It is common practice for doctors and nurses to ask how bad it hurts. I have a pretty high pain tolerance and will rarely let on that i am in pain. For example, in June I went to brunch and to see RENT with my mother a friend. My friend and i were going to car-pool from Mo-town to the cafe in Portland where we would meet my mom. When i woke up that morning i was sick to my stomach. I feel this way....mmm.....maybe once a month. I hang out with the porcelain goddess for a hot minute, get it out of my system, and walk it off. After that, i'm able to act like a normal human being. For some reason, that morning was different. I got in the car with my friend and still didnt feel right but was determined to get to breakfast (we were going to the Arleta Library Cafe after we saw a great feature on the Food Network) and see RENT. Long story short....I had to stop a few times due to a really upset stomach and shortly after our breakfast arrived at our table, I left my mom and friend to go take a quick nap in the back seat of my mom's car. We made it to the show and even though i felt a little like death, I had a great time (5th time seeing the show and we had AWESOME seats). I went back to my mom's house rather than hoofing it back to Mo-town that night and took one of the best naps i have ever had. When i woke up i still had a temperature of 103. By the end of the day, my friend was shocked at how un-phased i looked. I think she was expecting me to whine or complain. But that's not how i roll. I know that i had every option to stay home and sleep it off, but we had plans...the end.
It was this instance that made me realize how much i do NOT take care of myself. Actually, it made me realize how much i hate being taken care of or vulerable or weak. I know that if i am sick being taken care of will be more than a little difficult for me. I am so used to putting on a brave face and dealing with "it."
Yesterday i was having the worst cramps of my life. I get pretty bad cramps every month (even though i generally don't have a period); i would say between a 7.5 and 8.5 on the pain scale. I take a few advil and continue the daily business. Yesterday was different. These were the normal monthly cramps but with a twist. It felt like there was an alien trying to cut itself out of my body. I wanted to trow up, scream, and pass out all in the same breath. My mom and I went to see Julie & Julia at the local theatre and all the way through i was hurting. I had to do some breathing exercises to help calm myself down and bring in some positive energy. On our way home i was pinching my self to try and distract myself. Finally, i couldn't deal with it anymore....i started crying. The pain was definately at a 9.5 or 10. There is no exaggeration....it was the worst pain i have EVER been in. My mom, shocked i think, just kept driving and let me have a moment.
"Don't worry, Honey," she said. "It will get taken care of soon."
I was driving back to Mo-town and thought about why i was suddenly in such a different pain. I have a few thoughts. First, the 4.5 ball-of-fun is starting to attack my insides and my body is fighting back. I was imagining a war inside my uterus with my organs and other insides turning into cartoon characters with really great accents. I imagined the ball-of-fun sporting a 1980's hair-do, german accent, and cigarette saying things like "i like eet ere....i zink i vill mofe in." My uterus is transformed into Chris Rock and is screaming at the ball-of-fun; "Bitch, this apartment is NOT for rent. Does it look like i need roommates? i sure as fuck don't. now...get the hellllll outta here." My ovaries are just sitting up there, stoned, trying to make intelligable contributions to the conversation. Instead, they are just giggling and making plans to walk to Taco Bell for a grande soft taco, nachos, dr. pepper, and 87 order of cinna-twists. My second thought is that the new medications are intensifying the pain this month. My hope is that this won't be every month because i refuse to turn into a stereotypical 1950's teenager with a note to get out of gym class. (FYI body, I am in charge of you....not the other way around.) My third thought is that the stress of the past month is finally catching up with me and my emotions are officially manifesting themselfs as physical pain. My fourth, final, and most drastic thought is that something's going wrong. I think i like option one the best. It's at least the most entertaining.
24 August 2009
22 August 2009
Your Team!!!
a co-worker found this video and it has been one of the greatest stress-relievers at work. In fact, for those of you that know the game "Your Team" I have adopted a team name from this video. I am officially manager of Team Handerpants.
