Today I made the 360 mile round trip drive for my one month follow up post TT with the endocrinologist.
Immediately he was aggravated by the fact that my infant son came with me to the appointment. I have no one to watch him during the day, and on a long drive such as that, I wanted my husband along for moral support. So the appointment in general started off on the wrong foot.
He mentioned my calcium levels were low, but didn't discuss details, just jumped right into the RAI discussion.
This may sound silly to some, but I cannot swallow large pills. I have NEVER been able to. I don't know why, I just can't. So for me, it was important to know the size of the RAI capsule. To him, this was an irrelevant question. I tried to explain to him that I cannot even swallow a Tylenol without breaking it in half and that I didn't think I would be able to swallow the I131 capsule and instead would like the liquid form. I also attempted to mention that I had not fully weaned my son yet, and was completely brushed off.
He has already refused to refill my synthroid as he wants me to have RAI in 4-6 weeks at the most, as soon as I become hypo and do two weeks on LID. I know from my research, I need to be completely done breastfeeding for 6-8 weeks prior to RAI, but he ignored me.
When I re-iterated the fact that I can't swallow pills he acted fed up and told me he didn't know what he could do for me then, and that I needed to seek treatment elsewhere. He then said "you didn't have to drive all this way for this appointment, you could have just done a teleconference". That was just the icing on the cake, considering this was my 6th trip to Marquette in two months, they knew exactly how far I was driving and this has never been mentioned prior to now.
SO yes. I'm firing my endocrinologist.
I used to live near a large hospital that is world renowned for their cancer care. 8 months ago, I moved 350 miles away to a tiny island in Michigan's upper peninsula. The care up here..is lacking, to say the least. Honestly? I should have done more research, but my care options were pretty limited because I had a medicaid HMO. So rather than try to fight the insurance company, I saw the only ENT and Endocrinologist on the plan and had my thyroid removed immediately.
I feel a lot of distrust towards the world renowned hospital downstate, as they have monitored my thyroid nodules for 3 years, told me I was fine, even as recent as October of 2010. If I hadn't moved up here and if my new family pcp didn't want to take a closer look herself, I'd be none the wiser while the cancer continued to spread...
So although I distrust the particular clinic I was dealing with.. I've put in a request for a consultation with the cancer center.. because I'm hoping that I will receive better care there than what I am currently receiving.
I'm not sure how I'm going to swing the transportation costs, as the trip will double in length..but what can you do?...
Nothing can ever be simple..
Anyone have some synthroid I can borrow?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
So I have cancer.
Yesterday's appointment was more a formality than anything else. I anticipated the pathology report would just come back a confirmation. Have I mentioned I'm not an optimistic person in the least?
What threw me a bit, however, is that the cancer has metastisized into my lymph nodes. I was not prepared to hear that. I knew it was a possibility, but I didn't think it would be a possibility for ME, if that makes any sense? Not that I find myself better or less deserving than anyone else, I just figured if the nodule didn't appear cancerous on the ultrasound, and if the biopsy only found a few cells than maybe I'd get off scott free with just a total thyroidectomy and be done.
No such luck.
My surgeon removed 10 lymph nodes, and one of the ten was positive for papillary thyroid cancer. Unfortunately only the PA was available during yesterday's appointment so I am waiting some clarification from my surgeon as to what all exactly this report means. I understand the jest of it, but there are a few parts I have questions on. He is in surgery again today, so hopefully I'll hear from him later or tomorrow.
The PA said because the cancer has spread, I do have to have the RAI ablation. Which means, I need to wean Jayden pretty much immediately. I'm disappointed, and sad for my son, as well as myself, that our nursing time is going to be cut short. I've decided to let him continue to nurse as regular for the next week, most likely until I return to work, and then start weaning him. I have no real game plan in mind.. it's going to be hard and there will be a lot of tears and hurt feelings and confusion involved. I'm not looking forward to and am trying to cherish the little time we have left.
Admittedly, even though I was expecting to hear I had cancer, I am a bit overwhelmed and full of anxiety at the moment. I know it could be so much worse but right now, honestly? I'm just feeling a bit sorry for myself.
I have to go back to Marquette April 15th to meet with the endocrinologist and figure out the full treatment plan I suppose. The PA also mentioned an oncologist but I guess I'll find out more on whether or not that is necessary whenever I can discuss the pathology report with my surgeon.
It's a lot to take in. Just trying to breath and not freak out.
On the positive end of things, I got the lab results back from my calcium levels yesterday, and while they are low, they are on the low end of NORMAL range. So hopefully this means my parathyroid glands are coming out of their surgical comas and starting to function again. I'm so over TUMS already.
What threw me a bit, however, is that the cancer has metastisized into my lymph nodes. I was not prepared to hear that. I knew it was a possibility, but I didn't think it would be a possibility for ME, if that makes any sense? Not that I find myself better or less deserving than anyone else, I just figured if the nodule didn't appear cancerous on the ultrasound, and if the biopsy only found a few cells than maybe I'd get off scott free with just a total thyroidectomy and be done.
No such luck.
My surgeon removed 10 lymph nodes, and one of the ten was positive for papillary thyroid cancer. Unfortunately only the PA was available during yesterday's appointment so I am waiting some clarification from my surgeon as to what all exactly this report means. I understand the jest of it, but there are a few parts I have questions on. He is in surgery again today, so hopefully I'll hear from him later or tomorrow.
The PA said because the cancer has spread, I do have to have the RAI ablation. Which means, I need to wean Jayden pretty much immediately. I'm disappointed, and sad for my son, as well as myself, that our nursing time is going to be cut short. I've decided to let him continue to nurse as regular for the next week, most likely until I return to work, and then start weaning him. I have no real game plan in mind.. it's going to be hard and there will be a lot of tears and hurt feelings and confusion involved. I'm not looking forward to and am trying to cherish the little time we have left.
Admittedly, even though I was expecting to hear I had cancer, I am a bit overwhelmed and full of anxiety at the moment. I know it could be so much worse but right now, honestly? I'm just feeling a bit sorry for myself.
I have to go back to Marquette April 15th to meet with the endocrinologist and figure out the full treatment plan I suppose. The PA also mentioned an oncologist but I guess I'll find out more on whether or not that is necessary whenever I can discuss the pathology report with my surgeon.
It's a lot to take in. Just trying to breath and not freak out.
On the positive end of things, I got the lab results back from my calcium levels yesterday, and while they are low, they are on the low end of NORMAL range. So hopefully this means my parathyroid glands are coming out of their surgical comas and starting to function again. I'm so over TUMS already.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I had a total thyroidectomy on 3/17/10.
The days that lead up to the procedure were stressful and full of panic for me. We took the kids on what was supposed to be a mini vacation to Wisconsin Dells, for a little R&R before everything got a bit chaotic. As far as I know (unless they have been eavesdropping), they don't really know the extent of what is going on. (Hell, I don't either at this point..). Anyhow, my stress, combined with a long drive, and their usual crabbiness amongst themselves made our fun trip not as fun as it should have been. Thats not to say that I didn't enjoy it, but it had the potential to be so much better. I was supposed to take a bunch of pictures and honestly, my mood was so blah.. the entire time. I didn't even go on a single water slide, just followed Jayden around to wherever he felt like exploring. And I love water slides, if that says anything.. we got a few shots, but hardly enough to account for a three day vacation.
The drive back to Michigan was long, especially through northern Wisconsin. We passed miles and miles of what appeared to be abandoned train cars. I meant to take down the name of the town so I could google it to see if there was any information- literally over 200 cars just sitting. I was sidetracked however. My mind was going in circles by that point.
We checked into our hotel and pretty much went straight to bed. I had to be to the hospital the following morning @ 11:30 am. I woke up early and I'm not going to lie, I was downright bitchy. I was so afraid, of so many things. Mainly, my biggest fear of general anesthesia is not waking up. I just had this impending feeling of doom, like this was going to be the last time I kissed my kids sort of feeling. I was choked up all morning and snappy at the same time. I bought a recordable book the day before, just in case my voice was altered or impaired during the surgery. I know I'm a pessimest, but I wanted my kids to have something, even if it sounds a bit silly. I also thought maybe it would help Jayden get through the first night we've ever been a part. I was so emotional when recording that book.. I had to kick everyone out of the hotel room because I couldn't stop crying. Everything changes once you have kids. They are my everything, and I breathe because of them, and I couldn't help but imagine their life without me in it, and it was sad and scary. I really need to work on being more optimistic.
The hospital was literally around the corner from our hotel. I told Larry it looked like a shopping mall when we pulled it. The lobby area was beautiful, rustic setting with a fireplace. I found the check in area, and while holding Jayden I told the lady at the desk I was checking in. I was a little taken aback when she looked at me and asked if I was in labor.
First and foremost, if a woman is in labor, she's usually beat you to the punch line on that one, and it's not a question that needs to be asked. At least in my case, whenever I was in labor, I was very loud and clear about what was currently going on. Secondly, who calmly holds thier one year old son and sits down at the desk in front of you, while digging through her purse for her medical cards and ID if she is in labor?!!? I mean yea I know I was stress eating for two weeks prior, but I don't think I put on enough weight to look pregnant for CRYING OUT LOUD.
Once she finally got her end of things straightened out, I had to go to the lab and then to pre-op. I was fortunate that they let my family hang out with me. By the time I had to put on my gown and such I was balling my eyes out. The kids and Larry hung out for a bit, and then when they started getting antsy, we took advantage of the free childcare program the hospital offered. It allowed him to be by my side without interruption and we were able to speak more freely to the nurses and anesthesiologist about health history and things that the kids didn't necessarily know about or need to know about. As usual, there were issues with getting an IV started on me (I have super tiny veins) and the anesthesiologist had to do it because she needed to use a smaller IV catheter. She was such a nice lady, and did her best at trying to keep me calm. Ultimately though my nerves got the best of me and I ended up getting sedated a bit before my procedure. I know Larry went and got the kids and I kissed them all and told them I loved them but he said I was zoning out well before they wheeled me off. All I remember after that is them pushing another full syringe of sedative into the IV and the oxygen mask, and then everything is sort of blurry from that point forward.
