An Explanation
I am a bad blogger.
Yes, I am aware of the fact that it has been a really, really long time since I last posted. As most of my friends know and/or have figured out, when it starts raining poop, I usually try to hole up somewhere by myself until the skies clear. It's likely not the best option, since I'm lucky enough to have several wonderful friends who would like to help me through the rough times, but it's just the way that I've always coped. So, much as I withdraw from my friends, I have withdrawn from my blog and other (written) journals, for fear that I might one day go back and revisit the times and experiences that cause me pain. I am conscious of the fact that one of the benefits of writing, journaling, blogging, (communicating with friends even), is just that--going back and looking at both good times and bad and learning from either, so I can't explain why I do what I do. All I can do is explain what I do. And I'm doing that now.
Three months or so ago is when a lot of my mess began. Problems with the husband, mainly, and within a month or so problems elsewhere. Thankfully by the time things got really crazy the hub and I had begun to rebuild (yes, things were momentarily that bad, as I tend to act radically according to emotional situations), so I had his support when I really needed it. The first week of August I learned that my request for shared medical leave, the only medical leave plan that would allow me to take the necessary time off for recovery following my hysterectomy, had been denied. The very next day, I received a phone call informing me that one of my closest friends from back home in Kentucky had died--assumed initially to have been a suicide. As the weeks followed, I couldn't take off work to attend his funeral services, and I was losing all that was left of my sanity, trying to cope with the loss of such a wonderful person, preparing my appeal for the medical leave, getting my regular work load done, and then taking care of things at home. Way too much going on.
Things started looking a little less bleak when I learned that the medical examiner had ruled my friend's death a drowning instead of a suicide or drug overdose. At least I found some peace in that, so I quit asking questions about the details and have decided that I'm going to believe what I read in the ME's report instead of assumptions and inside stories. Ignorance is more comfortable still, and I'm able to sit here with my cat on my lap and write this without tears, so I'll just stick to the story I read in the news. However, just as I thought things were going to start turning around, the Hub and I learned that his mother was going to have to have surgery to remove a tumor on her thyroid. Her surgery was scheduled for August 30th, two days before mine, and although the initial biopsies lended that the tumor was benign, the doctors/pathologists wouldn't know anything until the whole thing could be removed and analyzed. So, in effect, her throat would be sliced open and the doctors would have to cut out both her thyroid gland and the tumor that was attached to it, and hope they didn't sever any nerves or anything else in the process. Not a pleasant thought.
It was only a few days later when we found out that my appeal for the medical leave was denied yet again. I was left wondering how the Husband and I were going to be able to afford for me to be off of work without pay for 6-weeks (especially after the 200$ copay and everything else), but thankfully, throughout all of this mess, my supervisor and my two closest friends at work were vigilantly by my side. My supervisor was irate about the injustice of the "Shared Leave Committee"(the group of individuals responsible for granting or denying the leave), as they were known for giving the shared medical leave to women having c-sections, yet they were refusing it to me, stating that my surgery was what they deemed "preventive care." He and I talked to the Director of the Laboratories, who then appealed our (my) case to the Secretary of the department.
Two days before my scheduled surgery we finally had some good news. On one front, my mother-in-law's surgery had come through without complication, and the attending pathologist didn't seem to see anything that worried him. More tests would have to be run, but all of the doctors were optimistic. And, yes, finally, the Secretary approved my medical leave, so I was almost covered. I say "almost" because although I had been approved for the medical leave, it was only the beginning--once I had permission to receive shared hours, fellow State employees then would have to donate hours to me in order for me to be able to have the time off with pay. All in all, the shared leave system is a great program, beyond the fact that the Board in charge of awarding it is completely arbitrary and has no idea what preventive medicine can do. When you take into consideration that the workers who would actually have enough hours to give to me make a lot more money than I do, it actually saves the state money by paying me my hourly rate instead of the 30+ year employees their hourly rate; also, I work for the Department of Health and Environment--everything we do is about preventative care. Why do we test the public water systems? So that people are not ingesting carcinogens. Why do we care if people are ingesting carcinogens? Because we don't want them to get cancer. Why is Dora having this surgery? So that I don't get cancer. Do you see any parallel here?
