Once More Unto the Breach, Dear Friends

Although I’m not King Henry and I’m not battling the French, I am in need of a speech of valor.

I landed in the ER this past Saturday, and was kept overnight until I could prove I could keep down semi-solid food. Ready for this? It was exactly a year — to the day — since I first had these symptoms (severe gut pain and nausea, leaving me doubled over and barfing up everything I’ve eaten during the past month, or so it seemed).

In 2008, these symptoms culminated in five trips to the ER, two surgeries, a ten-day hospital stay, loads of unpleasant tests, including two colonoscopies within five days. Even so, I was left with inconclusive results and the likelihood that my symptoms would return. Possibly in the form of another gut obstruction.

Once more, this past Saturday, all tests seemed inconclusive and every doc I talked to told me a different story. But this time I’m dealing with the U of M hospital, which is at least a research hospital. Perhaps these docs will actually try to find out what is CAUSING my symptoms. Not that I’m going to hold my breath. I see one specialist in two weeks. The other appointment hasn’t been set up yet. I’m supposed to call the hospital if I don’t hear from them in seven days.  Unless I land back in the ER.

I’ll keep you posted. Once more.

Am I Better?

When I sleep tons, and I mean 10-12 hours or more, I feel okay. As long as I do nothing. I can do some things, like walk a little, do my physical therapy (very mild) exercises, continue to unpack boxes, go shopping, cook, pay bills, write in my journal, or even work on a small volunteer project. But I must usually pick one of those things per day. Really. If I do more, I will pay.

This is especially true since the separation from my husband is not  complete, and we can’t agree, so he’s insisting we go to court, which will drag this out for at least a year. Which reminds me, I need to drive to court to make sure they get my change of address (I moved last month to a hopefully permanent apartment… moving again may kill me). I am certain the stress of this unexpected change is wearing on me.

I periodically push myself to do a large volunteer project just to test the waters, which usually wipes me out for a week or two after, depending on the demands of the project (big pushes and late nights = bad idea).

But then, I’m not being rushed to the ER every two weeks in excruciating pain like last year. That’s an improvement. I think I am physically feeling better, but only when I do nearly nothing.

So am I better? I really really don’t know.

Missing Mom

Man, how many times per year can they make an official day for me to miss my mother? She died of lung cancer in 2001, but it seems like just yesterday. As it turns out, I miss her every day. But holidays are especially difficult, particularly Mother’s Day. I feel robbed.

Wherever you are, Mom, thanks for everything. Loving you still.

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