I remember hearing the anesthesiologist's voice in the recovery area asking how I felt and I remember saying I felt sick and her giving me Zofran. I vaguely remember my kids and Larry coming to see me in my room that night after the surgery (which lasted about 4 hours), and Ashia saying that I looked dead. I know I had my blood drawn a few times in between consciousness and around 11:30 that night I finally got out of bed to use the restroom and needed pain medication. I didn't really come to though, until 5 am the following morning, and then I was super nauseous, most likely the result of a lot of pain medication on an extremely empty stomach. Thankfully the nurses were able to give me Zofran which worked immediately.
At around 7:00 am my surgeon came in to check on me and removed the drain from my neck, which was probably one of the most disgusting things I've ever felt. He told me one side of my thyroid resembled a cluster of grapes and he needed to literally peel the parathyroid gland(s?) out of it, and the other had a nodule the size of a golf ball. He also told me that my calcium levels were dropping due to the shock of the surgery and we went over the medications I would be taking and my post operative discharge instructions.
I ordered a whole bunch of food for breakfast, even though my throat was extremely sore and it hurt to swallow, thinking that I would be able to get something down. As soon as it arrived, another wave of nausea hit and all that I was able to accomplish was two bites of a banana and a bite of muffin before just hanging my head to the side. Damn Lortab. I had to wait a little bit for my husband and kids to check out of the hotel room and I had the nurse check to see if I could get another dose of Zofran before I was actually discharged. Thankfully she was able to get it cleared, because we had a 3.5 hour drive ahead of us.
It felt like forever but I finally saw my husband and kids walking down the hall. I ended up having Larry send the kids back to the childcare while we got all of our paperwork in order and worked on getting my prescriptions filled. That place was an absolute godsend because it kept them occupied while we needed to take care of important matters...
The drive home was uneventful and long. I slept pretty much the rest of Friday once we got home and almost all of Saturday. Saturday the low calcium levels really started to affect me. My lips went numb many times, I had tingles in my arms and legs and my jaw would lock up if I tried to chew. It was excruciating when that happened and I could feel the muscle spasms all the way in my ear drums. I'm pretty sure I took the maximum recommended dosage for Tums that day, but it was all I could do to keep comfortable. My whole body felt like it was buzzing, but not in a good way. I just felt..weird.
Each day of my recovery, I've gotten progressively better. I haven't taken any narcotics for pain since Friday afternoon on our drive home. I've just been taken extra strength tylenol, about once every 12 hours. The pain isn't bad, more annoying than anything. I've not really kept track at how much calcium I've had to take the past few days, but I know that each day it seems to be less and less and I'm not nearly as symptomatic as I was the first two days. I'm hoping this means my parathyroid glands are starting to function normally on their own. Overall, i feel as 'ok' as I can, I suppose. I still have the steritape over the incision, but I can tell my neck is bruised underneath. The incision itself is about 4" long right at the base of my neck. I'm pretty freaked out to see what it looks like without the tape covering it, honestly...
Tomorrow is the moment of truth. We have to go back to the ENT office for my post operative appointment to have the steritape removed and to go over the pathology report. I'm nervous. I kept telling myself all week that I was prepared for this, we already have an idea of how this is going to go, but frankly I'm not.
I'm scared.
I expect it to be cancer. Tomorrow is just a formality, a confirmation of what we already know, if you will. I'm hoping that I'm wrong, but realistically? The biopsy results were as clear as they could be without the thyroid sitting directly under the pathologist's microscope. I'm hoping that although it is the "big c", that we receive some positive news, like it hasn't spread to my lymph nodes, and that their initial diagnosis of papillary thyroid cancer is correct, because honestly, it's the best case scenario.
I've armed myself with information, so I kind of know what to expect tomorrow. I feel that knowledge is power. Some people have told me not to look into all of this stuff, just listen to the doctors, but I can't. I have to know, so I can prepare myself. I don't like being blindsided. I am as prepared as I can possibly be for my appointment tomorrow, and I just want to get it over with. I need to know where I stand.
But honestly? I still haven't caught my breath yet, since the wind was knocked out of me a few weeks back. I'm a little tired of hearing that this is "the best kind of cancer" to have. It's still cancer. Cancer may be a word, not necessarily a sentence, but it is still a very scary word to deal with, especially when you have four kids at home who rely on their mom to be well enough to take care of them.
I'm scared, and I can't sleep because I have too much on my mind. I've found some great resources on the web and I just want to keep reading and reading and part of me thinks that maybe by doing so, it will lessen the blow of the news, or maybe I can displace myself, just for a little while, and pretend this is happening to someone else, and not me.
The days that lead up to the procedure were stressful and full of panic for me. We took the kids on what was supposed to be a mini vacation to Wisconsin Dells, for a little R&R before everything got a bit chaotic. As far as I know (unless they have been eavesdropping), they don't really know the extent of what is going on. (Hell, I don't either at this point..). Anyhow, my stress, combined with a long drive, and their usual crabbiness amongst themselves made our fun trip not as fun as it should have been. Thats not to say that I didn't enjoy it, but it had the potential to be so much better. I was supposed to take a bunch of pictures and honestly, my mood was so blah.. the entire time. I didn't even go on a single water slide, just followed Jayden around to wherever he felt like exploring. And I love water slides, if that says anything.. we got a few shots, but hardly enough to account for a three day vacation.
The drive back to Michigan was long, especially through northern Wisconsin. We passed miles and miles of what appeared to be abandoned train cars. I meant to take down the name of the town so I could google it to see if there was any information- literally over 200 cars just sitting. I was sidetracked however. My mind was going in circles by that point.
We checked into our hotel and pretty much went straight to bed. I had to be to the hospital the following morning @ 11:30 am. I woke up early and I'm not going to lie, I was downright bitchy. I was so afraid, of so many things. Mainly, my biggest fear of general anesthesia is not waking up. I just had this impending feeling of doom, like this was going to be the last time I kissed my kids sort of feeling. I was choked up all morning and snappy at the same time. I bought a recordable book the day before, just in case my voice was altered or impaired during the surgery. I know I'm a pessimest, but I wanted my kids to have something, even if it sounds a bit silly. I also thought maybe it would help Jayden get through the first night we've ever been a part. I was so emotional when recording that book.. I had to kick everyone out of the hotel room because I couldn't stop crying. Everything changes once you have kids. They are my everything, and I breathe because of them, and I couldn't help but imagine their life without me in it, and it was sad and scary. I really need to work on being more optimistic.
The hospital was literally around the corner from our hotel. I told Larry it looked like a shopping mall when we pulled it. The lobby area was beautiful, rustic setting with a fireplace. I found the check in area, and while holding Jayden I told the lady at the desk I was checking in. I was a little taken aback when she looked at me and asked if I was in labor.
First and foremost, if a woman is in labor, she's usually beat you to the punch line on that one, and it's not a question that needs to be asked. At least in my case, whenever I was in labor, I was very loud and clear about what was currently going on. Secondly, who calmly holds thier one year old son and sits down at the desk in front of you, while digging through her purse for her medical cards and ID if she is in labor?!!? I mean yea I know I was stress eating for two weeks prior, but I don't think I put on enough weight to look pregnant for CRYING OUT LOUD.
Once she finally got her end of things straightened out, I had to go to the lab and then to pre-op. I was fortunate that they let my family hang out with me. By the time I had to put on my gown and such I was balling my eyes out. The kids and Larry hung out for a bit, and then when they started getting antsy, we took advantage of the free childcare program the hospital offered. It allowed him to be by my side without interruption and we were able to speak more freely to the nurses and anesthesiologist about health history and things that the kids didn't necessarily know about or need to know about. As usual, there were issues with getting an IV started on me (I have super tiny veins) and the anesthesiologist had to do it because she needed to use a smaller IV catheter. She was such a nice lady, and did her best at trying to keep me calm. Ultimately though my nerves got the best of me and I ended up getting sedated a bit before my procedure. I know Larry went and got the kids and I kissed them all and told them I loved them but he said I was zoning out well before they wheeled me off. All I remember after that is them pushing another full syringe of sedative into the IV and the oxygen mask, and then everything is sort of blurry from that point forward.
I remember hearing the anesthesiologist's voice in the recovery area asking how I felt and I remember saying I felt sick and her giving me Zofran. I vaguely remember my kids and Larry coming to see me in my room that night after the surgery (which lasted about 4 hours), and Ashia saying that I looked dead. I know I had my blood drawn a few times in between consciousness and around 11:30 that night I finally got out of bed to use the restroom and needed pain medication. I didn't really come to though, until 5 am the following morning, and then I was super nauseous, most likely the result of a lot of pain medication on an extremely empty stomach. Thankfully the nurses were able to give me Zofran which worked immediately.
At around 7:00 am my surgeon came in to check on me and removed the drain from my neck, which was probably one of the most disgusting things I've ever felt. He told me one side of my thyroid resembled a cluster of grapes and he needed to literally peel the parathyroid gland(s?) out of it, and the other had a nodule the size of a golf ball. He also told me that my calcium levels were dropping due to the shock of the surgery and we went over the medications I would be taking and my post operative discharge instructions.
I ordered a whole bunch of food for breakfast, even though my throat was extremely sore and it hurt to swallow, thinking that I would be able to get something down. As soon as it arrived, another wave of nausea hit and all that I was able to accomplish was two bites of a banana and a bite of muffin before just hanging my head to the side. Damn Lortab. I had to wait a little bit for my husband and kids to check out of the hotel room and I had the nurse check to see if I could get another dose of Zofran before I was actually discharged. Thankfully she was able to get it cleared, because we had a 3.5 hour drive ahead of us.
It felt like forever but I finally saw my husband and kids walking down the hall. I ended up having Larry send the kids back to the childcare while we got all of our paperwork in order and worked on getting my prescriptions filled. That place was an absolute godsend because it kept them occupied while we needed to take care of important matters...
The drive home was uneventful and long. I slept pretty much the rest of Friday once we got home and almost all of Saturday. Saturday the low calcium levels really started to affect me. My lips went numb many times, I had tingles in my arms and legs and my jaw would lock up if I tried to chew. It was excruciating when that happened and I could feel the muscle spasms all the way in my ear drums. I'm pretty sure I took the maximum recommended dosage for Tums that day, but it was all I could do to keep comfortable. My whole body felt like it was buzzing, but not in a good way. I just felt..weird.