I can talk more about the actual surgery and hospital experience later, and you know I will, but I'll skip to a day about 5 days following my surgery. Phone call #1: my mother-in-law. The test results were back, and the tumor was benign. Besides obvious recovery from such a stressful surgery, she was going to be okay. Phone call #2: my dear friend "Saint Francis" from work. It had been confirmed that people had donated me so many hours that I was going to be able to be off of work for the entire 6-weeks post-operative recovery period. With tears in my eyes (from joy and gratitude), I told my Hub and my mother, who was out here from Kentucky helping us, and a wave of shock and relief rushed over us all.
The moral to this story: I'm a stubborn, difficult, emotional human being. In a matter of three months, my life has changed dramatically (not only because I was spayed, but mainly because of how much I've learned). I look back on all of my other blog entries, and most of them are superficial, day-to-day ramblings; I promise to try to dig deeper, regardless of what well of tears I may strike along the way. It was while I was in the hospital that the levies broke in New Orleans. If that doesn't put you in check, I'm not sure you're worth checking. I try to be light-hearted and fun, and that's usually all I allow people to see of me. I'm not saying that's going to stop, but I'm going to do my best to be real with the people who actually read this to keep in touch with me. If you want to know why I haven't called in a while, you can probably find it here (from now on). I love you guys, and I thank you for emailing me and writing me and calling me, checking up on my progress and seeing how I'm doing. All is on the upswing now (I hope), though my gut hurts and I can't take a crap (no freaking abdominal muscles!). How's that for real? (=
Yes, I am aware of the fact that it has been a really, really long time since I last posted. As most of my friends know and/or have figured out, when it starts raining poop, I usually try to hole up somewhere by myself until the skies clear. It's likely not the best option, since I'm lucky enough to have several wonderful friends who would like to help me through the rough times, but it's just the way that I've always coped. So, much as I withdraw from my friends, I have withdrawn from my blog and other (written) journals, for fear that I might one day go back and revisit the times and experiences that cause me pain. I am conscious of the fact that one of the benefits of writing, journaling, blogging, (communicating with friends even), is just that--going back and looking at both good times and bad and learning from either, so I can't explain why I do what I do. All I can do is explain what I do. And I'm doing that now.
Three months or so ago is when a lot of my mess began. Problems with the husband, mainly, and within a month or so problems elsewhere. Thankfully by the time things got really crazy the hub and I had begun to rebuild (yes, things were momentarily that bad, as I tend to act radically according to emotional situations), so I had his support when I really needed it. The first week of August I learned that my request for shared medical leave, the only medical leave plan that would allow me to take the necessary time off for recovery following my hysterectomy, had been denied. The very next day, I received a phone call informing me that one of my closest friends from back home in Kentucky had died--assumed initially to have been a suicide. As the weeks followed, I couldn't take off work to attend his funeral services, and I was losing all that was left of my sanity, trying to cope with the loss of such a wonderful person, preparing my appeal for the medical leave, getting my regular work load done, and then taking care of things at home. Way too much going on.
Things started looking a little less bleak when I learned that the medical examiner had ruled my friend's death a drowning instead of a suicide or drug overdose. At least I found some peace in that, so I quit asking questions about the details and have decided that I'm going to believe what I read in the ME's report instead of assumptions and inside stories. Ignorance is more comfortable still, and I'm able to sit here with my cat on my lap and write this without tears, so I'll just stick to the story I read in the news. However, just as I thought things were going to start turning around, the Hub and I learned that his mother was going to have to have surgery to remove a tumor on her thyroid. Her surgery was scheduled for August 30th, two days before mine, and although the initial biopsies lended that the tumor was benign, the doctors/pathologists wouldn't know anything until the whole thing could be removed and analyzed. So, in effect, her throat would be sliced open and the doctors would have to cut out both her thyroid gland and the tumor that was attached to it, and hope they didn't sever any nerves or anything else in the process. Not a pleasant thought.
