This is her “#suckit Mom” face
Spilling My Guts
July 15, 2009 by 87 Comments
crossposted at BlogHer.com
It’s after midnight here in Michigan, where I am visiting with friends and family. Surrounded daily by love and attention and support.
So why am I awake and crying?
Because for many months I’ve been hiding my health issues. Ok, maybe hiding isn’t the best word. But since about …oh, last year Christmas I’ve failed to mention to you – the people whom I tell EVERYTHING- that I’ve been sick.
So tonight I’m awake and crying because yet ANOTHER symptom has appeared in this long and exhausting road of “I’m getting old and my body sucks.”
Tonight my mouth is covered in sores (sexy, I know…stay with me it gets sexier) after months of vomiting and several weeks of rectal bleeding.
Yes, I said rectal bleeding. And get used to it, because I’m going into more detail.
You see, back when I was *just* feeling sick and puking ocassionally, I didn’t bother to see my doctor. After all, I’m a puker. Two glasses of wine? Puke. Nasty smell coming from the trash? Puke. Weather turns and it’s cold and I don’t have a jacket? Puke (I’m not kidding, the cold makes me puke).
Then this started happening more and more often. Sometimes just a gag. Sometimes just in the morning like I was pregnant or something (no, I’m not) and sometimes just over-all nausea with zero puke…I thought, huh, that’s weird. Oh well.
And I went on with my normal life.
I saw many of you as I traveled, and threw up in your conference hall bathroom. I went out with many of you to dinner, and threw up in the restaurant’s toilet. I even walked down some streets with some of you after a night of fun and drinks, and threw up in a trash can while you weren’t looking.
For some reason, I thought this was fine. For some reason, I did not call my doctor. For some reason, life just went on.
Until…
I didn’t see my doctor until one day I went to the bathroom and instead of pooping a blood clot came out. Then another. And then a few more.
Then the next day it happened again. And the next day…again.
Nothing can get you calling your doctor faster than blood coming from places it shouldn’t.
It was 2 weeks before I could get an appointment, and the nice nurse said “well, you know, if it gets worse feel free to go to the ER…”
Uh, thanks.
Of course that doctor had to refer me to another doctor who had to refer me to one more. They ran the usual test. Blood work was fine. Urine was fine. And that’s when you start to think YOU are the crazy one and maybe this all just is normal and life should just go on and you should quit your bitching.
Then finally we had a test that came back abnormal.
It was a fun one. The doctor stuck his hand up my ass- the rectal exam.
That test confirmed I was bleeding. It wasn’t much to go on, but hey…at least we were getting somewhere.
From there I saw the Gastro doc, who looked at me and my chart and my tests and my symptoms for all of 3 minutes before ordering two rather invasive procedures. I didn’t argue. When you are bleeding out your ass and feeling sick, you just don’t argue.
Mind you, the soonest I get to have any of these tests done is August. Because nothing says “health care in the US sucks” like waiting 6-8 weeks for tests you could probably use yesterday.
As the weeks drag on and the tests are done and we wait for results…I still feel like crap. Of course, on again, off again feel like crap. Some days I’m puking, some I’m just quesy. Some days I’m bleeding a little, some days I’m not bleeding at all. Some days I feel fantastic and consider canceling all the tests ordered.
Then there are days like today. I just threw up in my cousin’s bathroom, put canker sore medicine in 6 different spots in my mouth, and wiped my ass to find pink and red dots.
When I finished, throat raw, mouth numb, and ass hurting…I sat down on this bed and began to cry and write.
I cry because I’m tired, and I cry because I don’t know what I’m dealing with. I cry because I’m afraid it’s something simple, like an infection or some “stress” induced illness. I cry because I’m afraid it’s something not so simple, like Celiacs or Crohn’s or Cancer. But mostly…I cry because I’m really freaking tired of feeling like crap, and I’d like that to go away now…please.
Which leads me to why I am finally blogging about this…and why I hesitated to tell you.
First of all…do many people really want to say “Hey, so…guess what…I’m sick and bleeding out my ass!!!” to the entire world? Yeah, not so much. Also, I didn’t know what to tell you. For all I know it’s all in my head and I have a bad ‘roid from pregnancy flared up and pissed off. Sarah knows what I mean, she recently blogged about having a colonoscopy and had the same hesitations I did,
“I’ve been having some strange digestive issues of late (last couple of years) and finally there’s started to be a small (very small) amount of blood so the docs want to check it out (obviously). It’s funny because no one ever talks about this subject, but once you open the door, everyone has some stories. How can one not laugh at it all though.”
But as time marches on, and more and more tests are ordered, I realize it’s been this community that tends to remind me I am not alone and that they too may have some information or knowledge to share.
Over at Post Cards from Yo Momma I found this gem:
“Dad took me to lunch afterwards. All in all, the procedure itself was a breeze. I just wish that bitch with the needle had told me how much it would burn. They did warn me I might feel light headed after the IV meds kicked in, but that turned out to be a sensation I found surprisingly enjoyable. I bet my hiney was the cutest one all day.”
I bet my hiney is cute too!
I also bet it won’t be the one shaking it’s ass ontop of a table at BlogHer.
Yes, this means at BlogHer ’09 in Chicago I won’t need to hide. I won’t try to quietly puke in the bathroom if I need too, and I won’t need to explain to you why I may or may not be having that 2nd glass of wine. If I get up at lunch or dinner or breakfast and excuse myself I can actually say “I don’t feel well” not “I have a phone call, let me take it outside.” It will be nice to NOT hide.
