until then, well. it's really just biding time. Nothing exciting happens here. Not in this house. Not in this town.

Can you tell I'm bored out of my mind?

One down, one to go.

Had my surgery this morning. #26. I know. Try to contain your jealousy.

It was successful. No more steel in my left foot.

Doing about as well as can be expected.

Aside from the time I was under anesthesia, I've been awake since 11 am yesterday, so that sucks. Hopefully I will sleep soon.

I'm glad this is over.

Now that it's over, I can heal.

The sooner I heal, the sooner we can get on to the right foot surgery, the much more complicated surgery.

The sooner I get to that surgery, the sooner I can start to heal and maybe get back to my normal and be able to walk semi-reasonable distances.

I want to start walking around the neighborhood for exercise, but I have to have working feet for that.

One step at a time, I guess.

Hopefully by my birthday in June, this will be over.

Hopefully.

Post-op appointment is in ten days, so we'll see.

One step at a time.

No pun intended.

26 and 27

Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen. I'm having surgery again.

Please, please, try to contain your jealousy. We can't all live the exciting life that I do.

All jokes aside, I am indeed having both of my feet operated on again.

The left foot will be done March 17th, provided I get cleared next week (which I don't see why I won't).

That should be a pretty simple surgery, as my surgeon (the same guy who did the original surgeries back in 2010) is just removing the steel he put in there during the first surgery. The steel is pushing up off the bone where it's supposed to be into the top of my foot, so I constantly have a bruise there, and will often get this stabbing pain where it feels like someone is trying to cut the steel in half. The pain is making me instinctively walk on the outside of my foot to try to relieve the pressure, which just adds to the pain.

The right foot surgery is going to be much more complicated as he will be re-breaking the joint where my foot meets my big toe, lengthening that tendon so my toe lays flat down (the tendon is currently very contracted so my toe almost always is pulled way back), and then fusing it in place so it doesn't move at all. He was originally just going to lengthen the tendon, but because of my nerve damage, if he only did that, there is a good chance the tendon would start contracting again, and I'd be right back in the same position I'm in now. It's putting way too much pressure on the ball of my foot and causing massive amounts of pain; I'd really prefer not to go through this again, even if it means having a permanently immobile toe.

So yeah. The next few months are going to be LOADS OF FUN.

I'll be real, y'all. I know I need these surgeries, and I am looking forward to the help they are going to give me, but I'm so tired of this. It's only been six months since my last surgery, just shy of seven by the time this next one comes. This will be 27 surgeries before my 25th birthday. That is not fair by any means of the imagination. And I know that life isn't meant to be fair, but I feel like I live my life in this constant cycle of finding new problems and having to figure out how to fix them just when I think my life is getting back to normal, and I'M TIRED.

It makes me feel broken. People constantly having to cut me open to fix things in me makes me feel like I am broken.

And on top of that, you say the word surgery, and all I can think about is going into cardiac arrest last summer, so even though I usually don't experience any anxiety about a surgery until the night before or even day of, it's still two and a half weeks out and I'm already a ball of nerves.

I'll be okay. Right now, I'm just tired and frustrated and nervous. I'll figure out how to deal with it, though. I always do.

That's pretty much the story of my life, it seems.

Life Now

Well. I definitely wasn't planning on disappearing for a month and a half. But things happen. And I frankly haven't been in the best mindset or had much to write about. Here's a recap:

- going away dinner with my church fam

- last Sunday at church where I was prayed over

- packing

- surgery prep

- surgery, which involved an awful several hours delay they failed to inform me about after Mom and I stayed up all night to be at the hospital at the crack of dawn, but a successful surgery that officially diagnosed me with endometriosis and removed what docs could find

- moved back to NC the day after surgery (thanks to church people loading the truck) (that was a fun 12 hour ride home)

- the week after surgery, I came down with a massive case of bronchitis and a sinus infection, and because my body rejects steroids now, it's been a month of breathing treatments trying to get over it

- I wrote my thesis

- I got an A on my thesis (!!!!!!!!!!)

