I spent Friday night in the hospital!

Know how to make God laugh? Plan something. ~ Anonymous



As previously mentioned, I had a hysteroscopic myomectomy on Tuesday, August 25, 2009. Since then I have had constant pain in my right calf. I kinda figured it was a blood clot and this was confirmed by googling my symptoms. That's correct as of Tuesday of this week I knew I had a DVT- Deep Vein Thrombosis. Now here is where my normal pragmatic nature flew the coop. I didn't do anything about it until Thursday, September 3, 2009. That's right I limped around for over a week bitching about the pain and taking Motrin in hopes it would just sort of dissolve and go away on its own.

Thursday morning the pain was so intense I couldn't stand long enough to brush my teeth. I called the doc who did the surgery and left a message for her nurse. The nurse called me back within the hour and told me it sounded like a thrombosis and I had an appt. in radiology for 9:30 AM Friday at Emory to check it out.

Friday morning mom drives me into Atlanta for the ultrasound. It's a 46 mile drive door-to-door. My appt was for 9:30 AM and we were signing in at 9:10 AM, we left home at 8:30 AM! FYI-Until you have had a 79 year old woman with cataracts, who is nervous about her baby girl being sick, drive 80 mph to the hospital you don't know fear.

They had to do both legs. I guess so that they could see what normal looked like as opposed to the leg with the clot. Anyway the radiologist finished the ultrasound and asked if my doc was easy to reach? I said yes. Things moved somewhat quickly from there. Much to my chagrin, I was told I was being admitted to the hospital. Not sure why, but I just figured they would give me some pills and send me home. I was genuinely shocked to hear they needed to keep me.

They walked me upstairs to admissions, I filled out the necessary paper work. Then I was taken to the CIU which is a sort of transistional waiting area for people while they get your room ready. I was there for a few hours. They took my vitals, 7 vials of blood, and hooked up a saline IV. By 1:30 PM I was in my own room and trying to push my mom out the door. I can't speak for all cities; but you do not want to be stuck in Friday afternoon traffic in Atlanta. Add to that it was a holiday weekend and you are just pretty much screwed. I wanted mom to leave before the holiday rush hour started. It has taken us as long as 2.5 hours to get home, if we let rush hour catch us. Plus, mom sometimes gets disoriented in the city.

Why they discharged me less than 24 hours later I have no idea. They still don't know for sure why I got the blood clot. They think it might be because after the 19 day period I had in July they put me on the pill. Surgery + birth control pill can = blood clot. More importantly in my mind, I still cannot walk, stand, or sit upright with my feet on the floor for more than 5 minutes without severe pain in my right calf.

So now I have to take 5 mg of Warfarin once a day for the next 3-6 months; and Lovenox twice a day. Both are blood thinners. I dislike the Lovenox intensely because it is not a pill, but an injection which comes in a pre-loaded syringe; which I have to give myelf in the stomach twice a day. I hate needles.

About my original plans for the day: After the ultrasound I had planned on going to pick up some pantry and freezer staples at Trader Joes's, then lunch at the Majestic Diner. I was craving their chicken souvlaki gyro, which is the best I've had outside of NYC. Then we were just gonna go home, maybe swim, and relax before my cousin Malcolm (age 8)came to stay for the weekend.

Glad My Fertility Issues Amuse You . . . NOT!

There are NO funny jokes about infertility! Don't even try it.

In case you couldn't tell, this is gonna be a rant.

Don't tell women who want children and who have thus far been unable to have them, that we are better off without children, or to get a puppy, or that we should adopt one of the millions of orphans here and abroad. Do I look like Angelina Jolie? No, I do not! Even she gave into the hormonal urge many of us women have and gave birth to her own children. Plus, adoption is crazy expensive. Many health plans will cover all or part of infertility treatments. Nobody gives you $50,000+ to adopt.

IMHO The absolute worst thing to do or say is that, "Kids are nothing but trouble, you are better off without them." Really, I'm sorry for your children that you feel that way.

Or, and I had this happen just this week, do not give us a doll baby! Yes, that's right, one of my mothers friends at the senior center sent a one inch tall plastic baby to me via my mother with the message that "If I wanted a baby so bad here's one." WTF?!? On what planet is that appropriate behavior?