Each day of my recovery, I've gotten progressively better. I haven't taken any narcotics for pain since Friday afternoon on our drive home. I've just been taken extra strength tylenol, about once every 12 hours. The pain isn't bad, more annoying than anything. I've not really kept track at how much calcium I've had to take the past few days, but I know that each day it seems to be less and less and I'm not nearly as symptomatic as I was the first two days. I'm hoping this means my parathyroid glands are starting to function normally on their own. Overall, i feel as 'ok' as I can, I suppose. I still have the steritape over the incision, but I can tell my neck is bruised underneath. The incision itself is about 4" long right at the base of my neck. I'm pretty freaked out to see what it looks like without the tape covering it, honestly...
Tomorrow is the moment of truth. We have to go back to the ENT office for my post operative appointment to have the steritape removed and to go over the pathology report. I'm nervous. I kept telling myself all week that I was prepared for this, we already have an idea of how this is going to go, but frankly I'm not.
I'm scared.
I expect it to be cancer. Tomorrow is just a formality, a confirmation of what we already know, if you will. I'm hoping that I'm wrong, but realistically? The biopsy results were as clear as they could be without the thyroid sitting directly under the pathologist's microscope. I'm hoping that although it is the "big c", that we receive some positive news, like it hasn't spread to my lymph nodes, and that their initial diagnosis of papillary thyroid cancer is correct, because honestly, it's the best case scenario.
I've armed myself with information, so I kind of know what to expect tomorrow. I feel that knowledge is power. Some people have told me not to look into all of this stuff, just listen to the doctors, but I can't. I have to know, so I can prepare myself. I don't like being blindsided. I am as prepared as I can possibly be for my appointment tomorrow, and I just want to get it over with. I need to know where I stand.
But honestly? I still haven't caught my breath yet, since the wind was knocked out of me a few weeks back. I'm a little tired of hearing that this is "the best kind of cancer" to have. It's still cancer. Cancer may be a word, not necessarily a sentence, but it is still a very scary word to deal with, especially when you have four kids at home who rely on their mom to be well enough to take care of them.
I'm scared, and I can't sleep because I have too much on my mind. I've found some great resources on the web and I just want to keep reading and reading and part of me thinks that maybe by doing so, it will lessen the blow of the news, or maybe I can displace myself, just for a little while, and pretend this is happening to someone else, and not me.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
So it's been a few days. I've been trying to process all of this and in a very short amount of time.
I went to see my regular PCP on Thursday and we discussed a little more in depth my probable treatment. My medical chart now officially says I have thyroid cancer, although it won't be formally diagnosed until after the pathologist has a chunk of my thyroid in front of him or her under the microscope. It's a lot to take in and I'm trying to keep my anxiety in check but so far, I'm failing pretty miserably.
I found out from my doctor that RAI treatment is pretty much standard after a thyroid cancer diagnosis. This was something I hadn't really looked into before, and only briefly discussed with my endocrinologist after the biopsy was performed and he was urging me to just have my thyroid removed regardless of the results. I didn't ask enough questions (because at the time, I wasn't concerned at all that this could have turned cancerous, as I had a benign biopsy three years ago...), and I greatly misunderstood what this meant for my nursing relationship with my son.
If I have to have the RAI treatment, I need to stop nursing immediately. I thought I could simply take a break, pump and dump and continue on. Unfortunately, this is not the case. From what I have read, you need to discontinue nursing 6-8 weeks prior to the treatment, and because you are pretty much a glow stick for awhile, you cannot continue to nurse as the radioactive iodine remains in your system for several months.
It may sound silly, considering everything else, that I am devastated by this. I spent all of Thursday night crying over this. I am just so sad, for my son, for myself, that there is this strong possibility that we will be weaning suddenly in the next week or so. My heart just aches, because I'm not prepared mentally or emotionally to give this up, and Jayden is very much a comfort nurser and in no way is he ready to wean. I never knew I would feel this strongly about breastfeeding, to be completely honest. I am trying to cherish each nursing session we have now, because I know in my gut that it's most likely coming to an end sooner than I had anticipated.
I have a lot to do today. I'm off work now, and tomorrow we leave for Wisconsin for 3 nights, before heading to Ishpeming, where my surgery is taking place. I'm caught in between wanting to hurry up and get this all over and done with, to wishing time would just stand still so things can remain as they are for awhile longer.
I'm still holding out hope that maybe the pathology report from the biopsy was wrong, but if I listen to my gut, I'm pretty sure the next pathology report will be a confirmation.
I went to see my regular PCP on Thursday and we discussed a little more in depth my probable treatment. My medical chart now officially says I have thyroid cancer, although it won't be formally diagnosed until after the pathologist has a chunk of my thyroid in front of him or her under the microscope. It's a lot to take in and I'm trying to keep my anxiety in check but so far, I'm failing pretty miserably.
I found out from my doctor that RAI treatment is pretty much standard after a thyroid cancer diagnosis. This was something I hadn't really looked into before, and only briefly discussed with my endocrinologist after the biopsy was performed and he was urging me to just have my thyroid removed regardless of the results. I didn't ask enough questions (because at the time, I wasn't concerned at all that this could have turned cancerous, as I had a benign biopsy three years ago...), and I greatly misunderstood what this meant for my nursing relationship with my son.
If I have to have the RAI treatment, I need to stop nursing immediately. I thought I could simply take a break, pump and dump and continue on. Unfortunately, this is not the case. From what I have read, you need to discontinue nursing 6-8 weeks prior to the treatment, and because you are pretty much a glow stick for awhile, you cannot continue to nurse as the radioactive iodine remains in your system for several months.
It may sound silly, considering everything else, that I am devastated by this. I spent all of Thursday night crying over this. I am just so sad, for my son, for myself, that there is this strong possibility that we will be weaning suddenly in the next week or so. My heart just aches, because I'm not prepared mentally or emotionally to give this up, and Jayden is very much a comfort nurser and in no way is he ready to wean. I never knew I would feel this strongly about breastfeeding, to be completely honest. I am trying to cherish each nursing session we have now, because I know in my gut that it's most likely coming to an end sooner than I had anticipated.
I have a lot to do today. I'm off work now, and tomorrow we leave for Wisconsin for 3 nights, before heading to Ishpeming, where my surgery is taking place. I'm caught in between wanting to hurry up and get this all over and done with, to wishing time would just stand still so things can remain as they are for awhile longer.
I'm still holding out hope that maybe the pathology report from the biopsy was wrong, but if I listen to my gut, I'm pretty sure the next pathology report will be a confirmation.
Monday, March 7, 2011
I'm hoping I can actually sleep tonight. Last night my mind was going in circles. I'd fall asleep and then wake up and my brain just wouldn't shut off. On top of that, I have a one year old who still nurses multiple times during the night. I know he can feel my stress. I think he can sense something is wrong, and I know I haven't been my usual self.
I kind of just want to crawl under the blankets and stay there. I'm caught between wanting this surgery day to be here and over with, and not wanting it to come period. I'm scared to death of having surgery. I'm afraid I won't wake up. I know, generally speaking, that this type of surgery is relatively safe. But I can't shake this feeling. I've had surgery twice in my life, and both times before I was put under, I had a huge panic attack. I was terrified. This was when I was 14/15 years old. I didn't have kids then and I was still so freaked out about it and thought I was going to die.
When you have kids, it's a whole different ball game. I've caught myself thinking what their lives would be like without me. It's not that I think I'm this awesome person that they couldn't live without.. it's that I don't want them to live without me... I can't explain it really. But the fact of the matter is, I'm scared to death of being put under. I know I have to do this, somehow I have to find the strength to get through it and hope to hell everything is ok afterwards.
The ENT guy all but confirmed the biopsy as cancer. He can't officially make the diagnosis of Papillary Thyroid Cancer until he looks at the nodules under the microscope, but the way he put it was that the pathologist wouldn't be so specific if he was unsure. He wouldn't have specified cells as being suspicious for papillary carcinoma if that wasn't what he saw.
It's a lot to swallow. I've felt like the wind was knocked out of me a week ago. And then I catch myself trying to downplay it- you know, like the first endocrinologist did? Oh it's just thyroid cancer, no biggie! Get your thyroid out and you're probably done with it. The key word is probably. I can't shake this feeling that the large hospital downstate may have missed this, and this may have been brewing for a long time. And while I'm hoping with every ounce in me that the biopsy was wrong, my gut tells me that it was right. I'm just hoping that it hasn't spread.
For years, I've felt that something was wrong. Only I couldn't get a doctor to find anything. They all thought I was just one panic attack away from a nervous breakdown and being committed. I really hope my gut is wrong, for once.
I'm really scared. I haven't told my daughters. I don't even know what my husband is thinking..and I'm caught with this feeling that is somewhere in between panic and like maybe I'm over reacting. It's hard to explain. I'm finding that I want to just stay home. I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to be with my family. I find it terribly amusing that now that I'm finally content and happy with my life, this has to happen.
I kind of just want to crawl under the blankets and stay there. I'm caught between wanting this surgery day to be here and over with, and not wanting it to come period. I'm scared to death of having surgery. I'm afraid I won't wake up. I know, generally speaking, that this type of surgery is relatively safe. But I can't shake this feeling. I've had surgery twice in my life, and both times before I was put under, I had a huge panic attack. I was terrified. This was when I was 14/15 years old. I didn't have kids then and I was still so freaked out about it and thought I was going to die.
When you have kids, it's a whole different ball game. I've caught myself thinking what their lives would be like without me. It's not that I think I'm this awesome person that they couldn't live without.. it's that I don't want them to live without me... I can't explain it really. But the fact of the matter is, I'm scared to death of being put under. I know I have to do this, somehow I have to find the strength to get through it and hope to hell everything is ok afterwards.
The ENT guy all but confirmed the biopsy as cancer. He can't officially make the diagnosis of Papillary Thyroid Cancer until he looks at the nodules under the microscope, but the way he put it was that the pathologist wouldn't be so specific if he was unsure. He wouldn't have specified cells as being suspicious for papillary carcinoma if that wasn't what he saw.
It's a lot to swallow. I've felt like the wind was knocked out of me a week ago. And then I catch myself trying to downplay it- you know, like the first endocrinologist did? Oh it's just thyroid cancer, no biggie! Get your thyroid out and you're probably done with it. The key word is probably. I can't shake this feeling that the large hospital downstate may have missed this, and this may have been brewing for a long time. And while I'm hoping with every ounce in me that the biopsy was wrong, my gut tells me that it was right. I'm just hoping that it hasn't spread.