- now, I'm trying to a) find online work to make some money while I'm stuck home for a year and b) figure out what schools I'm going to apply to for next year's PhD programs

I'm very lonely here. I have heard from practically no one up in NYC, and because I've been so sick and exhausted, I haven't had the energy to reach out to them. Thank God Matt is back in the area now. If I didn't get occasional visits from him, I would have absolutely no one outside of my very dysfunctional family.

I moved from a huge city where I could just walk out my front door and have endless entertainment, to a small town where you have to drive to see anything and I don't have a license or a car, and there's not that much to see anyway. The silence is not good for me. I have been getting way too caught up in my own head thinking about all the people I've lost and all the relationships that have failed and all the things I wish I could change but that I know I can't do anything about. And the fun part about it is that my life isn't going to be changing any time soon.

I did get a call from August today, which is the first time I feel like I've smiled when thinking about New York since I left.

I don't know. This is the way life is for now. I guess I better get used to it.

So then July happened.

Well. Wasn't planning on abandoning my blog for the month of July, but things happened, and I learned that the longer you go without doing something, the easier it is to continue not doing it.

So, let's recap, shall we?

I had a few weeks of seizure hell, but adding yet another medicine seems to be helping. Cross your fingers it stays that way.

I severely sprained my wrist in one of those seizures, which is a large part of the reason why I wasn't blogging, because typing hurts really, really badly and takes a lot of energy.

I'm incredibly behind on my thesis, largely for these two reasons, and it seems like I'm being ghosted by my adviser and department so I can't get an answer on when exactly it's due which is just adding to my stress.

I finally got my surgery set up for August 19th, which is later than the doctor originally told me it was going to happen. I cannot wait for that day to get here because I am miserable from pain.

My depression has been rearing its ugly head for these reasons, but one other one is the biggest reason for it. I'm leaving New York. On August 20th. I don't really have a choice. The financial situation in the family that's been going on for the past year and a half is no longer sustainable, and despite me sending out a crapload of resumes, I didn't get a single callback. So no money. No job. No PhD program acceptance. I have to go back to North Carolina. And I hate it. I HATE IT. I thought when I moved up here, I was finally freeing myself from all of the negativity and drama back there and planned on never going back, and two years later, here I am, headed back to the place I never wanted to live again.

Don't get me wrong. There are things I will be happy about seeing/having/doing regularly again. Like my mom and Blake. And the food. And the beach. And the sports. But the idea of leaving everyone I love here is heartbreaking to me. So I'm really not okay right now. Time is running out quickly in the city I love with people who mean the world to me and it is making me very very sad.

So yeah. That about sums up July. I'll try not to abandon my blog in August.

Now, I continue to wait.

I went to the doctor yesterday. To my surgeon Dr. H, specifically.

It was a combo post-op/let's discuss what to do next that won't kill you appointment.

I wish there were more exciting things to update about but my life is pretty much this crap and job searching.

In short, I have to go to a new surgeon, Dr. B, because Dr. H does not do open abdominal surgeries, and there's not a snowball's chance in hell we're trying a laparoscopy again.

Dr. H is going to call Dr. B this week and inform him on my case and the whole cardiac arrest thing. She's also going to see if there's any way I can get in to see him before next Friday the 8th, when I already have an appointment set up, but that's not a guarantee.

So I'll see him, then set up a new surgery for as quickly as I can get fit into his schedule.

The only unnerving thing about the whole appointment was that I learned my heart was actually stopped closer to two minutes than one, but what can you do? I am alive now.

After that, I went to my regular women's health care doc at the student health center to get the referral for the new surgeon, and I begged her into giving me some Vicodin because I almost passed out in Dr. H's office because of the pain from this week.

I know July 8th isn't really that far away, but I'm so tired of living in this pain all the time. And I'm just praying that it doesn't take weeks for Dr. B to get me into his surgery schedule.

Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying and waiting.

Not My Time Yet

The surgery on Monday didn't go like we planned, to say the least.

