Well, it's almost that time, but first-
The trip to California was awesome. The drive wasn't so bad after we made it through the mountains. I hate driving on the side of a cliff. The whole time I had my camera and my dad's and I was taking pictures with both, pretty much just aiming the thing at the window and pressing a button with out looking. We didn't really have a set destination, but we had discussed San Fransisco and that's where we ended up. We stayed in Vallejo for two nights. Took a day trip into San Fransisco and first off, toll booths can suck a dong.
My aunt Sandy had run away from Minnesota when she was in her mid-teens. She ended up in San Fransisco during the "Summer of Love". We went to Golden Gate Park where she and her friends had spent time doing all sorts of illegal activities. We also saw the place she lived in, just down the block from "Haight and Ashbury". That general feeling of being free and a sense of a community within a community is still alive. There's still many people down there doing the same thing that was done 40 years ago. It's quite a beautiful part of the city, really.
We did some normal tourist-y things, too. We drove around for awhile, relying on my dad's nifty GPS system to get us around. We spent the rest of the day at Fisherman's Wharf and took a boat tour around the bay. It went under the Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz which was way sweet. We didn't actually go on the island; all the tours were booked up. Took some awesome pictures and finally got to see the ocean for the first time.
When we left SF, we drove to Santa Cruz. It was a pretty drive, but I admit, I was getting crabby and just wanted to get into a hot shower and go to bed. Drove back to Vallejo and ended up doing just that.
We left the next morning to drive back to Medford. We stopped at a casino but they were lame and you had to be 21 to gamble. My dad won a hundred bucks, though so it was not a wasted detour. The drive back was calm; California was sunny and I didn't want to leave.
The past few days I've just been relaxing. Hanging out in town for a few hours with my dad. It's been pretty cool having him here, we haven't just hung out in years.
Right now, it's about 4 hours away from when we have to leave to go to the hospital. I still need to pack a bag and shower with their special soap. I'm getting pretty nervous. I had to stop eating and drinking at midnight, and although I was hungry, I wasn't at the same time. I forced myself to eat, sat down and started writing this, got about three words down and promptly threw up. I get a bit more freaked out by the minute, but I've been proud at the way I've been keeping it at bay for the past few days. I've had a ton of destractions which has obviously helped.
I've also had a lot of support from many surprising places. My family have been there from the start. I haven't had too many friends the past year or so, but the ones that have stuck have been amazing. I've also made a few really awesome friends since this has started. They know who they are and they have been absolutly wonderful. Everyone at Cracked/PWoT has been amazing. They sure are a bunch of dicks, but when it really matters, they're always around.
Anywho- Once I get to the hospital, I get to dick around for awhile, probably signing a bunch of paperwork and then getting all doped up. Hopefully in that order. Once surgery goes down, as soon as I'm lucid enough I'll be texting a good pal on PWoT to have him post in the thread I have there. I won't be able to update this for a few days, most likely. The headache I'm supposed to have for the next few weeks will make it difficult for me to concentrate on anything so the next post will probably consist of a face mash on the keyboad and telling my mom to hit the post button. I supposidly will have dranage packs up my nose, facial swelling and matching black eyes so there's always that to look forward to.
Once again, thanks for reading, all your well wishes and keeping me in your thoughts. It's greatly appreciated.
Cheers, mates!
~Emily
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Karaoke, St Patricks Day, Teeth Cleaning and Things Shoved Up My Nose.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day! (For another few hours on the west coast, anyway.)
I spent most of the day running around the town. I had an appointment with the ENT dude who shoved a microscope up my nose. It was pretty swell. I also had a dentist appointment. Yay getting your teeth cleaned!
I'm going to be in California for the next few days. I'm bringing my laptop with but I'm not sure if I'll get the chance to get online.
Also, there's a thread over at PWOT/Cracked where we sing.
http://www.cracked.com/forums/index.php?topic=45273.0#msg1108313
It's called PWOT Karaoke, and I did the song 'Kiss' by Prince. It's pretty amusing, you guys should check it out and submit your own.
Have a good week everyone.
I spent most of the day running around the town. I had an appointment with the ENT dude who shoved a microscope up my nose. It was pretty swell. I also had a dentist appointment. Yay getting your teeth cleaned!
I'm going to be in California for the next few days. I'm bringing my laptop with but I'm not sure if I'll get the chance to get online.