For years, I've felt that something was wrong. Only I couldn't get a doctor to find anything. They all thought I was just one panic attack away from a nervous breakdown and being committed. I really hope my gut is wrong, for once.
I'm really scared. I haven't told my daughters. I don't even know what my husband is thinking..and I'm caught with this feeling that is somewhere in between panic and like maybe I'm over reacting. It's hard to explain. I'm finding that I want to just stay home. I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to be with my family. I find it terribly amusing that now that I'm finally content and happy with my life, this has to happen.
10 days and counting...
One thing that really sucks about moving 350 miles away from your family, is that when you are facing surgery, at least in my case, you are facing it alone. By "alone" I mean just with my husband and children. It's stressful. I miss my friends. I miss my parents, though my mom and brother are now living in Florida. I wish that there was at least one more adult around to help out Larry during my recovery, but I think we are just going to have to wing it..
Continuing on..
It took a few days for the full magnitude of situation of Jayden's birth to hit me...but once it did, it hit me hard. I remember, being a few days postpartum and in the shower and I got to thinking about it, how easily he could have just died, and I cried, and cried. It set my panic wheels a spinning and once again, I started a battle within myself to not let the panic and fear get the best of me. I tried to ignore it the best I could, but there were days. On top of my anxiety, my husband was having major issues with work, with one person in particular who was trying to make his life a living hell. He stuck with it as long as he could, but being that his employer was also our landlord, we needed to make some changes, and make them fast.
I was laid off when I was 32 weeks pregnant, and never called back to work. I had issues with a girl that I worked with, and for once in my professional life, I stood up to her and corrected her in an area that she was most definitely wrong in. This girl then made it her personal mission to destroy my career as a Medical Assistant, and even had my former employer convinced that I was out to get her and to sink her business and livelihood. Powerful talker, that girl. Needless to say, we were having financial difficulties and everything just kept adding up bill wise. Combine financial issues, lack of employment, just generalized unhappiness, and new drama in our neighborhood and we decided once and for all to bail. We decided to fulfill a dream that we had been discussing for years- to move up north to the Upper Peninsula. Although the circumstances for our move were less than ideal, we were convinced that we could eventually provide a better life for ourselves and our children up here than we could where we were at. The bills downstate were eating us alive, and unemployment alone couldn't cover them. There were no jobs, and the cost of living was extremely high. So we jumped.
Initially we moved to a place I like to refer to as "Prison Central". I absolutely hated it there. We lived there for 4 months and never even met our neighbor. Many people referred to our neighborhood, which was an old air force base as the "indian ghetto". The kids in the neighborhood were just unruly, to say the least. Our house was located on the first block in from the main road, which was home to several state prisons. We had the joy of listening to sirens, prison PA systems, and artillery practice? on a regular basis. We couldn't get the hell out of there fast enough.
In October, I ventured back downstate to follow up with my endocrinologist at the large hospital and to follow up with my ob/gyn group for my annual stuff. I forgot to mention right after the ectopic pregnancy, I had an abnormal pap, which lead to a colposcopy and a cervical biopsy. More prodding and poking but luckily everything on that end turned out ok... Anyhow. The endocrinologist confirmed the masses had grown, but that we would just continue to monitor and perform another ultrasound and follow up appointment in a year. This part is important. Don't forget it, ok?...
Unfortunately I ran into a little issue with my unemployment, which caused one of our rent checks to slumlord to be late. We contacted them immediately to let them know what was going on and offered to take care of the matter within two weeks, as well as cover the following month's rent at that time. Supposedly it wasn't a problem, but 3 days after Christmas, we received a 7 day notice to vacate or pay, hand delivered by the local police. All this, for rent that wasn't even a month past due! It was aggravating to say the least, but we were already looking to move again and this proved to be our "out". We found a rental home within our price range on Sugar Island. So in one day, we packed everything in our house and on to a Uhaul, and the following day we unloaded it. The house we are in now, it's amazing. I would love to buy it if it were an option. It's river front, on a dead end road. I have lovely pines in my front yard, and I have an excellent view of the outskirts of Garden River, Ontario and Squirrel Island. We have eagles that circle in front on occasion, and lots of blue jays. This place, it's a dream. It's a home. I love being here, it's so peaceful and comfortable.
Moving right along though.
I finally found a doctor up here and went to my first visit in January. It took forever to get an appointment with her because she is one of the few Osteopaths in the area, and she selects her own patients. So when I finally got to see her, I had a few issues I wanted her to look into.
1.) My voice was beginning to crack
2.) Sinus pain (chronic)
3.) severe low back pain (chronic).
So she did a once over on me, checked my vitals, and palpated my thyroid. We got to discussing my thyroid history at this time, as she pointed out my thyroid was very enlarged. I explained to her that I was just downstate a few month previous and that they said all was kosher, but the voice cracking had occurred right before they did my last biopsy in 2008, and stopped afterwards, as they had drained a lot of fluid off one of the nodules.
She was still a bit concerned, and decided to refer me to an ENT as well as ordered another ultrasound for my thyroid. She gave me a lovely adjustment for my back pain and some antibiotics for my sinus pain and inflammation and worked on getting me into an ENT.
The beginning of February, I made the three and a half hour drive to the ENT office in Marquette. This is one of the issues with living in "gods country", specialists are not as readily available, especially if you have an HMO. I read the copy of the ultrasound report that my doctor had ordered, and it said something about concern for malignancy. I didn't think much of it, however, as I had been following my previous endocrinologist's orders all along and I thought perhaps the radiologist was being extra careful, being that he or she had not seen the results of my previous scans.
The ENT doctor had all sorts of fun with me during my initial visit. He stuck a video camera up my nose and down my throat to make sure my vocal cords weren't being compressed by my thyroid and also to check for polyps, which was a concern of my new PCP. All was clear there. He checked my thyroid and could feel the masses and pretty much said a.) we can take it out, and run pathology on it and make sure it's not cancerous, and then you are done dealing with it, b.) we can do another biopsy to make sure it's still not cancerous, and then remove it. If we do it this way, I'll know if I need to take lymph nodes out while I'm in there, or c.) we can keep monitoring it, but it's not going to go away, and due to the size of the masses, I don't know how long you want to keep continuing to monitor this...
I was a bit disappointed that it sounded like surgery was in my near future, but I agreed to a second biopsy just to make sure everything was still benign. I was scheduled with the endocrinologist two weeks later. My husband, Jayden and I made the 3 1/2 hour trip alone this time, and honestly, while I was nervous about the procedure itself, I wasn't nervous about the result. As the endocrinologist was scanning my thyroid to map out the nodules before doing the fine needle aspiration, he concurred with the ENT's findings that it simply just needs to come out. He performed the biopsy, said it would be a few days for the results to come back, but that the nodules appeared to be benign.
I had to work that Friday, and when we received that call from an "unavailable" that morning, I ignored it. I figured it was either someone trying to sell something to me or a bill collector, and I didn't have time to deal with either. I went to work and figured I'd call the endocrinologist office after my shift for results. I wasn't the last bit concerned. Unfortunately, by the time I got off of work, their office was closed for the weekend.
The weekend came and went. I don't recall what we did, but I'm pretty sure it involved a lot of kids and snowmobiles, as that tends to be how our weekends go over on the Island. We always have extra kids here, usually my nephews and niece, and sometimes other family members come over and stay for the night.
Monday morning, I called the endocrinologist's office first thing, right as I was getting ready to leave for work. The nurse told me that one mass came back benign, but the other, however, was atypical. She told me there was a suspicion of malignancy, and that I needed to be referred back to the ENT and scheduled for surgery. I thanked her for the information as I choked back tears. I sat in my bedroom with the phone in my hand, shaking, as the tears rolled down my face. My husband and son were in the other room and had no clue of the information I had just received. I immediately called my place of employment and in the middle of telling the manager why I wouldn't be coming in today, i just broke down. She had no clue as to what to say to me, and I blubbered through the conversation and told her I'd call back later. I immediately called the ENT office and asked for their first available appointment, which happened to be the following day.
We ended up having to take all of the kids to this appointment, which actually worked out well. Ashia was able to watch Jayden while Kayleigh and Savannah played Barbie in the waiting room. This allowed us to go in to meet with the surgeon alone. The medical assistant printed off a copy of my biopsy report, and I read it. And it was scary. "Atypical.. some cells suspicious of papillary carcinoma".
The ENT was a bit more somber than our first meeting, but reassuring. He said "this is something to be concerned about, but not hiding in the corner in fear." He explained the procedure to me and said I'd be in the hospital overnight. I was amazingly able to hold it together during the entire visit, but inside, I was cracking. Surgery. Hospital stays. Cancer?! I'm 30! I have a one year old son and three daughters...
We ate dinner and headed on the long drive home. I was grateful for the darkness, because much of the trip I had tears rolling down my face. So many what if's. I've never been a glass half full type of girl, it's always been half empty, and I tend to focus on the worst case scenario of every situation.
Continuing on..
It took a few days for the full magnitude of situation of Jayden's birth to hit me...but once it did, it hit me hard. I remember, being a few days postpartum and in the shower and I got to thinking about it, how easily he could have just died, and I cried, and cried. It set my panic wheels a spinning and once again, I started a battle within myself to not let the panic and fear get the best of me. I tried to ignore it the best I could, but there were days. On top of my anxiety, my husband was having major issues with work, with one person in particular who was trying to make his life a living hell. He stuck with it as long as he could, but being that his employer was also our landlord, we needed to make some changes, and make them fast.
I was laid off when I was 32 weeks pregnant, and never called back to work. I had issues with a girl that I worked with, and for once in my professional life, I stood up to her and corrected her in an area that she was most definitely wrong in. This girl then made it her personal mission to destroy my career as a Medical Assistant, and even had my former employer convinced that I was out to get her and to sink her business and livelihood. Powerful talker, that girl. Needless to say, we were having financial difficulties and everything just kept adding up bill wise. Combine financial issues, lack of employment, just generalized unhappiness, and new drama in our neighborhood and we decided once and for all to bail. We decided to fulfill a dream that we had been discussing for years- to move up north to the Upper Peninsula. Although the circumstances for our move were less than ideal, we were convinced that we could eventually provide a better life for ourselves and our children up here than we could where we were at. The bills downstate were eating us alive, and unemployment alone couldn't cover them. There were no jobs, and the cost of living was extremely high. So we jumped.
