Monday, April 27, 2015

Escaping the every day

I won't lie to you - bed rest (or couch rest...) utterly SUCKS! I hate, hate, hate sitting around and doing nothing much (or too much of the same thing!) There is only so much TV a girl can watch and I have never been so glad for the School term to resume so I can drive to the Island each day.

My first day back behind the wheel, actually didn't happen until day 13 post op (I was originally given 1 week clearance - however a small altercation involving a coughing fit + a popped open belly button + new stitches & glue put me back nearly an extra week! 

When I finally did jump in the car, it was only a quick but nerve wracking drive to the island. Stopping off for a much needed piece of cheesecake and a REAL coffee on the way! We found a deserted section of beach with a concrete ledge I could perch upon while my daughter ran and cartwheeled and squealed after being let out of the house. She is such a little trooper and declared that she had the BEST holidays ever - even though it felt like we did nothing at all. 



Over the weekend I insisted we go for a drive and found ourselves at the Dam. With coffee and donut (are you spying a theme happening here) coupled with a pounding headache - we set up our chairs on along the grassy bank of the dam and soaked in the blue skies and sunshine while breathing in the fresh air. 


This past weekend weekend we had another small outing. This time along a different waterfront. Quiet open space. More water. There is something so soothing about being near the water.  

This post has precisely diddly-squat to do with anything of any relevance. But that is okay - this is all about me remembering to embrace small moments in life, rather than dwelling on the parts I cannot change. And reminding me that it is okay to exercise patience. For now. This won't last forever.      

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Calm...

Calm Blue Ocean

Two things happened the week before my operation that made me stop and think. 

The first was a long walk along the beach with my bestie, talking as we do best and a lengthy conversation about my operation. 

Before we took this walk, I admit I found telling people... really bloody hard. More often than not, silence would descend over us as the other person took in the magnitude of my decision. In the end it was easier NOT to say anything for fear of making them uncomfortable. And truly I am the QUEEN of uncomfortable conversations. 

"Oh you have endometriosis... what is that, I've never heard of it." 

"Oh its a disease where each month you bleed outside of the uterus and it causes extreme pain and heavy periods" {shortened version to save THEM being more uncomfortable}

The mere mention of periods are a sure thing to halt a conversation. 

During our walk I chatted to my friend and she mentioned to me that I am so direct about my issues and that she thought I was so brave and strong. I sort of joked it off by saying "What you don't think I am a gigantic drama queen?" because some days I feel like I sort of maybe am; for the record she said no, she thought I was nowhere near drama queen status!   

but... I keep a blog and write about it openly for crying out loud (though my reasoning for sharing so deeply on this blog has always been to help other girls not feel so alone during their own battles) 

I rolled these words from my friend around for a while. It is sobering to hear people offer you a different view of yourself. So it was I found myself in my psych's office a few days later and after chatting for a while. She interrupted me and said "You come across as a really calm person. The way you speak and deliver what is happening to you. I do suspect that underneath that layer of calm you are caught in a turmoil of emotions." 

I stared at her for a nanosecond before replying - YES underneath my calm exterior I am an absolute mess. My thoughts jumbled and criss crossed together and I didn't know where one ended and the next started. The anxiety I was feeling about the impending operation was adding to this. My biggest problem was how I went about letting these feelings flood out of me. 

Tomorrow I am two weeks post operation, I am still outwardly calm but I am starting to spy breaks in my armour. If I never showed my hand how can I expect more from people? I wonder if I hadn't acted so calm approaching this operation, would they realise that my emotions run that much deeper than mere words can possibly describe? Have I done the right thing by shielding them from my tears and witnessing my pain? 

Yet on the other hand there are some bloody awesome people who have stepped up in ways I can never ever repay. They are there for me when I'm having a bitter moment. They cry with me when I'm having a shitful day. But even then, they are not being shown the full extent of my emotions. Because I try to be wary of how much I lean on them before they get sick of me turning into some weird crazy arse drama queen. (& do remind me to come back and share the cereal incident!)  

Yet this calm exterior threatens me with every moment I spend alone. Late at night when sleep eludes me, during the day when I escape to lie down for a much needed rest. Tears prickle at my eyelids as  the magnitude of this operation smacks me between the eyes all over again. 

While I might look "calm" on the outside. The real pain is lurking on the inside. As my seared and chopped up insides burn as they fuse together and slowly heal. As my heart hammers loudly within my chest. As my head and heart yearn to say goodbye, but simply don't know where or how to begin that epic journey.        

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Releasing to the universe {or blogiverse}

Yesterday after I pressed Publish on *that* post - relief coursed through me. I took myself back to bed (my hubby had ordered strict bed rest before leaving me home alone) and once I was snuggled up in bed, I wrote and wrote in my journal. Releasing pent up emotions from the previous month and as the tears flowed down my cheeks, I finally let myself wallow in the moment.