Also, there's a thread over at PWOT/Cracked where we sing.
http://www.cracked.com/forums/index.php?topic=45273.0#msg1108313
It's called PWOT Karaoke, and I did the song 'Kiss' by Prince. It's pretty amusing, you guys should check it out and submit your own.
Have a good week everyone.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
In which I berate myself for being stupid. Pay No Attention.
Because I'm treating this as my diary of sorts I'm just going to take this time to beat myself up. Here goes!
Dear me,
Knock it off, you have enough drama in your life already with out thinking about this. Seriously. Enjoy the time you have with this and do not worry about anything beyond it. What ever happens after this moment, this was still a good point in your life. This made you smile when you were sad and happy always. This was meant to be in your life for a reason whatever that reason is, time will tell. This introduced many things into your life that weren't there and you should be thankful. Really, stop being so dumb about it.
Love,
You
Dear You,
I am thankful for this. It still sucks, though.
Love,
Me
I don't have mental problems.
Dear me,
Knock it off, you have enough drama in your life already with out thinking about this. Seriously. Enjoy the time you have with this and do not worry about anything beyond it. What ever happens after this moment, this was still a good point in your life. This made you smile when you were sad and happy always. This was meant to be in your life for a reason whatever that reason is, time will tell. This introduced many things into your life that weren't there and you should be thankful. Really, stop being so dumb about it.
Love,
You
Dear You,
I am thankful for this. It still sucks, though.
Love,
Me
I don't have mental problems.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Hey Guys!
I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever. My life has taken some pretty serious turns and I've been trying to deal with them all.
The relationship I've been in for the past year has been slowly going downhill for sometime. It took a smack in the face from a few close friends for me to realize it and once I did, I had to make a decision on if I wanted to continue down the path I was on. Over the course of the past two months, I've gradually come to the conclusion that I didn't want to be with the person I was with and that I need to be on my own for awhile to do some soul searching.
The breakup has been rough on both John and I and it's been worse because until I have my surgery (which was pushed to March 25) I have to stay out here with him. It's been awkward and frustrating. On top of all that, I'm pretty much incapable of doing anything at this point so John has been cooking, cleaning and driving me places. I feel helpless and useless and I hate it.
Moving on, I've gotten a bit of feed back about the first post of this blog. Some say it's too long and kind of depressing. After this post, I will try to keep the length down but I would really like to get the story out of what has transpired the past six months and then update it every few days. As for the depressing part, it has been amazingly depressing to go through. I've tried to liven it up as best I could but all the jokes fall flat with the seriousness of the situation. I don't want to turn this into a blog about brain tumors because I hope to continue this after surgery and recovery as it has been a good source of therapy for me.
(Part Two)
Later that week I did receive a call from the Neurologist that would be handling my case. The office that he works for is the only place in town that handles brain and spinal injuries. They were booked for about a month out so I made an appointment for the earliest time I could and waited.
It was right before Thanksgiving when I had my initial appointment with my doctor. John and I went in, and waited to be called. Once I was called I went through the normal doctor visit routine; blood pressure, heart rate, height, weight ect. The doctor came in a did some quick tests on dexterity, movement and coordination. Then we went back into his office and for the first time I got to see the MRI scan.
The tumor itself was a bright white spot in the middle of my brain. If you take a human head and cross section it the pituitary gland is located pretty much directly behind the eyes and right above your ears. http://georgiahealthinfo.gov/cms/files/global/images/image_popup/ww5rn89.jpg
My tumor is pressing against the gland, creating all sorts of havoc for the hormones the gland normally creates. I've become increasingly weak, tired, depressed/anxious, my weight keeps going up and down by fifteen or twenty pounds, I haven't gotten my womanly gift since August and I can't eat for days at a time because I am so nauseous.
The doctor told me he wanted me to get some blood work done to see what it was doing with my hormones and get my vision tested to make sure the tumor wasn't pressing on my optic nerves and deteriorating my eyesight. He discussed various methods of treatment and also what could happen if I left it untreated.
When we left the office, I was told the two places I needed to go for these test would be contacting me shortly to make appointments. I pretty numb from all the information I had received in such a short amount of time on the ride home. I had planned on canceling my trip back home to Minnesota on account of all the tests I'd need to have done and the urgency it seemed they needed to be done.
Thanksgiving came and went. I spent it with John's family and greatly missing my own. I had yet to hear from the doctors with the two offices I needed appointments for. I called my own Neurologist's office almost every day to see what was taking so long. They were waiting for the case to be dictated and made into a report that could be sent to those offices.