Watch.
Laugh.
Cry a little if you need to.
Watch.
Laugh.
Cry a little if you need to.
Wedding Bells!!
Wedding bells seem to be following me. These bells are not for me (cause it's not legal), but for some of my dearest friends.
Kristen is one of my college buds, a member of the framily (you know,friends that turn into your family). She sent me a text message last night with a picture of a beautiful ring on her hand with the words "I'm engaged!!!" I am so excited for her party and for her marriage. Moose is a great man and will be a great husband and partner for her.
Sarah is truly my other half. She is getting married on New Year's in Phoenix. I tried on the dress that I am wearing to her party this morning and i noticed how wonderful it twirls. For Sarah, a dress is only worthy of wear if it twirls right. Sarah lets me bring out my really really girly side and i love that about her. Chris, her fiance (pronounced in "Sarah" as f-eye-awnce), is funny, serious, driven, supportive, and truly keeps Sarah grounded.
Jennie, another college bud, married the man of her dreams this past May. From them moment we met Jason, we (the framily) knew that Jason was Jennie's match. Her wedding was in Missoula and brought the framily together from all over the country....a weekend needed indeed!
Jenny (AKA Barney), a friend from high school, got married to a wonderful man earlier this year. Rick is pretty much a male-version of Barney and it is a riot to watch them together. They laugh like it's their job, love their children fiercely, and truly honor and respect each other. They are going to be great role models for their babies and i know they will build a strong family.
Basically, i am so happy from my friends and can not wait to watch your lives as couples unfold.
Kristen is one of my college buds, a member of the framily (you know,friends that turn into your family). She sent me a text message last night with a picture of a beautiful ring on her hand with the words "I'm engaged!!!" I am so excited for her party and for her marriage. Moose is a great man and will be a great husband and partner for her.
Sarah is truly my other half. She is getting married on New Year's in Phoenix. I tried on the dress that I am wearing to her party this morning and i noticed how wonderful it twirls. For Sarah, a dress is only worthy of wear if it twirls right. Sarah lets me bring out my really really girly side and i love that about her. Chris, her fiance (pronounced in "Sarah" as f-eye-awnce), is funny, serious, driven, supportive, and truly keeps Sarah grounded.
Jennie, another college bud, married the man of her dreams this past May. From them moment we met Jason, we (the framily) knew that Jason was Jennie's match. Her wedding was in Missoula and brought the framily together from all over the country....a weekend needed indeed!
Jenny (AKA Barney), a friend from high school, got married to a wonderful man earlier this year. Rick is pretty much a male-version of Barney and it is a riot to watch them together. They laugh like it's their job, love their children fiercely, and truly honor and respect each other. They are going to be great role models for their babies and i know they will build a strong family.
Basically, i am so happy from my friends and can not wait to watch your lives as couples unfold.
21 August 2009
The Plan: part one
On August 3, I went in for two ultrasounds (one internal and one external) to examine whatever my doc was feeling a few days earlier. I was nervous about this appointment....partially for what i might see on the screen or the reaction of the technician. But mostly, i was nervous about peeing. I had to drink 32 ounces of water in the hour and a half before my appointment and i couldn't use the restroom for two full hours before the appointment!!! I pee A LOT.....prolly every 30-45 minutes! 2 hours felt like punishment.
By the time i got to the hospital i thought i was going to pee my pants. My appointment was at 4:00. I wasn't called in until 4:10. I was ushered to a changing room and changed into a very chic hospital gown. I was waiting there for such a long time that i started taking pictures with my phone of my best "model pose" and sending them to some of my friends to critique....i was trying to smile with my eyes. Finally (!) at 4:25, I was called back to the exam room where I met Alex, the technician, and he did the external ultrasound. Before we started I looked at Alex and said, in an attempt to be funny (cause i was nervous and that's what i do), "I know you can't say anything, but i need you to tell me if you see a baby in there. Cause if you see a baby.....we have bigger problems."