Initially we moved to a place I like to refer to as "Prison Central". I absolutely hated it there. We lived there for 4 months and never even met our neighbor. Many people referred to our neighborhood, which was an old air force base as the "indian ghetto". The kids in the neighborhood were just unruly, to say the least. Our house was located on the first block in from the main road, which was home to several state prisons. We had the joy of listening to sirens, prison PA systems, and artillery practice? on a regular basis. We couldn't get the hell out of there fast enough.
In October, I ventured back downstate to follow up with my endocrinologist at the large hospital and to follow up with my ob/gyn group for my annual stuff. I forgot to mention right after the ectopic pregnancy, I had an abnormal pap, which lead to a colposcopy and a cervical biopsy. More prodding and poking but luckily everything on that end turned out ok... Anyhow. The endocrinologist confirmed the masses had grown, but that we would just continue to monitor and perform another ultrasound and follow up appointment in a year. This part is important. Don't forget it, ok?...
Unfortunately I ran into a little issue with my unemployment, which caused one of our rent checks to slumlord to be late. We contacted them immediately to let them know what was going on and offered to take care of the matter within two weeks, as well as cover the following month's rent at that time. Supposedly it wasn't a problem, but 3 days after Christmas, we received a 7 day notice to vacate or pay, hand delivered by the local police. All this, for rent that wasn't even a month past due! It was aggravating to say the least, but we were already looking to move again and this proved to be our "out". We found a rental home within our price range on Sugar Island. So in one day, we packed everything in our house and on to a Uhaul, and the following day we unloaded it. The house we are in now, it's amazing. I would love to buy it if it were an option. It's river front, on a dead end road. I have lovely pines in my front yard, and I have an excellent view of the outskirts of Garden River, Ontario and Squirrel Island. We have eagles that circle in front on occasion, and lots of blue jays. This place, it's a dream. It's a home. I love being here, it's so peaceful and comfortable.
Moving right along though.
I finally found a doctor up here and went to my first visit in January. It took forever to get an appointment with her because she is one of the few Osteopaths in the area, and she selects her own patients. So when I finally got to see her, I had a few issues I wanted her to look into.
1.) My voice was beginning to crack
2.) Sinus pain (chronic)
3.) severe low back pain (chronic).
So she did a once over on me, checked my vitals, and palpated my thyroid. We got to discussing my thyroid history at this time, as she pointed out my thyroid was very enlarged. I explained to her that I was just downstate a few month previous and that they said all was kosher, but the voice cracking had occurred right before they did my last biopsy in 2008, and stopped afterwards, as they had drained a lot of fluid off one of the nodules.
She was still a bit concerned, and decided to refer me to an ENT as well as ordered another ultrasound for my thyroid. She gave me a lovely adjustment for my back pain and some antibiotics for my sinus pain and inflammation and worked on getting me into an ENT.
The beginning of February, I made the three and a half hour drive to the ENT office in Marquette. This is one of the issues with living in "gods country", specialists are not as readily available, especially if you have an HMO. I read the copy of the ultrasound report that my doctor had ordered, and it said something about concern for malignancy. I didn't think much of it, however, as I had been following my previous endocrinologist's orders all along and I thought perhaps the radiologist was being extra careful, being that he or she had not seen the results of my previous scans.
The ENT doctor had all sorts of fun with me during my initial visit. He stuck a video camera up my nose and down my throat to make sure my vocal cords weren't being compressed by my thyroid and also to check for polyps, which was a concern of my new PCP. All was clear there. He checked my thyroid and could feel the masses and pretty much said a.) we can take it out, and run pathology on it and make sure it's not cancerous, and then you are done dealing with it, b.) we can do another biopsy to make sure it's still not cancerous, and then remove it. If we do it this way, I'll know if I need to take lymph nodes out while I'm in there, or c.) we can keep monitoring it, but it's not going to go away, and due to the size of the masses, I don't know how long you want to keep continuing to monitor this...
I was a bit disappointed that it sounded like surgery was in my near future, but I agreed to a second biopsy just to make sure everything was still benign. I was scheduled with the endocrinologist two weeks later. My husband, Jayden and I made the 3 1/2 hour trip alone this time, and honestly, while I was nervous about the procedure itself, I wasn't nervous about the result. As the endocrinologist was scanning my thyroid to map out the nodules before doing the fine needle aspiration, he concurred with the ENT's findings that it simply just needs to come out. He performed the biopsy, said it would be a few days for the results to come back, but that the nodules appeared to be benign.
I had to work that Friday, and when we received that call from an "unavailable" that morning, I ignored it. I figured it was either someone trying to sell something to me or a bill collector, and I didn't have time to deal with either. I went to work and figured I'd call the endocrinologist office after my shift for results. I wasn't the last bit concerned. Unfortunately, by the time I got off of work, their office was closed for the weekend.
The weekend came and went. I don't recall what we did, but I'm pretty sure it involved a lot of kids and snowmobiles, as that tends to be how our weekends go over on the Island. We always have extra kids here, usually my nephews and niece, and sometimes other family members come over and stay for the night.
Monday morning, I called the endocrinologist's office first thing, right as I was getting ready to leave for work. The nurse told me that one mass came back benign, but the other, however, was atypical. She told me there was a suspicion of malignancy, and that I needed to be referred back to the ENT and scheduled for surgery. I thanked her for the information as I choked back tears. I sat in my bedroom with the phone in my hand, shaking, as the tears rolled down my face. My husband and son were in the other room and had no clue of the information I had just received. I immediately called my place of employment and in the middle of telling the manager why I wouldn't be coming in today, i just broke down. She had no clue as to what to say to me, and I blubbered through the conversation and told her I'd call back later. I immediately called the ENT office and asked for their first available appointment, which happened to be the following day.
We ended up having to take all of the kids to this appointment, which actually worked out well. Ashia was able to watch Jayden while Kayleigh and Savannah played Barbie in the waiting room. This allowed us to go in to meet with the surgeon alone. The medical assistant printed off a copy of my biopsy report, and I read it. And it was scary. "Atypical.. some cells suspicious of papillary carcinoma".
The ENT was a bit more somber than our first meeting, but reassuring. He said "this is something to be concerned about, but not hiding in the corner in fear." He explained the procedure to me and said I'd be in the hospital overnight. I was amazingly able to hold it together during the entire visit, but inside, I was cracking. Surgery. Hospital stays. Cancer?! I'm 30! I have a one year old son and three daughters...
We ate dinner and headed on the long drive home. I was grateful for the darkness, because much of the trip I had tears rolling down my face. So many what if's. I've never been a glass half full type of girl, it's always been half empty, and I tend to focus on the worst case scenario of every situation.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
continuing my rambling
Nursing a 12 month old is an interesting ordeal. I've never breastfed this long, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. Let's just say that Jayden is not at all shy about what he wants or when he wants it. He likes to pull my shirt up regardless of who is around. I'm so concerned about my upcoming surgery and how he is going to react to us being separated for an entire day (or more) and night. I'm even more-so concerned by the possible procedure I may have to have later on, which according to my endocrinologist is going to end my nursing days and put me in isolation. I'm very upset by this...
But let's continue.
My pregnancy was uneventful until around 14 weeks when I started waking up with the worst cotton mouth ever in the middle of the night. I was also experiencing bouts of hypoglycemia during the day at work and I'd have to stop what I was doing and immediately run for food, juice or what have you to bring my sugar back to normal range. It was dipping down to around 50 on a daily basis, although I was eating pretty regularly. I knew that these were signs of Gestational Diabetes, so when I went to my next appointment, labs were done and I failed miserably. I begun a special low carb diet and had to monitor my blood sugar five times a day. This worked well until about two weeks later, when my body became more insulin resistant and the foods that had previously kept my sugar levels normal the two weeks previous were causing my blood sugar to spike 55 points above where it was supposed to be. At that time, I was moved from the midwife practice to the high risk OB/Gyn clinic and placed on Insulin twice a day for the remainder of my pregnancy. The first insulin dosage they gave me was way too high, and my sugar dipped dangerously low one day while I was driving. It was really scary and I almost passed out. Thank god for McDonald's coke and chocolate chip cookies to boost your blood sugar with a quickness..
I wasn't planning on finding out the sex of the baby. I was perfectly content with not knowing and being surprised. My husband, however, was not. So we argued. and argued. and argued even up until the ultrasound was being performed as to whether or not we should "shake the present" and find out what's inside. I finally caved. I caved when she asked if we wanted to know the sex, because as she was scanning and I was looking, I thought I saw something a little unusual and I wanted to confirm if my suspicions were right. And they were. On the screen was a big set of feet and boy parts. BOY PARTS. I had a BOY growing in my womb. I didn't think it was possible for my husband and I to create a boy after all these girls.. but we finally did. I was absolutely elated. I couldn't wait to meet my son. All the while though, it sort of seemed like the pregnancy wasn't real. I knew it was real because I was growing and he was growing, and I saw images of him growing inside of me, but because of events that I hadn't really mentally processed a few months earlier, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wanted to hold my son, but I was having a hard time accepting that this thing growing inside of me was real. It's hard to grasp these thoughts now, looking back, but I almost felt like my body was setting me up for a cruel trick, and that the end result wasn't going to be my son. I'm sure by now, you all think I'm bat shit nuts. It's ok, sometimes I wonder myself...
Once the Gestational Diabetes was diagnosed, the number of appointments I had to attend increased dramatically. There was testing and more testing and endocrinologist appointments and high risk OB/GYN appointments and nutritionist appointments and non stress test appointments. My god it was non stop, for months. And part of me was worried about the baby I was carrying, while another part of me was in denial that I was carrying a baby. It was really sort of weird and scary at the same time. All of my ultrasounds indicated that the boy I was carrying was going to be very large, and there was some concern about his size. In fact around 36 weeks, they estimated his weight just shy of 8 pounds. There was discussion of scheduling a c-section which I vetoed, and then the insistence of inducing at 39 weeks because of the diabetes, which I agreed to, but felt that if history repeated itself, I wouldn't have to wait that long anyhow. At the end of the appointment the nutritionist came in and lectured me on my weight gain for the pregnancy. They had wanted me to gain 15-20 lbs, and at 38 weeks, I was only at 12.2 lbs. It wasn't like I wasn't eating.. I had a craving for meat like I've never experienced in my life. I probably consumed two whole cows on my own during those nine months.. but she felt it appropriate to lecture me and encouraged me to gain another 3 pounds before my induction. Makes no sense to me, either. I know...
