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.

great lines

"When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, i make an occasional cheese dip."
~A Confederacy of Dunces

"You can not fully understand something unless you can teach it to your grandmother." ~Einstein

"Life you life in a manner that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrott to the town gossip." ~Will Rogers

Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion, for every opinion now accepted was once eccentric. ~Bertrand Russell

the smallest of favors

i drove along the river with the sun kissing my skin, i watched the city water the dead. the small cemetery, with it's garden of generations of glenwood natives, sat still and drank in all that the current citizens could offer them. There were no flowers adorning the headstones, no flags marking the plots of the humble service men who lost their lives protecting the people of the small town they spent their lives, no families visiting their lost loves. All theat stood were six sprinkler heads spread thoughtout the grounds spraying their water about the tenants; tall, rusty, and satisfying.
It seemed appropriate that in this small sleepy town the only one to attend to the dead would be the one man who sets a seasonal timer. No one there except the passers by to make sure that their tax dollars are being spent well.
What would they think? Do the ghosts and spectors who haunt glenwood springs even know they are being attended to? Are they starving for more? Are they disappointed in those who put them there? What else do they want?

to thine self be true

If i have only learned one thing while living in colorado, it is that there is nothing more important than being completely true to my own morals and values.
Today, whilst walking around the meadows and hanging with amy, i saw a simple silver cuff with those words engraved on them. There were only two hanging on the model. First, i called kat to tell her as that has been her mantra for as long as i have known her. Then, as i told amy about them she suggested that we get them as "best friends" bracelets. As cheese-ball as that sounds, that is the best idea i have heard in a long time. Amy and i have become so close so quickly. It's funny. When she started in her newest position i didn't have enough faith in her. Her success taught me that there is nothing greater gift a person can give than their honest faith. I thought that she could do the technical part of the job but i was worried about her ability to connect as a supervisor with a group a students who were initially her peers. She has taught me that as long as i can hold on to my confidence and determiniation, there is nothing that i can not do. She has taught me that as long as i remember who i am, the values that i hold dear, and my convictions as a professional, there is nothing that i cannot accomplish. She has taught me that the only critic who matters is myself. If i can do my job well and fall asleep with a smile on my face then i have done a good job. She has taught me that i need to do all that i can do in every situation so that i can say, "there is nothing left for me to do." She has been a model leader and shown me the definition of leading by example. Mostly, she has made me laugh so hard, every day; and she has been one of the most consistent ears and shoulders and compassionate souls i ahve had here.
i can't believe that i ever doubted her.
i can't believe i have to learn to live without her constant presence in oregon.

"yes, and..."

...a stab at short ficition. i havent been here in a while, so i thought i shake off the rust.

there are lines of poetry that spill out of these hills. the soil speaks different words to different people. tonight i heard the hills tell a group a teenage boys that they could fly like icarus and i saw their minds draw blue prints of their wax wings. One boy, i imagine his name to be brad, he had wings with feathers plucked from his father's big dreams of the duke jersey, crowds painting #5 on their cheeks, co-eds flocking to his perfectly sculpted point guards body, and half time pep talks with coach k. The wax was his guilt, saddness, shame, and disappointment. Another boy, looking like a Jack, had two big, beautiful, sturdy wings made from the hair and heart strings of his true love. the wax was her patience and sincerity; she wept tears into to it, over other boys, so that it matched the color of her eyes. the last boy, griffin, didnt have wings. he had two sturdy legs and a backpack. he was independent and self reliant and sure. he was the boy that would grow to be the man that the other, lesser men, would dream about being. Griffin would be the man who will have every thing he needs when he picks up a handful of the earth. eh will have a lover, companion, teacher, and friend all in one scoop of soil. he will have this where ever he is and whenever he wants. he will be provided for and able to give as well.
eventually, when these boys, brad, jack, and griffin, come back together as men, they will be just as they are now. their friendship will have remained constant through griffin's isolation, brad's failed marriage, and the loss of jack's thrid child. they will all want what the others have: the love and devotion of children, wild adventures with mother nature, and legions of adoring fans. they will think aloud about the secrets the hills and mountains and streams of colorado have told them and realize that mother nature was not letting them in on some divine secret; she was saying "yes, and..."