And by that, I mean they couldn't even do the surgery. Because it was a laparoscopy, the first step was to inflate my stomach with gas. Usually, when they do this, a patient's blood pressure and heart rate slowly decrease to a low level and remain there during the surgery.

Well, with me, the queen of freak extreme reactions, my heart rate went from 60+ to 0 in just a few seconds.

Yeah, zero.

I flatlined.

I was clinically dead for about a minute, until they managed to restart my heart with drugs and chest compressions.

Needless to say, they stopped the surgery there. I woke up from the anesthesia as they were wheeling me to the post-op, and I remember my first thought being "I should be in a lot more pain than this." Not long after that, the anesthesiologist started talking, and I could only catch bits and pieces of what he was saying, but those bits and pieces were plenty.

"couldn't do the surgery" "heart stopped" "a minute" "epinephrine" "chest compressions"

It's hard enough to figure out where you are when you're coming out of surgery. That's one hell of a wakeup greeting. I immediately started sobbing, but they had an oxygen mask on me, so everything was super dry, so there were no tears, just my whole body shaking. It was...not pleasant. Holly could barely speak when they brought her in there and I told her what happened.

They kept me overnight to monitor my heart and run a couple of tests, just to make sure that my heart was okay and that this was indeed just a rare extreme reaction to the gas. I figured it would be, because I've never had a problem with my heart, surgically or otherwise.

Once I got upstairs, I had to deal with this crazy old lady roommate, so it was about an hour before they moved me and I actually got somewhere comfortable. She was screaming because some friends of mine from church called to pray over me, even though I had headphones in and was speaking barely above a whisper. The nurse was in and out doing things, so I even confirmed with her that I was not being loud (because I know that sometimes I can be without realizing it), and she looked at me and mouthed "No, I'm so sorry." So they moved me to a different section of the floor where I didn't sleep (because I never do in hospitals more than a couple hours) but I at least had some peace and could talk to people without being screamed at. Hospitals make me incredibly anxious when I'm there alone. I was not going to apologize for talking to my people.

The best part of the whole time was getting to FaceTime with two of my soccer boys. They were so, so sweet, and it was really humbling to see how worried they were about me. Don't get me wrong; obviously, I knew they love me, but I just never really thought about how important me being in their lives is to them.

The first one told me that losing me was something he didn't even want to think about as a possibility, and so I just tried to reassure him like "Hey, I'm right here. I'm fine. I'm right here." I was kind of cracking jokes and trying to laugh it off because that's generally how I process stuff like this at first, and he said "You're suppressing the emotions, aren't you? This is the last thing you should be laughing off." I told him that if I didn't laugh, I'd cry, and not long after that, he started crying. That broke my heart. This kid is the type of guy who is always Mr. Stoic, cool, it's all good. The only times I've seen him remotely upset outside of a soccer game loss are the first time he saw me have a seizure and the night he found out I got bullied. So to see him that emotional just at the idea of something happening to me was so, so humbling. The cutest part was that he was practically falling asleep while on FaceTime, but he refused to hang up until he knew that the second guy was awake and was going to call me. He told me "I can't leave you alone right now," but I think that was more for his own sanity than it was for me.

The second brother called me while I was saying goodbye to the first one, and I ended up going out in the hallway to talk to him because at this point it was really late. He told me some of the same things the first one did, about how badly it scared him when I sent him the first text about my heart stopping. He said he and the first guy (they're close friends) had texted each other when they first got my message freaking out. He told me that he refused to let himself cry all day until he got to talk to me because he thought that if he did, he wouldn't stop. That made me feel so bad for scaring them like that, but again, it was just so humbling to hear that stuff from him, about how losing me or something happening to me would kill him. He told me some of the reasons why I was so important to them, and it was honestly so mind-boggling to hear it spelled right out for me. Like I said before, it wasn't that I didn't know they love me, because of course I do, I just didn't really realize how important having me in their lives is to them. They really would miss me if I was gone, and that's something that is incredibly humbling for me, especially because I spent so long before I met these boys really feeling like no one would care if I disappeared. I'm so lucky to be so loved. Anyway, this second brother and I basically spent the rest of the time just cracking jokes and laughing with each other, which is the norm for us, I think because he just didn't want to let himself get emotional over what happened.