So I ran to the bathroom to try to clean myself up a bit, all while shaking and dialing the hospital. And by the way, if you've never had a baby, cleaning yourself up after your water breaks, is pretty pointless. Because as soon as you think you're in the clear, your body reproduces more amniotic fluid and the gushing continues. All in all it was pretty gross. But I had to somehow regain composure and get myself together and get to the hospital. I should mention here that my second born daughter arrived fast and furious, and it was snowing like hell outside, the worst snow storm of the season. So I had to step back for a minute and time my contractions and figure out basically if I thought we'd make it to the hospital in time with all this snow or if we should stay put. It was an interesting few moment and my husband thought I was in the bathroom putting on make up and started yelling at me to hurry the hell up, because he was thinking about not wanting to deliver his son on the side of the highway.
Things progressed quickly and my niece met us at the hospital. Eventually the labor excitement/high subsided and the worst back labor ever began. After a lot of pressure from the anesthesiologist, I caved and got an epidural since I was at high risk for a c-section. Sweet jesus that epidural insertion was by far the worst pain I've ever experienced in my back. So I'm sobbing and crying and this girl trying to insert this catheter into my back thinks I'm over reacting and just keeps going and I really think somewhere along the line she screwed up, but either way, sweet relief was met within minutes.
And shortly thereafter, my sons heart rate started to dip after contractions. I noticed it immediately and was told it was normal, because it wasn't dipping super low. I progressed quickly and soon thereafter it was time to start pushing. After that, everything sort of gets blurry. His heart rate dropped even more with each push and contraction, I was rolled to one side, then the other, there was an oxygen mask, a lot of confusion and within minutes my iv bag was thrown into my lap and I was being wheeled to the O.R. I have never been so scared in my entire life.
I recognized immediately the two High Risk OB/Gyns in the O.R. One had delivered my best friends baby back in August by emergency C-Section. The other was the first high risk OB/GYN I had seen since being removed from the midwife group. There were tons of people in the O.R. and machines, and beeping and face masks and no one would tell me what the hell was going on, but I already knew. I had to move my body from the gurney to the OR table, which was incredibly difficult considering I was numb from the waist down and I was strapped down and hooked up to the EKG and I couldn't find my husband. I was in a room full of mostly strangers and I was scared to death and I just remember asking over and over again if my baby was ok, please get him out now, please just tell me if he's ok. I had another contraction and I pushed as hard as I can all while the two docs on the south end pulled as hard as they could and my son was born. Only I didn't realize he was born. I even heard a baby crying across the room but I didn't immediately realize that was *my son*. I thought he was someone elses baby in another room. I finally started to regain composure and saw my husband and saw this screaming baby on the scale and realized it was my son, and he was alive, and ok, and screaming, and I just put my hand to my head and tried to breathe. My husband kept telling the nurse he didn't want to hold him first, that he wanted me to and I kept telling him to just grab the baby and I remember I was just shaking so hard. It turns out, my sons cord was being compressed, and he had it wrapped over his shoulder and under his armpit like a purse, and this was causing his heart rate to drop during the delivery. I feel very fortunate that the nurses acted on this almost immediately, and the end result turned out ok, albeit Jayden was born with critically low blood sugar, around 24. I'll have to post a picture later, of us immediately after his birth. I'm pale white and my hand is on my head, and Jayden is purple. It was both the scariest day of my life and one of the most joyous..
But let's continue.
My pregnancy was uneventful until around 14 weeks when I started waking up with the worst cotton mouth ever in the middle of the night. I was also experiencing bouts of hypoglycemia during the day at work and I'd have to stop what I was doing and immediately run for food, juice or what have you to bring my sugar back to normal range. It was dipping down to around 50 on a daily basis, although I was eating pretty regularly. I knew that these were signs of Gestational Diabetes, so when I went to my next appointment, labs were done and I failed miserably. I begun a special low carb diet and had to monitor my blood sugar five times a day. This worked well until about two weeks later, when my body became more insulin resistant and the foods that had previously kept my sugar levels normal the two weeks previous were causing my blood sugar to spike 55 points above where it was supposed to be. At that time, I was moved from the midwife practice to the high risk OB/Gyn clinic and placed on Insulin twice a day for the remainder of my pregnancy. The first insulin dosage they gave me was way too high, and my sugar dipped dangerously low one day while I was driving. It was really scary and I almost passed out. Thank god for McDonald's coke and chocolate chip cookies to boost your blood sugar with a quickness..
I wasn't planning on finding out the sex of the baby. I was perfectly content with not knowing and being surprised. My husband, however, was not. So we argued. and argued. and argued even up until the ultrasound was being performed as to whether or not we should "shake the present" and find out what's inside. I finally caved. I caved when she asked if we wanted to know the sex, because as she was scanning and I was looking, I thought I saw something a little unusual and I wanted to confirm if my suspicions were right. And they were. On the screen was a big set of feet and boy parts. BOY PARTS. I had a BOY growing in my womb. I didn't think it was possible for my husband and I to create a boy after all these girls.. but we finally did. I was absolutely elated. I couldn't wait to meet my son. All the while though, it sort of seemed like the pregnancy wasn't real. I knew it was real because I was growing and he was growing, and I saw images of him growing inside of me, but because of events that I hadn't really mentally processed a few months earlier, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wanted to hold my son, but I was having a hard time accepting that this thing growing inside of me was real. It's hard to grasp these thoughts now, looking back, but I almost felt like my body was setting me up for a cruel trick, and that the end result wasn't going to be my son. I'm sure by now, you all think I'm bat shit nuts. It's ok, sometimes I wonder myself...
Once the Gestational Diabetes was diagnosed, the number of appointments I had to attend increased dramatically. There was testing and more testing and endocrinologist appointments and high risk OB/GYN appointments and nutritionist appointments and non stress test appointments. My god it was non stop, for months. And part of me was worried about the baby I was carrying, while another part of me was in denial that I was carrying a baby. It was really sort of weird and scary at the same time. All of my ultrasounds indicated that the boy I was carrying was going to be very large, and there was some concern about his size. In fact around 36 weeks, they estimated his weight just shy of 8 pounds. There was discussion of scheduling a c-section which I vetoed, and then the insistence of inducing at 39 weeks because of the diabetes, which I agreed to, but felt that if history repeated itself, I wouldn't have to wait that long anyhow. At the end of the appointment the nutritionist came in and lectured me on my weight gain for the pregnancy. They had wanted me to gain 15-20 lbs, and at 38 weeks, I was only at 12.2 lbs. It wasn't like I wasn't eating.. I had a craving for meat like I've never experienced in my life. I probably consumed two whole cows on my own during those nine months.. but she felt it appropriate to lecture me and encouraged me to gain another 3 pounds before my induction. Makes no sense to me, either. I know...
So I ran to the bathroom to try to clean myself up a bit, all while shaking and dialing the hospital. And by the way, if you've never had a baby, cleaning yourself up after your water breaks, is pretty pointless. Because as soon as you think you're in the clear, your body reproduces more amniotic fluid and the gushing continues. All in all it was pretty gross. But I had to somehow regain composure and get myself together and get to the hospital. I should mention here that my second born daughter arrived fast and furious, and it was snowing like hell outside, the worst snow storm of the season. So I had to step back for a minute and time my contractions and figure out basically if I thought we'd make it to the hospital in time with all this snow or if we should stay put. It was an interesting few moment and my husband thought I was in the bathroom putting on make up and started yelling at me to hurry the hell up, because he was thinking about not wanting to deliver his son on the side of the highway.
Things progressed quickly and my niece met us at the hospital. Eventually the labor excitement/high subsided and the worst back labor ever began. After a lot of pressure from the anesthesiologist, I caved and got an epidural since I was at high risk for a c-section. Sweet jesus that epidural insertion was by far the worst pain I've ever experienced in my back. So I'm sobbing and crying and this girl trying to insert this catheter into my back thinks I'm over reacting and just keeps going and I really think somewhere along the line she screwed up, but either way, sweet relief was met within minutes.
And shortly thereafter, my sons heart rate started to dip after contractions. I noticed it immediately and was told it was normal, because it wasn't dipping super low. I progressed quickly and soon thereafter it was time to start pushing. After that, everything sort of gets blurry. His heart rate dropped even more with each push and contraction, I was rolled to one side, then the other, there was an oxygen mask, a lot of confusion and within minutes my iv bag was thrown into my lap and I was being wheeled to the O.R. I have never been so scared in my entire life.
I recognized immediately the two High Risk OB/Gyns in the O.R. One had delivered my best friends baby back in August by emergency C-Section. The other was the first high risk OB/GYN I had seen since being removed from the midwife group. There were tons of people in the O.R. and machines, and beeping and face masks and no one would tell me what the hell was going on, but I already knew. I had to move my body from the gurney to the OR table, which was incredibly difficult considering I was numb from the waist down and I was strapped down and hooked up to the EKG and I couldn't find my husband. I was in a room full of mostly strangers and I was scared to death and I just remember asking over and over again if my baby was ok, please get him out now, please just tell me if he's ok. I had another contraction and I pushed as hard as I can all while the two docs on the south end pulled as hard as they could and my son was born. Only I didn't realize he was born. I even heard a baby crying across the room but I didn't immediately realize that was *my son*. I thought he was someone elses baby in another room. I finally started to regain composure and saw my husband and saw this screaming baby on the scale and realized it was my son, and he was alive, and ok, and screaming, and I just put my hand to my head and tried to breathe. My husband kept telling the nurse he didn't want to hold him first, that he wanted me to and I kept telling him to just grab the baby and I remember I was just shaking so hard. It turns out, my sons cord was being compressed, and he had it wrapped over his shoulder and under his armpit like a purse, and this was causing his heart rate to drop during the delivery. I feel very fortunate that the nurses acted on this almost immediately, and the end result turned out ok, albeit Jayden was born with critically low blood sugar, around 24. I'll have to post a picture later, of us immediately after his birth. I'm pale white and my hand is on my head, and Jayden is purple. It was both the scariest day of my life and one of the most joyous..
Why I'm here (me in the raw)
I used to blog, almost religiously for years. I found it to be a wonderful outlet to deal with life's stresses. Somehow, and I'm not really sure how or why, I fell off the bandwagon. I think I'll blame it on MySpace..and then I'll pass the blame on to Facebook. It seems logical to me, anyhow.