Which means from here on out you get to join me in my journey. It might be too much to hear…I mean, really- who WANTS to know that much about my ass and my bowels? Or it may be just what was needed, because you too have had similar symptoms or you too know someone also undergoing some tests.
On August 4th I’ll be sedated and doctors will drop a camera down my throat and into my stomach to look around.
On August 11th I’ll be sedated and a colonoscopy will be performed.
And I’m going to tell you ALLLLL about it. From the prep to the diagnosis and all the whining and complaining I will do in between (because you know I will).
In a few weeks I will blog my endoscopy. Then I will blog the prep for my colonoscopy (which, dude…clear liquids, enemas, drinking gallons of some crappy mixture..all accounts indicate it’s hell) and then the procedure itself.
By the end I hope to have some answers, and if not…at least I’ll have you.
Other bloggers talking stomachs, butts, and gastro excitement:
Contributing Editor Erin Kotecki Vest also blogs at Queen of Spain blog
An Open Letter to iCarly
July 13, 2009 by 124 Comments
Hi Carly (aka Miranda Cosgrove),
It appears you are my son’s very first crush. He’s 6.
As a mother, I, of course, have some concerns. But overall, I’m ok with you being the object of his desire.
He seems to think you are prettiest and funniest girl on the planet and even drooled (no really, with real drool) when he saw your DVD on the shelf at the store.
You are the reason his father taught him the phrase “humminahumminahummina,” and for that, I apologize.
You’re a web chick (in theory), you don’t wear revealing clothes, you seem, by all tabloid accounts, to stay out of trouble.
On camera you stick blueberries up your nose and make chicken soup in a toilet. What 6-year old boy wouldn’t love you?
However, and this is a big however…if you go all Britney on me…I will be forced to ban you, your show, and your network. Harsh, I know…but in this day and age I just can’t risk my little guy’s heart and mind to the wiley ways of a wayward girl. He’ll get enough of that in his real life when the time comes, this I am sure. Hell, he gets enough of that from his own mother. So he really doesn’t need it from the fictional female he adores.
In short, don’t disappoint me. Please.
No pressure, really.
Xoxoxox,
Erin
In Her Own Words…
July 6, 2009 by 4 Comments
That’s your own advice Governor. You know, on behalf of all the women you care so much about.
Divorce
June 26, 2009 by 64 Comments
I think my husband and I should divorce.
He’s against the idea.*
As a heterosexual couple we have been given the right to marry and divorce at will. As a heterosexual couple we have been given rights and privileges that have come along with our marriages that are not given to my LGBT friends.
I find this unacceptable. And feel dirty being married.
Why should I be allowed to do something an entire population can not do? Why should we have all these rights- like being able to take care of the other’s estate and make medical decisions?
But even more than that, why do I get to call my union “marriage” and my gay friends do not? I did not get married in a church, so clearly it’s not a religious term. It’s a legal term. My marriage was not sanctified by God or riddled with a promise that I would procreate or be a “wife” to my “husband.”
As a legal contract, marriage should be available to all, not just to me.
What makes me so special? Why should I get to do something others can not? And how do I explain that to my children? That I am somehow better than others? That I am straight, so I should be given more privilege than others?
No. I can’t. It’s unacceptable. And until everyone can marry, I can honestly say I would rather not be married. It feels like I’m taking advantage while others suffer.
And before you give me all that crap about how civil unions can be separate but equal, save your breath. They are not.
So instead of asking how you can support your LGBT friends and family, ask yourself why you are so special. Why you are so much better than they and why you think you deserve something they don’t?
*my husband supports the gay marriage effort, and his reasons for not wanting a divorce are because I’m a free spirit and he’s afraid I won’t come back 😉
She Will Marry A Hootin’ And Hollerin’ Construction Worker
June 20, 2009 by 17 Comments
I said look at me. And whistle. Yes, I said whistle. I SAID TO LOOK AT ME AND WHISTLE because LOOK how pretty I am.
That’s exactly what my daughter was saying as this photo was taken.
Hand on her hip and angry, she wanted a boy’s attention and she wanted it with a cat call.
I was horrified.
Of course we then had a discussion about wanting attention because we’re smart, not pretty, and that whistling was actually quite rude.
My daughter’s reaction? To sigh heavily like a 16-year old, throw her Hello Kitty purse over her shoulder, and then roll her eyes at me.
Uh huh.
My son, on the other hand, refused to participate and then repeated to her what I had said when she, again, asked him to give her a cat call.
Who’s child is this? Because she can’t possibly be mine.
Ok, Ok, maybe in the ‘wanting attention’ department she might be mine.
Ok, Ok, maybe she thinks gaining the attention of boys is..um…good. And maybe she learned that from….
ahhhh. Fuck.
I’m the Squishy one
June 13, 2009 by 10 Comments
My daughter drew a picture of me today.
I’m the fat one.
I asked her why I was so much bigger than “Daddy” next to me…she said “Mommy you are bigger than Daddy…and squishier.”
Sigh.
It’s true. I haven’t been very careful about what I eat lately. I also haven’t been very active. Like most women, I get on kicks and the weight goes up and down. It used to not matter. I used to be able to handle these “phases” without much as a pant size change.
Not anymore.
I will admit it’s frustrating. But I refuse to obsess over it.
Right now I’m up. And you know what…I’m ok with it.
My daughter can find me squishy and 10 minutes later tell me how beautiful I am.
I am going to change some bad habits I’ve gotten into lately, but not because of the jean size…but for my health. I’m not going to watch the scale, but I will watch how long I sit and do nothing.
If that comes with another pant size change, then so be it.
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