John and I bought a mobile home in late November. It was exciting that we were moving into our own place and we bought it for fairly cheap. I had also decided "Fuck the doctors dragging their asses, I'm going back to Minnesota." and so the first week of December, I did just that.
Early Christmas with my family was just what I needed to get my mind off of what was going on back in Oregon. I spent time with my family, did some shopping and a ton of reading. I didn't want to leave, but I had to go back to Oregon.
Once I was back, I finally got the appointments made. We began packing up our apartment in small steps and I began painting our kitchen in our new trailer. We didn't move until the last week in December and had left our cleaning up of the apartment until New Year's Eve. Things were going decently enough though they were not moving as fast as I would have liked. I thought the stress and anxiety I was feeling had to do with moving and the body pains I was beginning to notice had to do with the actual move itself.
During January I had started to feel more weak and tired than I had been, my appetite changed and I struggled to go to work. I eventually lost my job due to me getting so sick, I didn't feel comfortable driving a car, afraid I was going to pass out at any time behind the wheel.
I had my vision checked and nothing had changed with that. I also had enough blood drawn to feed a vampire army and I had to pee in a giant jug for 24 hours straight so they could monitor some hormone levels in that. I had to keep it in my fridge. Once the test results came back for those tests, they were sent to my Neurologist and I met with him once more.
He explained that with the nature of my tumor, we could wait and see or I would undergo surgery. With "wait and see" method, I would go through the same hormone tests and get an MRI done every two months. Not comfortable with that option, I said I would do surgery. I was in turn informed of the risks and told that once surgery was over, it still might not fix any of what I was going through. I could die, stroke and not return to my normal self, but on the flip side-this might just fix me. He informed me what the surgery would entail and tat he would be doing it, along with an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor in town which he wanted me to see.
Later that week, my surgery was set for February 18th. I had an appointment with the ENT doctor and things finally seemed like they were moving along. The days were moving along quite fast now. I had to go sign paperwork in the hospital, underwent more blood work, and given a special soap to shower with before my operation.
I got a call the Sunday before my Wednesday operation saying the ENT doctor had fallen ill and they had to reschedule my surgery. I was crushed. All this waiting I thought it was almost over. I had to fight with the airlines to change my mother's plane tickets as she was coming out to take care of me after the surgery.
That pretty much brings us up to now. Surgery is set for March 25th, plane tickets have been changed and once I am ok to fly, I'm blowing this popsicle stand. My dad is also taking his first vacation in years to fly out here next week and hang out with me. We're going to drive to California, I told him I didn't want to come back until I had sun burn. I've been dealing with a ton of passive/aggressiveness with John, but now that we have called it quits with our relationship, a bit of that tension is gone. I'm looking forward to being back in Minnesota with people I love.
I've made some pretty sweet friends through this whole ordeal. They've been there when I've cried and cheered me up when I wasn't feeling my best. You know who you are, and I love you dearly and thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn't have made it with out you.
The relationship I've been in for the past year has been slowly going downhill for sometime. It took a smack in the face from a few close friends for me to realize it and once I did, I had to make a decision on if I wanted to continue down the path I was on. Over the course of the past two months, I've gradually come to the conclusion that I didn't want to be with the person I was with and that I need to be on my own for awhile to do some soul searching.
The breakup has been rough on both John and I and it's been worse because until I have my surgery (which was pushed to March 25) I have to stay out here with him. It's been awkward and frustrating. On top of all that, I'm pretty much incapable of doing anything at this point so John has been cooking, cleaning and driving me places. I feel helpless and useless and I hate it.
Moving on, I've gotten a bit of feed back about the first post of this blog. Some say it's too long and kind of depressing. After this post, I will try to keep the length down but I would really like to get the story out of what has transpired the past six months and then update it every few days. As for the depressing part, it has been amazingly depressing to go through. I've tried to liven it up as best I could but all the jokes fall flat with the seriousness of the situation. I don't want to turn this into a blog about brain tumors because I hope to continue this after surgery and recovery as it has been a good source of therapy for me.
(Part Two)
Later that week I did receive a call from the Neurologist that would be handling my case. The office that he works for is the only place in town that handles brain and spinal injuries. They were booked for about a month out so I made an appointment for the earliest time I could and waited.