Now I know exactly how Charlotte felt on Sex and the City when she was having infertiltiy issues, and her idiot, husband Trey gave her a giant cut-out of a baby. Like that was gonna placate her. NOT!


I mean not for nothing but just because she couldn't have children and was forced to have a hysterectomy, doesn't mean I am willing to accept the same verdict without a fight. She is 80, 40 years ago doctors gave women hysterectomies like lollipops. Thankfully, today things are different.

Okay, I think I am done ranting now.

Success! I Survived Another Hysteroscopic Myomectomy

My most recent surgery was a success, but I am in PAIN! Apparently they didn't adjust the stirrups for my long legs. So my upper, inner thighs are very sore. Last night I put some of my moms menthol scented arthiritis creme on my thighs, and I put my hot water bottle on my belly. Isn't that a lovely mental image.

My abdomen feels like I was run over by a Jeep or maybe a small pick-up truck? Doesn't matter which way I turn I can't get comfortable sitting, standing, or lying down. I was puzzled by this as the hysteroscopic myomectomy I had in May was virtually painless. The only reason I stayed in bed for 3 days then was so I could read romance novels and have mom bring me food and pamper me.

Turns out with each procedure they do, the more fragile the uterus can become. Plus there are adhesions from my previous surgeries, I should have known that.

Apparently in addition to the uterine fibroid, I had a ruptured cervical cyst, a portion of which had become lodged inside me. I swear I am a walking medical disaster area. Fortunately, I have no internal stitches, they were able to remove that stuff and cauterize the area.

Please Pray for TruckerTexman!

I've been dancing around posting this for weeks. My man is not doing well and as of Wednesday this week he is suicidal, I am at wits end trying to help him. My previous Angry Blog is now kinda null and void. I didn't realize he was breaking up with me cause he was depressed and suicidal.

I better start at the beginning, fall 2008 when he was working for J.B. Hunt he got a ticket for bobtailing through Mc Donough, GA. He was going to see his baby boy from a previous marriage. Anywho he went to court twice to fight the ticket and both times the cop didn't show up. Do y'all have any idea how hard it is to get dispatch to route you home for a court date when you are OTR? I know you do, yet he did it; and he took all the loads that no one else wanted to do it. In NJ and GA if you fight a traffic/moving violation and the cop doesn't show up they are supposed to dismiss it. They didn't do that. Apparently there was a warrant out for his arrest but he didn't know it. He has always used his parents address as his mailing address since the divorce. He never received anything in the mail from the court after his last court date in December 2008.

Fast forward to June 2009, my darling Tex was one of those that got caught in the Swift debacle a couple months ago and lost his CDL. Tex has been driving for almost 5 years so neither of us thought re-taking the test would be a big deal. He passed the written test with flying colors! When he went to take the driving portion they ran his license and found a warrant for his arrest from the bobtail ticket 9 months earlier. He was shocked! Worse because he had just spent the last week getting the rig fixed at de Boer up in Wisconsin, he was kinda broke. They sent my man to jail for 3 days and the little money he had went for the fees and such. I think that going to jail just broke his spirit.

My cousin has a rental property that had been trashed back in March, by the previous tenants. So I gave them each others numbers and he has been working on making that house liveable again since June. He is almost done. He used the money he has earned from fixing up her rental property to help out his folks financially, as he was staying with them, child support, and of course some minor repairs on his motorcycle. He also re-took the driving portion of the CDL test . . . and he failed, twice. I don't understand how he could fail it twice when he has been driving for almost 5 years and he did so well on the written test, and neither does he.

Then his mom who is on dialysis 3 days a week and needs both a kidney and a pancreas transplant went crazy and kicked him out. So he moved into his friend Danny's grandparents house along with his friend Danny. Danny was let go from de Boer after failing the test just once. It's a big house, her 8 cats have 2 rooms of their own. Well Tuesday he was down at my cousins house working on finishing it up and Danny calls and says his grandparents are kicking Tex out. He's only 29, and he's desperate and he can't seem to catch a break lately. Now it seems he has just given up on everything. He told me Thursday afternoon that he was going to kill himself. He has set up a small trust fund for his son, and is looking into the best ways to die so that he can be an organ donor. He wants as much as possible to be used to help someone else. Here I go crying again. I just can't seem to stop.