I texted them the next morning to let them know nothing had happened overnight, and they told me thank you. Not even kidding.

Tuesday was when the reality of it all really sunk in for me. I mean, I had the words of the anesthesiologist ricocheting around my head all night (I only slept about two hours), but it still sort of  seemed like a dream. No one really wants to think that would happen to them. I broke down crying after I talked to the doctors because it was sinking in for me, but my nurse gave me a hug and helped me calm down. And when I was getting the echocardiogram (basically an ultrasound of my heart) and the tech doing it said that "asystole" was in the order for the scan I was sort of like "Oh crap, this is real. This really wasn't some bad dream."

I got home at like 6:30 on Tuesday, and I was so physically, mentally, and emotionally drained that I basically just collapsed in the chair and didn't move unless absolutely necessary for the next three days almost. Everything about me was exhausted in every sense of the word, but because I was finally in the comfort of my own home and had peace and quiet, the nightmares came out.

All I could think when I was awake about was the fact that I was dead for a minute and barely more than 24 hours after the fact, I was home almost as if nothing happened.

And when I sleep, I've been having variations of the same nightmare: people are nonchalantly telling me I'm gonna die soon and there's nothing I can do about it, and I just keep saying over and over again, "I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die."

You know, I think I do a pretty good job most of the time at accepting the difficulties of the life that I have. A lot of the time, I can even honestly say that I'm grateful for it, because of the ways that I know it has helped people and given me ways to support others through their own struggles. At those points, it's easy for me to focus on the purpose that my life has.

But this week, I've really been struggling with understanding what the point of what happened on Monday was. Why did I need to have another near death experience? This was supposed to be a relatively minor surgery, compared to a lot of the other ones I've had. Is it not enough that I have all of these medical problems to deal with? Does treating them really have to be so freaking complicated, too? Isn't the story I have to tell great enough?

Basically, I'm at that point where I just really wish I could get a break from having to fight so hard to do the most basic things. I don't like feeling or sounding self-pitying, but that's the truth. I'm tired.

So little of this makes sense right now. I feel like I could be handling it a lot better if I just had a little bit of a clue as to what the point is. I know that God's ways are greater than mine and I'm not always supposed to understand, but I'm kind of going, "Can't you just give me a little bit of a clue?!" right now.

It's not a matter of me doubting my faith or anything like that. I know that God is good and faithful as much now as I ever have, and I am so, so grateful to have made it through that surgery alive.

I'm lucky to serve a God who is greater than medical standards and explanations, because God has made it clear that it's not my time to go yet. I guess that, for now, all I can do is try to make the best of the extra chance I've been given.

24

So remember how at the beginning of last month I posted that the lady I'd been seeing in the Women's Health department of the Student Health Center was sending me to an OBGYN specialist/surgeon to be evaluated for endometriosis? Well, I finally got to have that appointment today.

Many times in the past when I've gone to a doctor for the first time, it was a fight to get them to listen to me and work with me instead of acting like they knew my body better than I did. So I was honestly expecting to go in and have to beg this woman to fully evaluate me and agree to do the surgery. It didn't exactly work out like that.

The whole appointment took like twenty minutes. No joke. First the PA came in, looked over the paperwork I had filled out, asked me like five questions, and then said that because I can't have an MRI because of my shunt, we should just go ahead and do surgery, so he explained the basics of the surgery and then said he was going to go get the doctor. A few minutes later, the nurse brought me into the doctor's office. I sat down, and she asked me if I had any questions about what the PA said or the surgery in general. I said no other than when could we do the surgery, and this is where it got a little hard.

