MPT (Medical People Time)

So after more than two weeks for two blood tests (one of which was pointless as I'd just had it done) I finally called the gynecologist's office myself. His nurse just called me back and said everything is "normal." Bloodwork, ultrasound, etc. So I said, "Well, what's my next step? Because obviously everything is not normal in there." And she said she'd let the doctor know, but I should rest easy tonight knowing I don't have a tumor. Well, then, maybe they should have let me know that before two weeks plus had passed. And, also? DUH! Something is wrong they just don't know what it is yet...
ARGH!!!

It ain't Grey's Freakin' Anatomy, people.

So if you know me, you know I've been bitchin' about an annoying health "thing" for a while now. This post is about that, and poo--lots of poo, and lady parts. You've been warned...

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For about five months or so I've been suffering from chronic diarrhea which on some days is annoying and on others interferes with day-to-day life. Since I was very young, I have suffered from Irritable Bowel Syndrome with chronic constipation, so the turn five months ago was concerning, but I didn't go to the doctor. But the other month Nate said to me, "Between the diarrhea and the increased joint pain, this is the sickest I've ever seen you. You should see a doctor." Nate never suggests going to the doctor, so I made the appointment.

They horrified my fecal-phobic ass by making me do myriad versions of "sample" collection. I'm still traumatized. I'm not joking.

All cultures and tests, including the bloodwork and urine were "totally normal." "Probably just your IBS. Here's some IBS meds." They didn't seem to be worried that thirty-some years of constipation had suddenly done a 180° . Surprisingly [/sarcasm], the meds have not been helping.

This whole thing got me pondering another problem I've been having, but assumed was just due to my advancing--ahem!--maternal age. Shorter, heavier periods; debilitating cramps pre-, peri- and post-menstrually; lower back pain during the same time period which leaves me wondering why I was such a cry-baby during labor. Putting that together with the immediate problem and the history of "lady troubles" in my family, I decided a call to my friendly gynecologist's office was, perhaps, in order.

Today I called, told the receptionist my symptoms and was promptly put on hold. I thought she was trying to find an appointment for me. She came back on the line and told me the doc-on-call or the triage nurse would call me back for the fastest available appointment. Huh? Well, that didn't sound very good.

A nurse called me back and asked me repeatedly about fibroids and my family history of endometriosis and so on...told me they'd see me on the 6th and that they might want to do an ultrasound for the fibroids and "maybe check some other things." She didn't seem interested in the poly-cystic ovary syndrome at all, so I'm guessing that is probably not the problem. Gah. Fine.

I'd already talked to Nate and Dawn and Vicki about the possibility of endo and my fear of having a hysterectomy and perhaps even oophorectomy.

All I'd ever wanted was to be a stay-at-home mother of two children. Nate wanted a stay-at-home mother to seven children. We compromised on five. I then set my heart on five. We had names selected and everything. Due to various health problems, all of my docs and Nate decided for my stubborn butt that I was done with my baby-making. I often miss the ones we never had. The miscarriage and all of the babies my friends and family are recently cranking out don't help quell my baby-lust. A final judgment on the closing of the baby factory will definitely break me for a while.

I loved being pregnant, nursing, raising my children. I hate being told I cannot do something. The possibilities are not pretty. I was just coming to terms with being in perimenopause but it gave me years to get used to the idea. So while it would be nice to be rid of the suck going on in my belly once and for all, it would be quite difficult if the result is removal of some of my lady bits.

One possible plus: I told Nate if I am seriously done being pregnant forever and part of my lady-ness is taken away, then he will be paying for the tummy tuck of my dreams. Buh-bye c-section flap. (Am I right, ladies?) I think I convinced him when I said if any of his "man parts" had to be removed, I would totally let him get the red, fast convertible muscle car he would surely long for. He seemed to consider this a reasonable argument.

Stay tuned. My appointment is October 6th.

"The New Adventures of Old Kayly" or "The TMI Episode of Blahgblahgblahg"

Have you see the show "The New Adventures of Old Christine" yet? It is veddyveddy funny. But, disturbingly, the character seems to be based on a divorced version of me. For example--and this is just one in a series of jillions--tonight I spent all night perimenopausally driving everyone nuts with "I'm soooo hot!! I'm melting! I can barely breathe, I'm so hot!! I'm soaking wet with sweat! Turn the heat down!" Then, "I'm freeeezing! It's so cold!!! I'm shivering! Turn the heat up!" And then we watched the DVRed show at 10 p.m. and DAMN! if the whole show isn't about her perimenopause! Then when I told Nate I think the show's writers are spying on me, he said, "It's always all about you, isn't it?" To which I replied, "Yes, and that's what last week's show was about remember?" (BTW, I even own the bra she wore to comic effect in this week's episode.) This isn't meant to flatter myself. Old Christine is a mess. But the show is pretty effing funny. Nate and I laughed our ayusses off this week and last. It seems to get funnier every week. Check it out. (Mondays ABC 9:30-10)

Perimenopause reminds me: today in Targét, I saw a lady, a normal everyday lady, with a goatee. No 'stache, just the goatee. And, at first, I was, like, "Whoa! EW!" But, then, I actually thought it was pretty cool. She could easily remove it, but she embraces her difference, or quirk, or what some might call flaw. Now, don't get me wrong, I pluck and--will continue to do so--OBSESSIVELY!! (I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome--among my other "frailties"--so hirsuitism goes with the course. For me this has always meant a lot of chin hairs and--pardon the imagery--overgrown shrubbery. These problems seem to be paradoxically [or not, I don't know; maybe I should ask my gyno next Monday] getting better as I get "more and more" perimenopausal.) But I have tremendous respect for this woman, who seemed unconcerned with society's idea of acceptable, beauty-wise. So "YAY! Goatee Lady!! I salute you"

Lastly, I will be watching my brother's taxidermy shop for him during some time in which he will be away. I'll let y'all do with this tidbit as you wish. :-)