It was only a few days later when we found out that my appeal for the medical leave was denied yet again. I was left wondering how the Husband and I were going to be able to afford for me to be off of work without pay for 6-weeks (especially after the 200$ copay and everything else), but thankfully, throughout all of this mess, my supervisor and my two closest friends at work were vigilantly by my side. My supervisor was irate about the injustice of the "Shared Leave Committee"(the group of individuals responsible for granting or denying the leave), as they were known for giving the shared medical leave to women having c-sections, yet they were refusing it to me, stating that my surgery was what they deemed "preventive care." He and I talked to the Director of the Laboratories, who then appealed our (my) case to the Secretary of the department.
Two days before my scheduled surgery we finally had some good news. On one front, my mother-in-law's surgery had come through without complication, and the attending pathologist didn't seem to see anything that worried him. More tests would have to be run, but all of the doctors were optimistic. And, yes, finally, the Secretary approved my medical leave, so I was almost covered. I say "almost" because although I had been approved for the medical leave, it was only the beginning--once I had permission to receive shared hours, fellow State employees then would have to donate hours to me in order for me to be able to have the time off with pay. All in all, the shared leave system is a great program, beyond the fact that the Board in charge of awarding it is completely arbitrary and has no idea what preventive medicine can do. When you take into consideration that the workers who would actually have enough hours to give to me make a lot more money than I do, it actually saves the state money by paying me my hourly rate instead of the 30+ year employees their hourly rate; also, I work for the Department of Health and Environment--everything we do is about preventative care. Why do we test the public water systems? So that people are not ingesting carcinogens. Why do we care if people are ingesting carcinogens? Because we don't want them to get cancer. Why is Dora having this surgery? So that I don't get cancer. Do you see any parallel here?
I can talk more about the actual surgery and hospital experience later, and you know I will, but I'll skip to a day about 5 days following my surgery. Phone call #1: my mother-in-law. The test results were back, and the tumor was benign. Besides obvious recovery from such a stressful surgery, she was going to be okay. Phone call #2: my dear friend "Saint Francis" from work. It had been confirmed that people had donated me so many hours that I was going to be able to be off of work for the entire 6-weeks post-operative recovery period. With tears in my eyes (from joy and gratitude), I told my Hub and my mother, who was out here from Kentucky helping us, and a wave of shock and relief rushed over us all.
The moral to this story: I'm a stubborn, difficult, emotional human being. In a matter of three months, my life has changed dramatically (not only because I was spayed, but mainly because of how much I've learned). I look back on all of my other blog entries, and most of them are superficial, day-to-day ramblings; I promise to try to dig deeper, regardless of what well of tears I may strike along the way. It was while I was in the hospital that the levies broke in New Orleans. If that doesn't put you in check, I'm not sure you're worth checking. I try to be light-hearted and fun, and that's usually all I allow people to see of me. I'm not saying that's going to stop, but I'm going to do my best to be real with the people who actually read this to keep in touch with me. If you want to know why I haven't called in a while, you can probably find it here (from now on). I love you guys, and I thank you for emailing me and writing me and calling me, checking up on my progress and seeing how I'm doing. All is on the upswing now (I hope), though my gut hurts and I can't take a crap (no freaking abdominal muscles!). How's that for real? (=
posted by Dora Maar at 12:49 PM
2 Comments:
*big ole hugs for you*
Glad everything's ok. Do I need to send you laxatives? Just make it fall out?
:-)
Love you.
Can't do the laxatives--they make my intestines curl into knots. So far chinese food and coffee have worked the best....ew, I know....
hugs back at you, honey!
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