She said that after looking at my file and listening to what the PA told her, she is really concerned about what could be going on and wants do to the surgery as soon as possible. So she told me she has an available slot on the 20th and wanted to know if I could get a medical clearance from my primary care before then. The 20th of June. As in less than two weeks away. She said to give her a few minutes and then she would come in and examine me, so I told her I'd go ahead and call and see how soon I could get in to get the medical clearance. Well, I guess because it's summer and most students are gone, but my doc who is usually very busy could get me in basically any time I was available Monday.

Then the doc came in, started examining me and asked if what she was doing was hurting and where. I said all over, and she stopped and basically said "Yep, you need the surgery." I put my clothes back on, walked out, got a folder of pre-admission info, was told someone would call me tomorrow or Monday with info about where and when I needed to be for pre-surgery bloodwork and whatnot, and then I was gone.

When I walked out of the building, I felt like my head was spinning because it all happened so fast. That, and I wasn't expecting them to be able to do surgery so soon. It took more than a month for me to even be seen because she is such a busy doctor, so I thought it would be a while before she had an open surgery slot. Nope. Second, I found out that the surgery is going to be more extensive than I thought it would be because they don't believe in using the lasers like I was expecting.

And also, despite the fact that I've done this so many times, it's still surgery. I like to put on a face for a lot of people that stuff like this is old hat for me and just doesn't bother me anymore, but it does. It bothers me. It's still hard and scary and overwhelming. This is the kind of thing that doesn't get easy to deal with no matter how many times you do it. So by the time I got in the cab to come back home, I was not in a great mindset.

Luckily, I had the forethought last night to have some of my brothers praying for me. So I texted two of them and called one, and long story short, I got pep talks that only my boys could give. When I got to spend close to half an hour on the phone with Tunji, we had each other laughing hysterically. Laughter really is the best medicine. Then I got a nice long FaceTime date with Clayton which is always good for the soul.

But after I got off the phone with him because we were both exhausted, the silence set in. And maybe it's just my 100% extrovert personality or the fact that silence is terrifying for this generation in general, but when I have too much silence, I get way too caught up in my head, and that's when things get ugly. After a couple hours, I was a mess. Enter this guy.

This is my buddy August. He's one of the bouncers at the bar on the block that I mentioned yesterday.  I jokingly like to call him "my knight in a shiny purple headband." He was Jesus in the flesh to me tonight and not only made me smile and laugh, but also helped me get back to a place where I could focus on the truth: God is good and faithful and loves me, and all of this is just one more chapter to add to the incredible story I've been given the chance to tell. He is one of those people that just shines the light of Christ without even trying because of how deeply and passionately he loves everyone he comes across.

God is good, y'all. God is so good. I'm so thankful that I am getting this surgery taken care of, but even more than that, I'm so incredibly thankful for all of the people who showed up today. Near and far, I am surrounded by people who are invested in me, in my physical and emotional wellbeing. These are the people who pick me up when I'm down and refuse to let me go when they see me slipping into the darkness. Second to God, they are the reason why I have the strength that people see in me. There's no way I could do any of this without my Father, but there's also no way I could do this without my people. They are my lifelines.

I'm going to bed tonight with a smile on my face, and ten hours ago, I don't think I could've thought that was possible. Thanks be to God.

I am fine.

Thought you should know.

Is that the angels I hear singing?

Nope, just me.

Me celebrating because I FINALLY!!!!!! got all set for surgery. I went to my physical today with my primary care doctor which was my last hurdle to jump, and I have a copy of the paper that she signed stating that I am "optimized" for surgery.

About. Freaking. Time. This almost 3 months of constant awful pain has been long enough.

The rest of the day has been class, killing time between class and my physical at McDonalds on my phone, buying a notebook in order to start studying my Bible, catching up on a TV show I missed last night because of my way-early bedtime, hanging out at Spiegel to avoid the roommate who is still being awful, television, and then prepping for a presentation tomorrow.

Can someone explain how I got more than the recommended amount of sleep and I'm still so dang tired?

On to tomorrow. 6 days to surgery.

I must have been really tired.