"Why? Are you on birth control"
"Well.....gay. Thus, my dilemma."
He laughed and started the external ultrasound. This is the part where i had to really concentrate on NOT peeing...he had to press quite hard to get a good picture of my insides and i thought i was going to lose it!!! About three minutes into the external ultrasound, Alex asked if I was there to get images of my bicornuate uterus. I told him that i was there to get a picture of what was in there...my doctor and I were unsure. SURPRISE! Not only did i not know i had a bicornuate uterus - i didnt even know what that meant! I radded that to the mental list of things to look up when i got home. Alex was finished with the external ultrasound in about ten minutes and as soon as he finished, I jumped out of the bed and ran to the nearest restroom. I was so relieved!
For the internal ultrasound a woman named Sharon joined us....to make sure Alex was kosher... and we started the test. I did the best i could to make sense of the images on the monitor above my head. I asked Alex questions about what he was doing and he answered the best he could. I watched the screen as measurements were taken (110 mm....i need to remember that), he examined my ovaries and took sound images (the left one didn't have a "heart beat".....write that down, sarah), he labeled the masses (three total). I remembered the advice i got before my MRI in February: don't pay too much attention.....let the doctor interpret the data; but really didn't give it much heed.
After the tests were done, I took my time dressing and took a leisurely drive down to Corvallis for dinner with some friends. I had one of them convert those 110mm into inches...about 4.5. I vented. I listened to their stories about life. We had a good dinner and I made myself focus on the moment. I knew that my thoughts would be consumed with all of this news in the weeks leading up to my follow-up on the 25th so i wanted to focus on being with good company. The women i was with that night encouraged me to laugh and let me be real about the whole situation. I was nervous and scared. we sat in silence for a moment as someone tried to think of a way to lighten the mood after the gravity of the situation set in. I have three masses in my uterus....the largest is 4.5".
The doc's words were ringing in my ears: "if it is between 4 and 5 inches we are going to get aggressive."
By the time i got to the hospital i thought i was going to pee my pants. My appointment was at 4:00. I wasn't called in until 4:10. I was ushered to a changing room and changed into a very chic hospital gown. I was waiting there for such a long time that i started taking pictures with my phone of my best "model pose" and sending them to some of my friends to critique....i was trying to smile with my eyes. Finally (!) at 4:25, I was called back to the exam room where I met Alex, the technician, and he did the external ultrasound. Before we started I looked at Alex and said, in an attempt to be funny (cause i was nervous and that's what i do), "I know you can't say anything, but i need you to tell me if you see a baby in there. Cause if you see a baby.....we have bigger problems."
"Why? Are you on birth control"
"Well.....gay. Thus, my dilemma."
He laughed and started the external ultrasound. This is the part where i had to really concentrate on NOT peeing...he had to press quite hard to get a good picture of my insides and i thought i was going to lose it!!! About three minutes into the external ultrasound, Alex asked if I was there to get images of my bicornuate uterus. I told him that i was there to get a picture of what was in there...my doctor and I were unsure. SURPRISE! Not only did i not know i had a bicornuate uterus - i didnt even know what that meant! I radded that to the mental list of things to look up when i got home. Alex was finished with the external ultrasound in about ten minutes and as soon as he finished, I jumped out of the bed and ran to the nearest restroom. I was so relieved!
For the internal ultrasound a woman named Sharon joined us....to make sure Alex was kosher... and we started the test. I did the best i could to make sense of the images on the monitor above my head. I asked Alex questions about what he was doing and he answered the best he could. I watched the screen as measurements were taken (110 mm....i need to remember that), he examined my ovaries and took sound images (the left one didn't have a "heart beat".....write that down, sarah), he labeled the masses (three total). I remembered the advice i got before my MRI in February: don't pay too much attention.....let the doctor interpret the data; but really didn't give it much heed.