It was right before Thanksgiving when I had my initial appointment with my doctor. John and I went in, and waited to be called. Once I was called I went through the normal doctor visit routine; blood pressure, heart rate, height, weight ect. The doctor came in a did some quick tests on dexterity, movement and coordination. Then we went back into his office and for the first time I got to see the MRI scan.
The tumor itself was a bright white spot in the middle of my brain. If you take a human head and cross section it the pituitary gland is located pretty much directly behind the eyes and right above your ears. http://georgiahealthinfo.gov/cms/files/global/images/image_popup/ww5rn89.jpg
My tumor is pressing against the gland, creating all sorts of havoc for the hormones the gland normally creates. I've become increasingly weak, tired, depressed/anxious, my weight keeps going up and down by fifteen or twenty pounds, I haven't gotten my womanly gift since August and I can't eat for days at a time because I am so nauseous.
The doctor told me he wanted me to get some blood work done to see what it was doing with my hormones and get my vision tested to make sure the tumor wasn't pressing on my optic nerves and deteriorating my eyesight. He discussed various methods of treatment and also what could happen if I left it untreated.
When we left the office, I was told the two places I needed to go for these test would be contacting me shortly to make appointments. I pretty numb from all the information I had received in such a short amount of time on the ride home. I had planned on canceling my trip back home to Minnesota on account of all the tests I'd need to have done and the urgency it seemed they needed to be done.
Thanksgiving came and went. I spent it with John's family and greatly missing my own. I had yet to hear from the doctors with the two offices I needed appointments for. I called my own Neurologist's office almost every day to see what was taking so long. They were waiting for the case to be dictated and made into a report that could be sent to those offices.
John and I bought a mobile home in late November. It was exciting that we were moving into our own place and we bought it for fairly cheap. I had also decided "Fuck the doctors dragging their asses, I'm going back to Minnesota." and so the first week of December, I did just that.
Early Christmas with my family was just what I needed to get my mind off of what was going on back in Oregon. I spent time with my family, did some shopping and a ton of reading. I didn't want to leave, but I had to go back to Oregon.
Once I was back, I finally got the appointments made. We began packing up our apartment in small steps and I began painting our kitchen in our new trailer. We didn't move until the last week in December and had left our cleaning up of the apartment until New Year's Eve. Things were going decently enough though they were not moving as fast as I would have liked. I thought the stress and anxiety I was feeling had to do with moving and the body pains I was beginning to notice had to do with the actual move itself.
During January I had started to feel more weak and tired than I had been, my appetite changed and I struggled to go to work. I eventually lost my job due to me getting so sick, I didn't feel comfortable driving a car, afraid I was going to pass out at any time behind the wheel.
I had my vision checked and nothing had changed with that. I also had enough blood drawn to feed a vampire army and I had to pee in a giant jug for 24 hours straight so they could monitor some hormone levels in that. I had to keep it in my fridge. Once the test results came back for those tests, they were sent to my Neurologist and I met with him once more.
He explained that with the nature of my tumor, we could wait and see or I would undergo surgery. With "wait and see" method, I would go through the same hormone tests and get an MRI done every two months. Not comfortable with that option, I said I would do surgery. I was in turn informed of the risks and told that once surgery was over, it still might not fix any of what I was going through. I could die, stroke and not return to my normal self, but on the flip side-this might just fix me. He informed me what the surgery would entail and tat he would be doing it, along with an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor in town which he wanted me to see.
Later that week, my surgery was set for February 18th. I had an appointment with the ENT doctor and things finally seemed like they were moving along. The days were moving along quite fast now. I had to go sign paperwork in the hospital, underwent more blood work, and given a special soap to shower with before my operation.
I got a call the Sunday before my Wednesday operation saying the ENT doctor had fallen ill and they had to reschedule my surgery. I was crushed. All this waiting I thought it was almost over. I had to fight with the airlines to change my mother's plane tickets as she was coming out to take care of me after the surgery.
That pretty much brings us up to now. Surgery is set for March 25th, plane tickets have been changed and once I am ok to fly, I'm blowing this popsicle stand. My dad is also taking his first vacation in years to fly out here next week and hang out with me. We're going to drive to California, I told him I didn't want to come back until I had sun burn. I've been dealing with a ton of passive/aggressiveness with John, but now that we have called it quits with our relationship, a bit of that tension is gone. I'm looking forward to being back in Minnesota with people I love.
I've made some pretty sweet friends through this whole ordeal. They've been there when I've cried and cheered me up when I wasn't feeling my best. You know who you are, and I love you dearly and thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn't have made it with out you.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
It's not a tumor!