Because one minute, I'm watching my soccer boys in the tournament quarterfinals online around 7:30 pm,

and the next thing I know, it's almost 1 am and I wake up in my bed.

I seriously have no idea how that happened.

Tuesday was good.

I got my neurology clearance! One step closer to surgery.

And then I went to my hospital pre-testing, which was absurdly simple.

But yeah, no blog on time this day because I passed out cold way too early.

What else am I supposed to do?

If I didn't know that I took my anxiety medication this morning, I'd think I had forgotten it because, man, I have been a mess all day today.

And then "it" finally showed up and it all made sense.

But in the process I've had a crappy and emotional day culminating in a fight with the roommate who now won't speak to me. I had to resort to sticking a letter under her door in an attempt to apologize. And I cried, even though I don't think I'm the only one at fault and she still won't speak to me even though in my note I attempted to give her what I thought she was asking for. But if I apologized and she is still mad or whatever, is there anything else I can do?

I hate hormones.

I'm also not really a fan of having a roommate I only met when she moved in. Roommates in general are really hard, but I feel like it would have been easier if either Holly or I had known the person that moved in with us. But we have year leases, so I guess I'm just going to have to suck it up and deal with it and pray she moves out in August.

And tomorrow I have my redo neurology and hospital clearances for surgery, and so I have the added stress on me of trying not to worry that yet another surprise will be thrown at me and my surgery will be delayed again. Ridiculous, maybe, but it's what's in my head.

The one perk of the day is that my UN professor told us we don't have to do reading reviews for the rest of the semester, which eases my workload schedule a good deal. So there's a positive, I guess.

People can have good intentions and still be really annoying.

There's your lesson of the day, folks.

My surgery is postponed. For at least a month. Because of the stupid neurologist who refuses to clear me for surgery until I've been 5-6 weeks seizure-free.

That means, the next possible date I can have surgery is November 18. And that's IF I stay seizure free. But he upped my meds again and my thyroid med has been upped so I am praying that that's enough to make them stop.

I know they say it's "looking out for my best interest" and all that crap, and they probably are doing what they think is my best interest, but a month is a very long time in this much pain. Going through this much work for a shoulder scope is stupid.

So I've had a crap day.

Here's to hoping I get to see a friend that's coming to town tomorrow so that tomorrow will be a better day.

Things in my head tonight.

Doctors need to learn that I know my body better than they do. Do they really think I didn't manage to learn things with a medical history so extensive?

The stonewalling I'm getting for this simple surgery is absurd. I've never seen doctors so obsessive.

I really, really hope they find a neurologist to see me, and that that doc and the endocrinologist I see tomorrow will clear me. If I have to postpone until mid-November, which is when the next open surgery date is, I'm going to be SCREWED when it comes to trying to write my final papers. Plus that's another month without use of my one good arm.

In happier news, Emma is coming to town this weekend and I am absolutely STOKED.

I'm actually doing well at chipping away at my to-do list for the week. It feels good not to be in a panic. It also feels good to know exactly what I'm going to write about in the short paper I need to write for Civil War tomorrow.

Florida State isn't #1 in the polls anymore. That's insane, considering they haven't lost a game in almost two years.

Vaseline cocoa butter lotion? AMAZING. I normally hate using lotion, but I can't get enough of this stuff. Plus, who doesn't like to smell like chocolate?

It's true. Reading in bed really will put you to sleep.

I really need to stop biting my nails.

I keep having dreams about this one particular soccer boy. It's bizarre. I can't figure out what my subconscious is doing sometimes. I also have this recurring dream that I'm naked in public places, but that's for a different blog post...

I miss my mom.

I'm looking forward to the therapy appointment I have on Friday. And I'll be even more looking forward to it if these idiots end up canceling my surgery.

Because really, how can "my best interest" be keeping my one good arm in excruciating pain while I'm trying to be a grad student? I just don't get it.

I think I'll go to bed now. Laying down flat on my back seems to be the one thing that eases the throbbing in my shoulder.

Plus the morning will be here all too quickly.

Do I look like a lion to you?