My dad doesn't believe in shacking up, but this is different. I told Tex last night to come here and stay, even if he does it in his tent. I would never forgive myself if he kills himself and I hadn't done something, anything to help him. I'm still a little weak from my surgery but I am gonna try to get down to Fayetteville where he is working on that house for my cousin today or tomorrow.

Me, mom, and my cousin have been praying for him round the clock. I'd be mighty appreciative if you all would pray for him too. He really is a good man, but he has fallen on hard times and just lost his way it seems.

I'm Angry

I'm angry at you for leaving,
I'm angry at God for sending you into my life,
and I'm angry at myself for believing that I deserved to love again.


I'm just too old for this crap.
Relationships are really not worth the effort I always put into them.
I am locking my heart up again, this time for good.



Some say, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
This is bullshit. This is always said by people in love, people who have never had their heart ripped out by a spikey glove then stomped upon by King Kong in cleats.

I' know my heart will heal . . . in time; but I am not doing this again.
I just don't have the strength.

I LOATHE Pre-Op Testing!

Emory University Midtown Hospital MUST streamline their pre-op testing! It took 4 hours to take my vitals (twice), get 4 vials of blood, and update my medical history (twice).

My appointment was for 9:10 AM we got there 10 minutes late, which considering what time mom got up and the traffic we encountered was a miracle. I thought I was gonna have to reschedule; but fortunately they were already running late.

Apparently my doctor is very particular. So before going to Pre-Admission Testing on the first floor, I have to go up to her office on the 18th floor. The nurse weighs me, takes my blood pressure, temperature, blood oxygen, and pulse. She then goes over the list of my current medications. Then she takes me down to an exam room at the end of the hall. Where I sit and wait and wait. Finally, a resident comes in, introduces herself reviews my list of current medications, takes a family illness history, and explains the procedure to me. She seems curious and concerned about my thyroid issues. I'll blog about my thyroid nightmare another time. Then I sign a few forms and she gives me paperwork to take downstairs. It is now 10:03 AM

Downstairs they ask the usual questions, like if necessary can we give you a blood transfusion, do you have a living will, would you like a pastor to visit you before surgery. etc., etc. FWIW: I don't have a living will, I am afraid of, but not opposed to blood transfusions. If necessary I expect them to move heaven and earth to save my life. I sign more papers and they send me down to the room at the end of the hall. A room which I have come to hate. It is now 10:25 AM

There is a woman sitting behind the sliding glass window stapling papers. It takes her a full 4 minutes to acknowledge that I am there. I hate that. When a patient comes to the window, she should immediately say, "I'll be with you in a moment." Anywho she needs to make a copy of my insurance card and drivers license, which they just did down the hall, and also upstairs. Then mom and I sit and wait; along with the rest of the wretched, huddling masses, yearning to be free.

At 12:55 PM they finally call my name. I follow a nurse with a Susan Powter haircut into exam room 6. I can tell she is having a bad day, but she is making an effort to be cheerful. So I do the same. She notices I am reading a Janet Evanovich book and we briefly chat about the crazy antics of Stephanie Plum and who should play who in the movie. She weighs me, takes my temperature, blood pressure, blood oxygen, and pulse. Oddly, My blood pressure has increased by about 16 points both systolic and diastolic. Probably because I am now annoyed, tired, hungry, and I have cramps. Plus I am stressing about getting caught in Friday afternoon, Atlanta, rush hour traffic. IMHO, It's as bad as Manhattan & Houston combined, only worse because it's in such a small space. Did I forget to mention I have my period? I'm not supposed to have it right now because they have me on BCP's. Then she takes a complete medical history and asks for any prescription meds and vitamins I might be taking, I give her my list. She is suitably awed and grateful. I have an alphabetized, color co-ordinated list of all my medications, vitamins, and past surgeries. On the back I put all my docs info and the phone and fax numbers to my preferred pharmacy. An anesthesiologist comes in and asks if I have ever had surgery before and if so did I have problems with the anesthesia. I tell her no. Not quite true, but I learned the hard way, that if you tell them that you once had trouble coming out of anesthesia, then they don't give you enough and you feel pain before you leave the hospital, let alone get home. The anesthesiologist takes 4 vials of blood as per my surgeons orders. She then tapes some gauze to my arm and I am sent on my merry way. It is now 1:30 PM, the whole process took about 4 hours.