Oh wait, yes it is! (Part 1)
A few months have passed since I've found out about this thing growing in my head and with up coming surgery I've decided to write down everything that's happened leading to this point. There is a thread on the PWOT forums that I've been updating, but it started off with me asking for advice because I thought I was pregnant. I've gotten countless replies and Personal Messages with feedback and support that's helped me more than anyone can know. I just want everyone to know how much I appreciate that. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
I've had awful migraines since I was around 14 years old. Last summer they started getting worse and worse until I was having them every day. To anyone who's had any form of migraine, you know how awful they feel and how much pain they cause. All the doctors I saw, every time I was in the emergency room always told me I wasn't drinking enough water, I was drinking too much caffeine, I was eating certain foods that triggered them, I was sleeping too much or not enough. They would give me something for the pain or something that would make me sleep. One doctor gave me ice cold IV fluids for hours while I was crying in pain until when that didn't work, she relented and gave me something for the pain. I ran into her a few months later at a clinic and was promptly treated as some opiate seeking junkie.
The run around treatment was getting me nowhere. I was given countless pills to help "prevent" migraines but nothing for the pain once they started. I was in the emergency room almost every week, crying and puking, just wanting to die. They had me on heart medication, anti seizure medication, anti depressants all to try and prevent these mind crippling headaches. Nothing helped. I hated the looks at the hospital; they thought I was a junkie trying to get a fix. They would pull out John from the room and ask him if I was trying to get pain meds. They would tell me that this wasn't normal, then give me a shot in the ass and make me leave. They stopped giving me Morphine and started giving me shots of Benedryl to knock me out and Phenergin to keep me from puking from the pain. It got to the point where I stopped going in because the treatment wasn't working and they would promptly tell me to leave even if I was still in pain.
A few months passed and I was able to get insurance through something called "Six Month Domestic Partnership" pledge. I set up an appointment with a doctor in the hospital group I was in. I told her my symptoms, how often I get headaches and all the medication I had been on and that nothing had helped. She examined me, listened to me and scheduled me an MRI for later that week. It finally seemed as if someone was listening, not just fiddling with my prescriptions and ushering me out of their office as fast as possible.
I want to stop right here and say something. It may seem as I'm coming off hard on medical professionals. I know how hard they work, starting from before Med school and continuing throughout their entire lives. I'm not trying to belittle that in anyway. A hand full of doctors have helped me through this in ways that go above and beyond. More than a hand full did not and it's something that will stay with me for a long time because of the way I was treated. I'm not saying that it's not possible for people to make mistakes. But I was seeing the same doctors for months and not one thought to look beyond the young woman who dressed kind of weird and always seemed to be wearing slippers (shut up) and take a look at what was causing this pain. The woman who pumped me full of IV fluids and told me when I left to "Drink some vitamin water" treated me at a low income clinic a few months after our run in at the hospital and upon walking in the room stated "We don't carry opiates in the clinic." She didn't even prescribe me anything stronger than an Advil and told me to "Go home and try to sleep." It's experiences like those that left me feeling jaded with the health care system.
Before I had my MRI, I had an unexpected event occur. I was over a month late getting my monthly friend and was sure I was pregnant. I had many symptoms and was extremely happy with this news. I had a home test come back positive. John had never wanted kids, but relented to the idea seeing how fucking exuberant I was. Then I had three pregnancy tests done from different doctors and got the news that I was not, in fact pregnant. Each time that news hit me I didn't want to believe it. I was (at that point) three months late. I had foolishly stared telling family and friends that I was pregnant and then I had to tell them that I wasn't. I stayed home the day of the last test and cried. I made the mistake of watching Juno for the first time and cried even more. I fell asleep on the couch sometime that day with the Kittymonster as my comfort.