No?

Because the hoops I'm being expected to jump through to appease the stupid health center so they will clear me for a surgery that is supposed to happen in a week might make you think I'm taking part in one of those lion taming circus acts.

Despite the fact that I have had 22 surgeries, 21 with general anesthesia which they'll be using for my shoulder scope, and the only problem I have had during or after any of those 21 general anesthesia surgeries involved a brain bleed that no amount of clearance preparation could have prevented, I still have to be seen by a neurologist to make sure they don't think my seizures will be a problem...even though this person will never have seen me before and I've had TWENTY TWO SURGERIES without a seizure during or afterwards. And I also have to be seen by a freaking endocrinologist of all things because some thyroid hormone is off in my bloodwork. Because that has a whole hell of a lot to do with my shoulder. And there's a bunch of other stuff that was off in my bloodwork that nobody in the hospital bothered to tell me when I was there!

The miracle is that the head of health care at the student health center managed to get me squeezed in for a thyroid appointment on Wednesday, and she's trying to find me a neurologist to get clearance from them. Since the original guy I saw on the 1st told the hospital when I was admitted that I should be seen by someone else since he is not an epilepsy specialist, then the doctor the hospital referred me to doesn't take my insurance, and the doctor THEY sent me to has been on vacation for more than two weeks and the receptionist yelled at me and told me she had my number and would call me when they could make an appointment and not to call back. So basically I can't get cleared because doctors refuse to see me. Which is not my fault.

Because apparently me knowing my medical history by heart, and telling them I have never had an anesthesia problem, a seizure during or post surgery, and them redoing bloodwork isn't enough for them. This is absolutely ridiculous for a freaking shoulder scope. I MIGHT understand it if I were having brain surgery or something. And I wouldn't be so frustrated if it was just about redoing bloodwork because that will only take a couple days, and if that were it I could still get clearance in plenty of time before surgery, but no, I have to have stupid specialist appointments for a surgery that is almost identical to the surgeries I had on each of my knees in which I NEVER HAD A PROBLEM.

They told me to still go to my anesthesiologist appointment tomorrow, and I'm to call the head of health care while I'm there so she can talk to the anesthesiologist, so I seriously hope that I can get this person on my side, because if I have to deal with one more doctor acting like they know me better than I do and standing in the way of SUCH a simple surgery, I may end up doing a whole lot more than the sobbing I did today in the clinic.

I NEED to have this surgery done ASAP so I can have full use of my arm in time to get the 75 pages of writing I have due in the beginning of December. Plus, I simply can't go on in this much pain since the orthopedic guy I started out seeing thinks I'm a drug addict and refuses to give me more pain meds, and I also can't keep going on much longer without real use of the one good arm that I have.

I don't know if you can tell, but doctors aggravate the hell out of me.

On hope and gratitude when it's hard.

Fair warning, this is probably not going to be a pretty or very well-written post. I have things in my head and on my heart that I just need to put somewhere.

Whether or not I show it, getting the news that I have to have surgery has this tendency to sort of knock me off my game for a day or two. I know, you'd think after 22 of them, I'd be a little more used to it than most people, and in some ways I am, but in other ways, it hits me like a ton of bricks even worse now than it did before.

Maybe it's because now it's happening in the middle of a semester, and so I have added school stress on top of it.

Maybe it's because this is the first time in my life that my mom isn't here to hold my hand through it, and I can't lean on Holly anywhere close to the way I could lean on my mom. And growing up and being completely on my own is scary. I'm just being real here. It's scary.

Or maybe it's simply because I'm freaking exhausted of hearing that I have yet another reason to need surgery. Like, really? The first 22 times weren't enough? Somebody found something else on my body that's messed up; they haven't run out of things to operate on yet? I guess it's like hearing that I need to have surgery again is a very in-my-face reminder of just how broken the body I live with every day really is. And no matter how many times it happens, that's never an easy thing to come to terms with. I'm tired of being in pain. I'm tired of surgeries. I'm tired of not responding to treatments the way doctors expect. I'm just tired. I want to be healed...more than anyone knows.