Last night I slept through.

This morning I am feeling refreshed and am embracing what will become known as a "good day!" I am not saying that every day will be as good, but I feel better equipped to face each day good or bad and do what needs to be done to get through them.

It never felt right to be holding myself back from this space. It was this space that saved me four years ago as I spiralled and fought back. My little haven here helped me to discover myself and give me the oomph to grow and become more than what I originally anticipated.  I can feel this need growing within me again... so... {read on}

Before I went to hospital I had this CRAZY notion that I could attempt Camp NaNoWriMo
I'm not really sure what on earth I was thinking - but I had this idea that morphine induced creative writing would be an AWESOME thing. In all seriousness - if I could imagine a crazy ass idea like that BEFORE drugs, imagine what I could do post. Well it turns out that I did not receive any Morphine - instead they gave me something stronger which just rendered me SO SO SLEEPY! So while Camp kicked off - I spent the first few days dozing on and off for 48 hours... Not such a great  start huh?

Which really is a pain in the butt... because that was only part one of crazy idea. Part two came in the form of realising I simply HAD to make myself a #fauxdori (which is a leather style notebook, like the midori journals) for my creative writing endeavours only. Please don't question me - sometimes it is easier if you nod and agree. You can see more of how I made it & what is inside it here

Currently it holds four notebooks. Notebook 1: a lined midori - which will be for stories when I am out and about. Notebook 2: a home-made grid book - that for now has sketches and notes and information about my current novel (lets call it my brainstorming pages) Notebook 3: a plain midori - still deciding on this one, but I think I will use it for photos of my settings plus possibly some sketching of my characters if I feel like being super creative. Notebook 4: a homemade rainbow book - this one will contain quotes and notes I take from my own reading. I have downloaded a stack of writing books to my kindle and I figure if there is anything that stands out as I read through them, I can jot them here. 
I even found these cute little charms on my travels and I thought there were perfect to add to the front cover. Since my current story involves supernatural themes - I thought these were the perfect fit. And before you ask - I know making a journal and adding charms and talking about writing; is the ultimate form of procrastination - but honestly if you were a writer and could use your very own notebook dedicated for your story - would you not jump at the chance to own one?


  

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Finding the missing words

The past few weeks I have begun to feel I have lost my way with this blog. I have not written a decent blog post - nor attempted any creative writing pieces and every time I sit here to write about what has happened - the words escape me. Words that usually flow from my brain to my keyboard,  are now locked inside me and I am truly struggling. Not only am I unable to articulate the absolute whirlwind of emotions that are flooding my body I cannot begin to separate my thoughts and really say how I am feeling. 

It isn't that I don't want to share my thoughts here. I do. I just. Well I have struggled. 

Earlier last month I alluded to another operation. That operation - number 6 - has been and gone and I sit here a week and three days later and I still cannot find the words. 

Perhaps it was the rush in which I went to undergo the operation. Four weeks from discussions with my specialist, to landing myself on the operating table. Four measly weeks. Yet I couldn't have waited longer - my anxiety leading up the operation was extreme. 

It took me five months from when I first got my referral to the specialist, to pick up the phone and book an appointment. In those five months I went back and forth several times. From the moment I walked into my specialists rooms and discussed my limited options - I felt relieved. 

Based on my symptoms, combined with an ultrasound and the location of my last two excision surgeries - the specialist suspected Adenomyosis. 

Look it up. It is similar to endometriosis but unlike endometriosis the only definitive way of "knowing" you have it and curing it is Hysterectomy. 

I am not new to the word. Since the GP suggested one at the start of 2012 it has lingered in the back of my mind like a dirty little secret. Back then I still wanted another baby and I was still young, it wasn't an option and I did nothing with the first referral she gave me. 

I won't lie the past two years have been hell. 

When I started getting days of headaches coinciding with my cycle, on top of the PMT and extreme fatigue plus unrelenting pain; enough was enough. I saw my GP (no tears) got my referral, saw my specialist (no tears) discussed dates of operation and then I booked myself into my psych (no tears) for a couple of bonus "coping" appointments and suddenly it was all systems go. The tears finally arrived with an extreme panic attack the Thursday before the operation. 

Last week I awoke from the anaesthetic with minimal pain and feeling no different to every other operation I have endured. The past week hasn't ALL been wonder and roses. There has been lots of bed rest, a trip to the emergency department and so many tears and worries and a lot of outside stressors. The only physical difference (apart from four new incisions) is I have lost my bloated stomach and I have lost nearly ALL the weight I had gained in the past 6 months. 

While I'm not ecstatic that everything has led to this conclusion, I have a small glimmer of a fantastic pain free future to look forward to.