I'm not blogging this time because of marital problems or difficult children, though that's not to say these issues no longer exist, they just aren't currently the main issue in my life. Right now, I'm in a panic. But I think perhaps before I explain more of "why", I need to step back a few years, to fill in some gaps for my former readers.
In 2006, I started having severe panic attacks. They sort of came on out of the blue. I literally thought I was dying. I remember one time, it was around Christmas, and I had a house full of people. I was sitting on the couch and the house was loud, I'm sure we were drinking, it was the holidays after all. All I know is everything went from loud and clear to blurred and shaky and when I tried to stand up, my heart felt like it was beating a million miles per hour, and I felt like I was going to black out, or fall, or perhaps even die. I wasn't drunk. I'm sure I had indulged in a few adult beverages, but by no means was I drunk. It was one of the scariest moments of my life up until that point.
After that landmark night, they just kept coming (the panic attacks). They would wake me from a dead sleep. I couldn't cope with them, I couldn't be around people, or my kids. I would run into my bedroom and scream and cry, because I was so terrified I was dying. I had absolutely no control of my thoughts or my fears, there was no rationality.
There were multiple doctors appointments and I sincerely thought I was losing my mind and was going to have to be committed. My doctor, after numerous appointments for chest pains, palpitations, headaches, and generalized fear/anxiety, finally gave me a diagnosis and pulled me out of work for 12 weeks. "Panic Disorder".
I was having marital issues and work issues and behavioral issues with one of my kids and it would seem that the stress got the best of me. This is how my conscience decided to deal with it all.
After 6 months, multiple prescriptions for sedatives and SSRI's that caused horrid side effects, agoraphobia, loss of career and financial ruin, they finally tapered off.
Let's fast forward a little bit, to early 2008. Sure there is more to the story between 2007 and 2008, but it's sort of irrelevant to what is currently causing my mind to race.
After my bout with Panic Disorder, I felt like an absolute nut case. I felt like every time I went to the doctor for something, that it (to the medical staff and physician) seemed irrelevant and that I was wasting their time. It didn't seem to matter what my actual complaint was, every time I left with a diagnosis of panic disorder or generalized anxiety disorder. They never could find any reason for the chest pains, palpitations or anything. I was still having panic attacks, but I learned how to gain some control over them, but at some point along the route in gaining control over the attacks themselves, I became a hypochondriac and tried to find a reason for them. After all, I was reasonably healthy, mostly happy, and I had my family. So I couldn't figure out why this was happening to me.
So my distrust of doctors kept me out of the office for a little bit, because I felt like they thought I was nuts and wasting their time. I should have just switched doctors at that point, but I really liked my doctor, or rather, I trusted her.
At some point, I realized, even though I'd been to the doctors office quite a bit over a year, I hadn't actually had a physical in quite some time. So I scheduled one. And for the first time I can recall, she palpated my thyroid. She felt that it was enlarged, so she ordered an ultrasound. I had some blood work done, everything was normal in that respect. The ultrasound, however, was not. I had multiple nodules, one which was quite large on one side and a smaller one on the other side. This lead to a referral to an endocrinologist at a large hospital. It took quite a bit of time to get into this endocrinologist, I want to say several weeks, and by now, I'm freaking out that I'm dying, I have cancer, so forth. I remember going to the endocrinologist appointment, my dad went with me, because at the time, I was having marital problems. I was afraid to go alone, however. I wasn't sure what this guy was going to tell me and I needed someone there with me. He reviewed the ultrasound and decided it would be best to biopsy my thyroid. And as we're leaving the room he said something to the effect of "well if it is cancer, it's the cancer you want to get." I was very upset by those words, but I didn't say anything, and just walked to the checkout area with my dad to schedule my biopsy. One of the issues of having services done at a large hospital is that it takes awhile to get anything done, because so many other people are doing the same exact thing. I had to wait about 3 weeks or so for my biopsy appointment.
My mom, husband and oldest daughter went with me. I was scared to death. I knew how the procedure worked, and it wasn't the procedure itself that worried me, it was the outcome. The procedure itself wasn't a lot of fun, but it wasn't awful, either (until the medical assistant tried to cover my eyes..which I wasn't having..). I had to wait several days for the results. I drove myself absolutely crazy waiting for those results, I was so afraid that I had cancer and I didn't know how I would be able to cope with that on top of everything else that was currently going on in my life.
After the day that the endocrinologist promised to call back with my results came and went, I became more panicked. I was one of those obnoxious callers to the doctors office who wouldn't settle for a call back. After all, my life was sort of at a stand still, and I just wanted to be able to breathe again. I finally got a hold of him, and his words were something like magic. Benign. We will just continue to monitor every 6 months with ultrasound, and one year in the office.
So I went on with my life. My marriage all but collapsed after those results and there was an ugly separation and it resulted in my filing for divorce. There was a new job, and I was just trying to pick up the pieces of my life somehow. I'm thankful that I had my mom around to help me during this time. Her and I haven't always had the best relationship, but when I needed her the most, she was there. At some point during all of this, life became very dark, and grey, and I was having trouble completing even the most basic tasks- like laundry, cooking dinner for my kids. The days just blended together and time slowly passed, and I wasn't accomplishing much. A friend of mine stepped in and sort of threatened to take me kicking and screaming for help. I know I was a pretty difficult person to deal with at that time, but she was right, I needed help and somehow I finally gave in and got it.
When I first saw the therapist, I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression. Although I wasn't crying much, I wasn't functioning at all. I wasn't sleeping, and she told me she was amazed that I wasn't hospitalized at this point. I told her of my Panic Disorder bout and my stubbornness to take medication. We made a deal that if I wasn't feeling better in a month, after weekly appointments for CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), then I would see the Psychiatrist and discuss medication.
Four weeks and four appointments later, and I was still having dinner at my moms, still in a funk, still having panic attacks and hardly able to pull myself out of bed in the morning. It's not a moment in my life that I am proud of, to say the least. At least I showered on a regular basis, but I wasn't really there. I was just a shell.
I did some research on different medications and I came prepared to my psychiatrist appointment. He gave me exactly what I wanted, but I was too afraid to take it. I remember very clearly arguing with my friend at Walgreens over getting the prescription filled and then over actually taking it. I'm pretty sure she may have called me an idiot in nicer words. I started taking the pills the next day, at work. I figured, hey I work in a Doctor's office, if I'm going to have some crazy allergic reaction or side effect, better it be here than at home! So I took it, and I sort of felt like a space cadet for the first few days. Little by little, with the help of these magical pills, I started gaining control of my life again.
I was able to focus again and take care of my kids again and do basic household chores again. Somehow I neglected paying my rent for several months. I couldn't tell you to this day where that money went, but I am grateful that we had an understanding landlord who didn't throw the girls and I out on our asses. With my new found mental clarity, I realized my soon-to-be ex husband was in a lot of trouble, and I realized how upset my children were without him in their lives. Things were a bit crazy between him and I, and I had a lawyer, and a restraining order and it was just downright ugly and unnecessary. I have a lot of regrets from that time, and I can't take any of it back. I thought I was doing what was best, but I was refusing to accept any responsibility for anything that had occurred.
Moving forward. After several months of not seeing their dad, he came and visited. I let him spend the night with the girls, and there was just so much pain between us. The divorce was due to be finalized in about three weeks. I'm still not sure to this day what caused the change of heart. But I'm glad it happened. He moved home, I stopped communicating with my lawyer and missed our court date, we worked out some issues, we made some life changes, and things were good.
A month later, we went to one of the best concerts I've ever been to, City and Colour. Sometime right around then, I got pregnant. A few weeks later, we found out I was expecting, and I was shocked, excited, shocked, amazed, and shocked. I excitedly made doctors appointments and started looking at baby names and watching all those birthing shows on Discovery Health and TLC. But I just couldn't shake this feeling from my gut that something was wrong. A week or so after we found out, I started experiencing all the classic symptoms of a miscarriage. I remember going to the midwife, the same one who delivered my second child, and she seemed so cold and callous. I'd never had a miscarriage before, and I was scared and upset and didn't know what to do. She didn't check me or anything, just asked me to describe what was occurring with my body, gave me a specimen jar and a brown paper bag with instructions to "collect" any tissue, and sent me home with some motrin, a lot of questions, a lab slip, and ultrasound appointment and a broken heart.
I had to get my HcG levels monitored so they could determine if the miscarriage was "complete". Since no actual tissue had passed, there was concern. My HcG levels were around 50 and since I was supposed to be around 6 or 7 weeks along, the OB resident following my case explained to me that in a normal, healthy pregnancy, my HcG level should be a lot higher than that. I had my ultrasound, which confirmed there was nothing in my uterus. A second set of HcG levels were taken, and they weren't dropping, just slowly increasing. The OB resident at that time began to expect an ectopic pregnancy. Another ultrasound was done, and they still couldn't find anything anywhere in my pelvis. At this point I was officially diagnosed as having an ectopic pregnancy and told to go to the emergency room to meet with the on-call OB resident for an injection of Methotrexate. The nurses came in with full chemo garb on, injected me, and left. I went home and continued to have my HcG levels monitored twice a week. Two weeks later, when they still hadn't dropped as quickly as the doctors anticipated, I was told I'd need a second Methotrexate injection. So off I went back to the emergency room, and had labs drawn. After my lab results came back, I was told that the first injection had caused my liver enzymes to elevate, and that they weren't comfortable doing a second injection at this time and was sent home to wait and see. I told the doctors anything further would have to wait, because I was going to Las Vegas in two weeks. The whole process of resolving the ectopic pregnancy took several weeks, about 6 total from the time I knew I had lost the baby until my HcG levels were back to zero. Because of the Methotrexate, I was told I had to wait 3 months to get pregnant again. I dealt with this whole experience without the help of family, because I was afraid of their reaction. I never told any of them, what was going on (with the exception of course of my husband). I'm glad I was still taking my magical SNRI pills too, as it allowed me to ride out the whole experience in a numbed state of mind, instead of being devastated as I would have been if I wasn't being overloaded with seratonin and norepinephrine.
Wouldn't you know though, 3 months later, I conceived. I immediately called the OB clinic and asked to have labs drawn. I didn't want to get my hopes up. They drew labs 4 times over two weeks. My HcG was increasing as it was supposed to and I was hardly able to contain my excitement. Things were pretty uneventful for awhile...