After the tests were done, I took my time dressing and took a leisurely drive down to Corvallis for dinner with some friends. I had one of them convert those 110mm into inches...about 4.5. I vented. I listened to their stories about life. We had a good dinner and I made myself focus on the moment. I knew that my thoughts would be consumed with all of this news in the weeks leading up to my follow-up on the 25th so i wanted to focus on being with good company. The women i was with that night encouraged me to laugh and let me be real about the whole situation. I was nervous and scared. we sat in silence for a moment as someone tried to think of a way to lighten the mood after the gravity of the situation set in. I have three masses in my uterus....the largest is 4.5".
The doc's words were ringing in my ears: "if it is between 4 and 5 inches we are going to get aggressive."
The Start: walking out with a plan
I am counting down the days until Wednesday. Well, actually, I am counting down the hours and minutes and seconds until Wednesday. At 8am on the morning on the 26th, I will be sitting in a sterile doctor's office chatting with Bad-Ass Barbie about the 4.5" ball of weirdness that is inside of my uterus and my floppy ovary.
I am sitting on my couch, the Friday night before, frustrated with the lack of stories from women my age. I am facing a pool of unknowns and can not find resources or outlets or solace from women in my shoes. So, with Project Runway as my soundtrack, this blog is transforming into a space for me to document my journey with Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome.
In late July, I went to my annual appointment with my gynecologist. It had actually been two years...mainly because I was scared. Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome runs in my family and my mother, noticing some symptoms in me, encouraged me to chat with my doctor about PCOS as a possible answer to my issues. Since I was 16, my period has been VERY irregular, cramps that knocked me out; i put on weight like it was my job and no matter what i tried i could not lose any weight; horrible acne; and my personal "favorite" excess hair, hirsutism. This symptom is, by far, the most difficult to deal with. I am constantly aware of my face and the male-pattern growth on my body; i do not, by any stretch of the imagination, feel feminine or pretty or desirable with black hairs sprouting where ever they want. When i start to think about this symptom and/or talk about it with friends, family, and medical professionals, i instantly well up and my heart gets lodged in my throat. I want, more than anything, to feel confident when i wake up in the morning....no make up...just my naked face.
When i went my doctor 2 years ago I chatted with her about PCOS and the possibility of a diagnosis for me. This doctor just told me i didn't have it. I was so ill-prepared to stand up for myself that i didn't push her to test my hormone levels or do ultrasounds. I took her non-diagnosis and left the office. Over the next two years, my periods were still rare but painful; the hair on my face was getting heavier and harder to deal with; and i started having more and more sharp, shooting, pains in my abdomen.
This spring i did more and more research on PCOS and made an appointment with a new doctor, a woman brand-new to Oregon with a Doctorate of Osteopathic Medicine. I decided that i was going to go into this appointment and not walk out without a plan and a diagnosis. I was positive that I have been living with PCOS for a few years and I had gotten to the point that not knowing was more damaging, mostly to my soul, than knowing and not doing anything about it. Without a confirmed diagnosis, i couldn't do anything to help myself.
I walked into my appointment on July 30 prepared to fight. I was the first appointment for the day so there was no waiting or stalling. My doctor walked in, dressed in head-to-toe bubblegum pink with blonde hair and one of the more glorious tans i had seen for a while. Immediately i thought, "oh fuck....Barbie's my gyno." We started talking about PCOS, my family's history, and my symptoms. Without hesitation, the doc looked at me and said, "You have it. There is no doubt in my mind. I can tell just by looking at you." At that point, i started crying....it was such a relief to be validated. I was such a relief to know that i would walk out with a plan. It was such a relief to know that it would get better....or at least more manageable.
As we chatted about PCOS, the doc said that (worst-case scenario) should she feel anything suspect, I would be going in for an ultrasound and we would do a full blood work-up. if i have any cysts or growths or masses between 4 and 5 inches, we would "get aggressive." I wasn't totally sure what that meant or how that simple sentence could change the route of the rest of my 2009. During the exam, the doc looked up at me and said, with a puzzled look, "hunh...you have a very large uterus." Of course, my nervous humor took over. "Thanks," i said, as i flipped my hair.