But I watched a video today of a talk from one of my favorite authors, Angie Smith. The funny thing is, it was at a conference for moms, and a lot of it was directed towards parenting, but I watched it, and it really spoke to me. Angie talked about how we all need to live in the moment, right now, and be thankful for right now, even when it's hard and messy and we don't understand what's going on. Because God has given us this moment to LIVE. We don't have to get angry at ourselves because we're not dealing with it the way we think we're supposed to, the way we think the "better Christians" would. All God is asking is that we trust that He is good and He is working and He is ENOUGH to get us through, day-by-day, whatever it is that we are facing. I may have to have another surgery in two weeks, but you know what? At least I'm still alive to have that surgery. Because talk to pretty much any doctor that's ever treated me, and they'll tell you that it's a miracle I'm still here. And I know full well by now just Who is responsible for that miracle. The gift that He has given me in surviving the trials of my past, in still being alive today, in waking up this morning, that is something to make me say, "Thank you, God!"

I'm gonna be totally real here. Some days, I forget that God is enough, that Jesus overcame the world, that the battle I feel caught up in was won a long time ago. But He is, he did, and it was. And as Angie said in her talk, this life that I see, the one filled with pain and medical problems, it's only a tiny piece of the scroll. There's an eternity waiting for me where I won't have to deal with any of this and I will get the healing that I so desperately long for. I just can't see it yet.

Best of all, I will be face to face with my Creator, who breathed my life into existence more than 22 years ago, and continues to breathe life back into my weary soul every single day.

And that, my friends, is where I find the hope that I hold on to. That's why I'm still grateful for this life that I have, no matter how frustrated I get by the trials I face.

Just as I suspected.

The idiot doctor I'd been seeing at the student health center for my shoulder did not explain to me the full details of my injury. He made it seem like it was just this tiny little tear, no big deal, and I shouldn't still be in pain and blah blah I need to get over it. Well, the surgeon doctor today told me that the tear is big enough that it has caused an area of the tissue to completely separate from the shoulder socket bone that it is supposed to be attached to. And so the longer I go on, the chances are high that that separation is just going to get worse and cause even greater pain than I am already experiencing. Surgeon doctor said I had two options, physical therapy and surgery, and since physical therapy will cost me at least $30 per session, and I tried it when I tore cartilage in my knees and it didn't work and I still had to have surgery, I wasn't too keen on spending money on something that may or may not work and might just end up delaying an inevitable surgery anyway. He said he completely understood that and so, okay, we'll do surgery (the stupid health center doctor also said he couldn't imagine that this surgeon doctor would want to do surgery, so...wrong again, bucko!)

The good news is that they have an opening two weeks from tomorrow, and my little 24-hour hospital stay a few days ago was in NYU's medical center, and I ended up already having had done all the tests they needed pre-surgery, which eliminated a lot of hassle. I even had a chest x-ray done which made absolutely no sense to me at the time!

The only possible hold up that could prevent me having the surgery done on the 21st is I have to get clearance from this new epilepsy specialist that the hospital docs arranged for me to go to. Because I injured my shoulder to begin with in falls during seizures, they don't want to operate and then have me just fall on it again. So basically I just have to get a letter from the epilepsy guy saying they're doing everything they can for me.

But yeah, other than that, I have to go to the student health center so a primary care doctor there can fill out some medical clearance form and fax it back to the surgeon's office and already have an appointment for next Monday the 13th, and then on the 14th go to the hospital and have a totally normal pre-surgery anesthesiologist meeting. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. The anesthesiologist meeting and surgery are both only done on Tuesdays, and the health center couldn't fit me in for the clearance appointment next Monday, which is why it is spread out like this.

But being spread out like that also gives me a little bit of time to talk to my professors and get class stuff in order. Since I don't have class on Friday, and the surgery will be on a Tuesday, I should only miss two days of class and then be back the following Monday.

So yeah. That's the plan. Here we go again...