That week was my MRI. John and I had started looking at mobile homes and had put in an offer for one we found through work. He dropped me off at the hospital and went to drop off the application for the park we were trying to move into. I filled out some paperwork and waited for them to call me in. A tech came out and explained what they were doing and asked if I had a music preferance. They gave me headphones while I was in the machine. MRI's look much bigger on TV then they really are. When you lay down you are slid in to a round hollow cylender. Your shoulders touch both sides and the top is about five inches away from your face. The MRI scan, depending on what they're looking for takes about 40 minutes. If you move, they pretty much have to start all over again. It's really fucking loud and just plain not pleasant. When I looked straight up, I saw what looked like flecks of dried blood. About half way through, they injected me with a contrast dye. It was nice for a break, but they didn't pull me all the way out. Just enough to get at my arms. I have a problem with people finding my veins. It runs in the family and it's a pain in the ass. Most people drawing blood stab one arm ten times, then move to the other and repeat. I always tell anyone doing blood work to just go for the one in my hand. Most take it as a challenge or something and I sit there and get poked (bladow!) for about ten minutes before they relent. It's exactly what happened this time, only I couldn't move or bend my neck to see what was going on. They finally got it sorted, going though my hand (imagine that!) and slid my back into the tube of death. I closed my eyes and let the music wash over me, thinking of being somewhere nice. The lake, on a boat rocking gently. It worked pretty well but I was still damned happy to get the hell away from the machine. I was told I would be called later in the week after someone had looked over the images. John and I went home and I put it out of my mind.
That Friday I got a call from my doctor's assistant. She's been awesome to me. She called me and said they had found a lesion on my Pituitary Gland. It didn't look like cancer, but they weren't sure and they'd call me on Monday. I sat staring at the phone for a few minutes, then called my mom. I held it together until halfway through explaining what I was told. I just started crying. John wasn't there and I didn't know what to do with myself. I hung up with my mom and paced until it was time to pick him up from work. I actually left about thirty minutes early because I couldn't stand being there alone. When John came out of work, I ran to meet him and told him what little I knew. We got in the car to drive home. I was numb. I kept replaying the conversation over and over trying to think of anything I missed. I couldn't think of anything. I don't remember much about that weekend. I tried sleeping through most of it. I looked up what a Pituitary Adenoma was. I talked to my family about what I knew.
On Sunday I had another killer headache. I went to the hospital but they wouldn't give me anything for the pain, they just gave me Benedryl to make me sleep. That Monday, still with a migraine I went to see my doctor. She was pretty upset that the ER hadn't done anything. She gave me a shot of Morphine and explained to me a bit about what she knew- It was a tumor about 1.5 CM in diameter, not huge sounding, but bigger than most of these kinds of tumors are. She said most of them aren't cancerous and that she was referring me to a Neurosurgeon in the area and that I'd get a call to set up an appointment sometime that week.
A few months have passed since I've found out about this thing growing in my head and with up coming surgery I've decided to write down everything that's happened leading to this point. There is a thread on the PWOT forums that I've been updating, but it started off with me asking for advice because I thought I was pregnant. I've gotten countless replies and Personal Messages with feedback and support that's helped me more than anyone can know. I just want everyone to know how much I appreciate that. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
I've had awful migraines since I was around 14 years old. Last summer they started getting worse and worse until I was having them every day. To anyone who's had any form of migraine, you know how awful they feel and how much pain they cause. All the doctors I saw, every time I was in the emergency room always told me I wasn't drinking enough water, I was drinking too much caffeine, I was eating certain foods that triggered them, I was sleeping too much or not enough. They would give me something for the pain or something that would make me sleep. One doctor gave me ice cold IV fluids for hours while I was crying in pain until when that didn't work, she relented and gave me something for the pain. I ran into her a few months later at a clinic and was promptly treated as some opiate seeking junkie.
The run around treatment was getting me nowhere. I was given countless pills to help "prevent" migraines but nothing for the pain once they started. I was in the emergency room almost every week, crying and puking, just wanting to die. They had me on heart medication, anti seizure medication, anti depressants all to try and prevent these mind crippling headaches. Nothing helped. I hated the looks at the hospital; they thought I was a junkie trying to get a fix. They would pull out John from the room and ask him if I was trying to get pain meds. They would tell me that this wasn't normal, then give me a shot in the ass and make me leave. They stopped giving me Morphine and started giving me shots of Benedryl to knock me out and Phenergin to keep me from puking from the pain. It got to the point where I stopped going in because the treatment wasn't working and they would promptly tell me to leave even if I was still in pain.
A few months passed and I was able to get insurance through something called "Six Month Domestic Partnership" pledge. I set up an appointment with a doctor in the hospital group I was in. I told her my symptoms, how often I get headaches and all the medication I had been on and that nothing had helped. She examined me, listened to me and scheduled me an MRI for later that week. It finally seemed as if someone was listening, not just fiddling with my prescriptions and ushering me out of their office as fast as possible.