I'm not blogging this time because of marital problems or difficult children, though that's not to say these issues no longer exist, they just aren't currently the main issue in my life. Right now, I'm in a panic. But I think perhaps before I explain more of "why", I need to step back a few years, to fill in some gaps for my former readers.
In 2006, I started having severe panic attacks. They sort of came on out of the blue. I literally thought I was dying. I remember one time, it was around Christmas, and I had a house full of people. I was sitting on the couch and the house was loud, I'm sure we were drinking, it was the holidays after all. All I know is everything went from loud and clear to blurred and shaky and when I tried to stand up, my heart felt like it was beating a million miles per hour, and I felt like I was going to black out, or fall, or perhaps even die. I wasn't drunk. I'm sure I had indulged in a few adult beverages, but by no means was I drunk. It was one of the scariest moments of my life up until that point.
After that landmark night, they just kept coming (the panic attacks). They would wake me from a dead sleep. I couldn't cope with them, I couldn't be around people, or my kids. I would run into my bedroom and scream and cry, because I was so terrified I was dying. I had absolutely no control of my thoughts or my fears, there was no rationality.
There were multiple doctors appointments and I sincerely thought I was losing my mind and was going to have to be committed. My doctor, after numerous appointments for chest pains, palpitations, headaches, and generalized fear/anxiety, finally gave me a diagnosis and pulled me out of work for 12 weeks. "Panic Disorder".
I was having marital issues and work issues and behavioral issues with one of my kids and it would seem that the stress got the best of me. This is how my conscience decided to deal with it all.
After 6 months, multiple prescriptions for sedatives and SSRI's that caused horrid side effects, agoraphobia, loss of career and financial ruin, they finally tapered off.
Let's fast forward a little bit, to early 2008. Sure there is more to the story between 2007 and 2008, but it's sort of irrelevant to what is currently causing my mind to race.
After my bout with Panic Disorder, I felt like an absolute nut case. I felt like every time I went to the doctor for something, that it (to the medical staff and physician) seemed irrelevant and that I was wasting their time. It didn't seem to matter what my actual complaint was, every time I left with a diagnosis of panic disorder or generalized anxiety disorder. They never could find any reason for the chest pains, palpitations or anything. I was still having panic attacks, but I learned how to gain some control over them, but at some point along the route in gaining control over the attacks themselves, I became a hypochondriac and tried to find a reason for them. After all, I was reasonably healthy, mostly happy, and I had my family. So I couldn't figure out why this was happening to me.
So my distrust of doctors kept me out of the office for a little bit, because I felt like they thought I was nuts and wasting their time. I should have just switched doctors at that point, but I really liked my doctor, or rather, I trusted her.
At some point, I realized, even though I'd been to the doctors office quite a bit over a year, I hadn't actually had a physical in quite some time. So I scheduled one. And for the first time I can recall, she palpated my thyroid. She felt that it was enlarged, so she ordered an ultrasound. I had some blood work done, everything was normal in that respect. The ultrasound, however, was not. I had multiple nodules, one which was quite large on one side and a smaller one on the other side. This lead to a referral to an endocrinologist at a large hospital. It took quite a bit of time to get into this endocrinologist, I want to say several weeks, and by now, I'm freaking out that I'm dying, I have cancer, so forth. I remember going to the endocrinologist appointment, my dad went with me, because at the time, I was having marital problems. I was afraid to go alone, however. I wasn't sure what this guy was going to tell me and I needed someone there with me. He reviewed the ultrasound and decided it would be best to biopsy my thyroid. And as we're leaving the room he said something to the effect of "well if it is cancer, it's the cancer you want to get." I was very upset by those words, but I didn't say anything, and just walked to the checkout area with my dad to schedule my biopsy. One of the issues of having services done at a large hospital is that it takes awhile to get anything done, because so many other people are doing the same exact thing. I had to wait about 3 weeks or so for my biopsy appointment.
My mom, husband and oldest daughter went with me. I was scared to death. I knew how the procedure worked, and it wasn't the procedure itself that worried me, it was the outcome. The procedure itself wasn't a lot of fun, but it wasn't awful, either (until the medical assistant tried to cover my eyes..which I wasn't having..). I had to wait several days for the results. I drove myself absolutely crazy waiting for those results, I was so afraid that I had cancer and I didn't know how I would be able to cope with that on top of everything else that was currently going on in my life.
After the day that the endocrinologist promised to call back with my results came and went, I became more panicked. I was one of those obnoxious callers to the doctors office who wouldn't settle for a call back. After all, my life was sort of at a stand still, and I just wanted to be able to breathe again. I finally got a hold of him, and his words were something like magic. Benign. We will just continue to monitor every 6 months with ultrasound, and one year in the office.
So I went on with my life. My marriage all but collapsed after those results and there was an ugly separation and it resulted in my filing for divorce. There was a new job, and I was just trying to pick up the pieces of my life somehow. I'm thankful that I had my mom around to help me during this time. Her and I haven't always had the best relationship, but when I needed her the most, she was there. At some point during all of this, life became very dark, and grey, and I was having trouble completing even the most basic tasks- like laundry, cooking dinner for my kids. The days just blended together and time slowly passed, and I wasn't accomplishing much. A friend of mine stepped in and sort of threatened to take me kicking and screaming for help. I know I was a pretty difficult person to deal with at that time, but she was right, I needed help and somehow I finally gave in and got it.
When I first saw the therapist, I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression. Although I wasn't crying much, I wasn't functioning at all. I wasn't sleeping, and she told me she was amazed that I wasn't hospitalized at this point. I told her of my Panic Disorder bout and my stubbornness to take medication. We made a deal that if I wasn't feeling better in a month, after weekly appointments for CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), then I would see the Psychiatrist and discuss medication.
Four weeks and four appointments later, and I was still having dinner at my moms, still in a funk, still having panic attacks and hardly able to pull myself out of bed in the morning. It's not a moment in my life that I am proud of, to say the least. At least I showered on a regular basis, but I wasn't really there. I was just a shell.
I did some research on different medications and I came prepared to my psychiatrist appointment. He gave me exactly what I wanted, but I was too afraid to take it. I remember very clearly arguing with my friend at Walgreens over getting the prescription filled and then over actually taking it. I'm pretty sure she may have called me an idiot in nicer words. I started taking the pills the next day, at work. I figured, hey I work in a Doctor's office, if I'm going to have some crazy allergic reaction or side effect, better it be here than at home! So I took it, and I sort of felt like a space cadet for the first few days. Little by little, with the help of these magical pills, I started gaining control of my life again.
I was able to focus again and take care of my kids again and do basic household chores again. Somehow I neglected paying my rent for several months. I couldn't tell you to this day where that money went, but I am grateful that we had an understanding landlord who didn't throw the girls and I out on our asses. With my new found mental clarity, I realized my soon-to-be ex husband was in a lot of trouble, and I realized how upset my children were without him in their lives. Things were a bit crazy between him and I, and I had a lawyer, and a restraining order and it was just downright ugly and unnecessary. I have a lot of regrets from that time, and I can't take any of it back. I thought I was doing what was best, but I was refusing to accept any responsibility for anything that had occurred.
Moving forward. After several months of not seeing their dad, he came and visited. I let him spend the night with the girls, and there was just so much pain between us. The divorce was due to be finalized in about three weeks. I'm still not sure to this day what caused the change of heart. But I'm glad it happened. He moved home, I stopped communicating with my lawyer and missed our court date, we worked out some issues, we made some life changes, and things were good.
A month later, we went to one of the best concerts I've ever been to, City and Colour. Sometime right around then, I got pregnant. A few weeks later, we found out I was expecting, and I was shocked, excited, shocked, amazed, and shocked. I excitedly made doctors appointments and started looking at baby names and watching all those birthing shows on Discovery Health and TLC. But I just couldn't shake this feeling from my gut that something was wrong. A week or so after we found out, I started experiencing all the classic symptoms of a miscarriage. I remember going to the midwife, the same one who delivered my second child, and she seemed so cold and callous. I'd never had a miscarriage before, and I was scared and upset and didn't know what to do. She didn't check me or anything, just asked me to describe what was occurring with my body, gave me a specimen jar and a brown paper bag with instructions to "collect" any tissue, and sent me home with some motrin, a lot of questions, a lab slip, and ultrasound appointment and a broken heart.
I had to get my HcG levels monitored so they could determine if the miscarriage was "complete". Since no actual tissue had passed, there was concern. My HcG levels were around 50 and since I was supposed to be around 6 or 7 weeks along, the OB resident following my case explained to me that in a normal, healthy pregnancy, my HcG level should be a lot higher than that. I had my ultrasound, which confirmed there was nothing in my uterus. A second set of HcG levels were taken, and they weren't dropping, just slowly increasing. The OB resident at that time began to expect an ectopic pregnancy. Another ultrasound was done, and they still couldn't find anything anywhere in my pelvis. At this point I was officially diagnosed as having an ectopic pregnancy and told to go to the emergency room to meet with the on-call OB resident for an injection of Methotrexate. The nurses came in with full chemo garb on, injected me, and left. I went home and continued to have my HcG levels monitored twice a week. Two weeks later, when they still hadn't dropped as quickly as the doctors anticipated, I was told I'd need a second Methotrexate injection. So off I went back to the emergency room, and had labs drawn. After my lab results came back, I was told that the first injection had caused my liver enzymes to elevate, and that they weren't comfortable doing a second injection at this time and was sent home to wait and see. I told the doctors anything further would have to wait, because I was going to Las Vegas in two weeks. The whole process of resolving the ectopic pregnancy took several weeks, about 6 total from the time I knew I had lost the baby until my HcG levels were back to zero. Because of the Methotrexate, I was told I had to wait 3 months to get pregnant again. I dealt with this whole experience without the help of family, because I was afraid of their reaction. I never told any of them, what was going on (with the exception of course of my husband). I'm glad I was still taking my magical SNRI pills too, as it allowed me to ride out the whole experience in a numbed state of mind, instead of being devastated as I would have been if I wasn't being overloaded with seratonin and norepinephrine.
Wouldn't you know though, 3 months later, I conceived. I immediately called the OB clinic and asked to have labs drawn. I didn't want to get my hopes up. They drew labs 4 times over two weeks. My HcG was increasing as it was supposed to and I was hardly able to contain my excitement. Things were pretty uneventful for awhile...
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