Just to re-cap, they:
reviewed the surgical procedure I will be having and asked if I had any questions
took 4 vials of blood
weighed me
took a complete medical history
updated the list of my prescription medications and vitamin supplements
took my blood pressure
took my temperature
took my pulse
took my blood oxygen

So now I am all set for my second hysteroscopic myomectomy in 3 months. God willing this will be the last time I have to do this.

Mini-Drama
When the Susan Powter look-a-like was done, I went back to the waiting room and didn't see mom. I thought maybe she went to the cafeteria or the bathroom so I started walking down the hall in that direction. I'm not 10' from the waiting area when I see a woman collapesd on the floor and 3 people standing around her not doing anything. I ask what's wrong and am faced with shrugs. I ask if they called a nurse and they said no. I quickly go back inside and tell them a woman has passed out and needs help. Some idiot clerk says 'on the floor?' I said yeah rather sarcastically. Fortunately someone with a brain heard me and 2 nurses came running to help this poor woman. From what I could hear she was diabetic and had been waiting soooo long in pre-op testing she got woozy. She was on her way to the cafeteria when she passed out. To make matters worse her right foot was in one of those grey plastic surgical boots. I was afraid she had re-injured herself from the fall.

So to make a long story longer, I was not exaggerating. The pre-op testing process at Emory University Midtown Hospital is ridicuously long. Anytime you have people passing out from hunger, the wait is TOO long! They should be ashamed of themselves. I understand that depending on what your surgery is you may need to give a urine sample, have an x-ray, an EKG, and/or an EEG in addition to the things I had done today. Regardless, that should not be a 4 hour process. It just doesn't make sense.

How many responsible adults do you know?

Here's the problem, I have to have another hysteroscopic myomectomy on 8/25/09. Whenever you have a surgical procedure, not matter how minor they say, "Make sure you have a responsible adult who can drive you home." Sadly, I no longer have a responsible adult in my life, whom I can trust to do this. I have no idea how I got to this point in my life.

When I had the hysteroscopic myomectomy in May 2009 my mom drove me to and from the hospital. The problem with this is that the hospital is 46 miles away in Atlanta; and mom hates city driving. Mom is also 79 and has cataracts. Apparently while I was in surgery my mom slipped and fell in the waiting room . . . face first. She ended up with a big goose egg on her forehead and her right eyelid was bruised various shades of black, purple, and blue for about 2 weeks. So there I am in recovery worried sick about my mom and how we are gonna get home. Fortunately she was able to drive us home; but when she stopped at Walmart to get the prescription for my painkillers filled she decided to do some shopping and was annoyed that I didn't then want to go to Target which is another 20 minutes away. "Earth to mom, HELLO MOM! Just had fibroids yanked out of my uterus, I need to lie down and take drugs." She then told me she did not like my disrespectful tone. This is why I no longer feel I can trust her to be my responsible adult, in these situations. I don't mind having her along, but I need someone else to drive me.

Oddly this is not the first time something like this has happend to me. In 2006 when I had the surgery that determined my vulvar cancer was benign, I had my best friend since high school drive me. This woman was valedectorian of her class, a National Merit Scholar, and came in 2nd place on Jeopardy. Yet even though I told her on the way out of the hospital that the anesthesia was wearing off and I was in major pain and just wanted to get my Rx filled and go to sleep. This dear, sweet, otherwise intelligent friend, decided she needed to stop at a Walmart for a freakin' oil change on the way home! She literally dropped me off at the front door and then drove around back, to the auto bays. Fortunately the were all booked up.

I need to make some new friends that live nearby. The kind of friends that can be responsible adults. It's not like I'm an antisocial hermit. Although I have many good friends there are only 4 I would consider responsible adults. Of the four, the one that lives the closest is about 90 miles away and she works as a teacher so it's not like she can just take off work to chauffer me around.

1)How do you define a responsible adult?
2)How many responsible adults do you know?
3)If you had to go to the hospital for surgery, who could you trust to pick you up from the hospital, get your painkiller prescription filled, and take you home?