The doc finished the exam, took her gloves off, and said, "well, Sarah....this is worst-case scenario. I don't like what i feel so we are going to get aggressive." I was set up with prescriptions as an attempt to even out my hormones, appointments were made for ultrasounds and a follow-up. I did what i planned to do.....I was walking out with a plan.
I am sitting on my couch, the Friday night before, frustrated with the lack of stories from women my age. I am facing a pool of unknowns and can not find resources or outlets or solace from women in my shoes. So, with Project Runway as my soundtrack, this blog is transforming into a space for me to document my journey with Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome.
In late July, I went to my annual appointment with my gynecologist. It had actually been two years...mainly because I was scared. Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome runs in my family and my mother, noticing some symptoms in me, encouraged me to chat with my doctor about PCOS as a possible answer to my issues. Since I was 16, my period has been VERY irregular, cramps that knocked me out; i put on weight like it was my job and no matter what i tried i could not lose any weight; horrible acne; and my personal "favorite" excess hair, hirsutism. This symptom is, by far, the most difficult to deal with. I am constantly aware of my face and the male-pattern growth on my body; i do not, by any stretch of the imagination, feel feminine or pretty or desirable with black hairs sprouting where ever they want. When i start to think about this symptom and/or talk about it with friends, family, and medical professionals, i instantly well up and my heart gets lodged in my throat. I want, more than anything, to feel confident when i wake up in the morning....no make up...just my naked face.
When i went my doctor 2 years ago I chatted with her about PCOS and the possibility of a diagnosis for me. This doctor just told me i didn't have it. I was so ill-prepared to stand up for myself that i didn't push her to test my hormone levels or do ultrasounds. I took her non-diagnosis and left the office. Over the next two years, my periods were still rare but painful; the hair on my face was getting heavier and harder to deal with; and i started having more and more sharp, shooting, pains in my abdomen.
This spring i did more and more research on PCOS and made an appointment with a new doctor, a woman brand-new to Oregon with a Doctorate of Osteopathic Medicine. I decided that i was going to go into this appointment and not walk out without a plan and a diagnosis. I was positive that I have been living with PCOS for a few years and I had gotten to the point that not knowing was more damaging, mostly to my soul, than knowing and not doing anything about it. Without a confirmed diagnosis, i couldn't do anything to help myself.
I walked into my appointment on July 30 prepared to fight. I was the first appointment for the day so there was no waiting or stalling. My doctor walked in, dressed in head-to-toe bubblegum pink with blonde hair and one of the more glorious tans i had seen for a while. Immediately i thought, "oh fuck....Barbie's my gyno." We started talking about PCOS, my family's history, and my symptoms. Without hesitation, the doc looked at me and said, "You have it. There is no doubt in my mind. I can tell just by looking at you." At that point, i started crying....it was such a relief to be validated. I was such a relief to know that i would walk out with a plan. It was such a relief to know that it would get better....or at least more manageable.
As we chatted about PCOS, the doc said that (worst-case scenario) should she feel anything suspect, I would be going in for an ultrasound and we would do a full blood work-up. if i have any cysts or growths or masses between 4 and 5 inches, we would "get aggressive." I wasn't totally sure what that meant or how that simple sentence could change the route of the rest of my 2009. During the exam, the doc looked up at me and said, with a puzzled look, "hunh...you have a very large uterus." Of course, my nervous humor took over. "Thanks," i said, as i flipped my hair.
The doc finished the exam, took her gloves off, and said, "well, Sarah....this is worst-case scenario. I don't like what i feel so we are going to get aggressive." I was set up with prescriptions as an attempt to even out my hormones, appointments were made for ultrasounds and a follow-up. I did what i planned to do.....I was walking out with a plan.
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