I want to stop right here and say something. It may seem as I'm coming off hard on medical professionals. I know how hard they work, starting from before Med school and continuing throughout their entire lives. I'm not trying to belittle that in anyway. A hand full of doctors have helped me through this in ways that go above and beyond. More than a hand full did not and it's something that will stay with me for a long time because of the way I was treated. I'm not saying that it's not possible for people to make mistakes. But I was seeing the same doctors for months and not one thought to look beyond the young woman who dressed kind of weird and always seemed to be wearing slippers (shut up) and take a look at what was causing this pain. The woman who pumped me full of IV fluids and told me when I left to "Drink some vitamin water" treated me at a low income clinic a few months after our run in at the hospital and upon walking in the room stated "We don't carry opiates in the clinic." She didn't even prescribe me anything stronger than an Advil and told me to "Go home and try to sleep." It's experiences like those that left me feeling jaded with the health care system.
Before I had my MRI, I had an unexpected event occur. I was over a month late getting my monthly friend and was sure I was pregnant. I had many symptoms and was extremely happy with this news. I had a home test come back positive. John had never wanted kids, but relented to the idea seeing how fucking exuberant I was. Then I had three pregnancy tests done from different doctors and got the news that I was not, in fact pregnant. Each time that news hit me I didn't want to believe it. I was (at that point) three months late. I had foolishly stared telling family and friends that I was pregnant and then I had to tell them that I wasn't. I stayed home the day of the last test and cried. I made the mistake of watching Juno for the first time and cried even more. I fell asleep on the couch sometime that day with the Kittymonster as my comfort.
That week was my MRI. John and I had started looking at mobile homes and had put in an offer for one we found through work. He dropped me off at the hospital and went to drop off the application for the park we were trying to move into. I filled out some paperwork and waited for them to call me in. A tech came out and explained what they were doing and asked if I had a music preferance. They gave me headphones while I was in the machine. MRI's look much bigger on TV then they really are. When you lay down you are slid in to a round hollow cylender. Your shoulders touch both sides and the top is about five inches away from your face. The MRI scan, depending on what they're looking for takes about 40 minutes. If you move, they pretty much have to start all over again. It's really fucking loud and just plain not pleasant. When I looked straight up, I saw what looked like flecks of dried blood. About half way through, they injected me with a contrast dye. It was nice for a break, but they didn't pull me all the way out. Just enough to get at my arms. I have a problem with people finding my veins. It runs in the family and it's a pain in the ass. Most people drawing blood stab one arm ten times, then move to the other and repeat. I always tell anyone doing blood work to just go for the one in my hand. Most take it as a challenge or something and I sit there and get poked (bladow!) for about ten minutes before they relent. It's exactly what happened this time, only I couldn't move or bend my neck to see what was going on. They finally got it sorted, going though my hand (imagine that!) and slid my back into the tube of death. I closed my eyes and let the music wash over me, thinking of being somewhere nice. The lake, on a boat rocking gently. It worked pretty well but I was still damned happy to get the hell away from the machine. I was told I would be called later in the week after someone had looked over the images. John and I went home and I put it out of my mind.
That Friday I got a call from my doctor's assistant. She's been awesome to me. She called me and said they had found a lesion on my Pituitary Gland. It didn't look like cancer, but they weren't sure and they'd call me on Monday. I sat staring at the phone for a few minutes, then called my mom. I held it together until halfway through explaining what I was told. I just started crying. John wasn't there and I didn't know what to do with myself. I hung up with my mom and paced until it was time to pick him up from work. I actually left about thirty minutes early because I couldn't stand being there alone. When John came out of work, I ran to meet him and told him what little I knew. We got in the car to drive home. I was numb. I kept replaying the conversation over and over trying to think of anything I missed. I couldn't think of anything. I don't remember much about that weekend. I tried sleeping through most of it. I looked up what a Pituitary Adenoma was. I talked to my family about what I knew.
On Sunday I had another killer headache. I went to the hospital but they wouldn't give me anything for the pain, they just gave me Benedryl to make me sleep. That Monday, still with a migraine I went to see my doctor. She was pretty upset that the ER hadn't done anything. She gave me a shot of Morphine and explained to me a bit about what she knew- It was a tumor about 1.5 CM in diameter, not huge sounding, but bigger than most of these kinds of tumors are. She said most of them aren't cancerous and that she was referring me to a Neurosurgeon in the area and that I'd get a call to set up an appointment sometime that week.
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