In Case I Die During Surgery…

I’ll tell you what is more powerful than the drug Adderall – the possibility you may have terminal illness or you may die during surgery.
I’ve been trying to get my hands on Adderall (the miracle “get focused, get things done drug) – that seemingly EVERYONE is on (according to Greg Gutfeld of Red Eye). Yet, I haven’t met a doctor yet who will prescribe Adderall to me (and since March of this year, I’ve seen almost as many doctors as Obama has seen golf courses).
Since September of 2013 – things have been going a bit wonky for me. I landed in the emergency room of Doylestown Hospital for severe pain in my left side. I’m totally going to do a medical diary because you will not believe the journey I’ve had since then.
Oh, and if I go off on a different subject while writing, please forgive me, it’s because I AM NOT ON ADDERALL and I can’t stay focused.
Anyway, I was quite sure the pain was from a cyst on my ovary. And they did find a cyst, but said it was functional (whatever the fuck that means – how is a cyst functional? Does it high keep my eggs in line? Does it keep my red blood cells from fighting my white blood cells? Does it direct sperm the way an air traffic controller directs planes?).
They also (possibly) found some diverticulum on my denuondum (say that 5 times real fast). Okay, blah blah blah medical crap – bottom line, I was released with some pain pills and told to see a GYN, my family doc, and find a GI doc.
As the winter came, I started feeling really run down. And started TURNING DOWN invitations to parties (drink).
All I wanted to do was curl up on the couch with a book or watch Sociology Documentaries – (Reality TV).
I just thought maybe I was getting old or John’s antisocial personality was rubbing off (insert dirty joke here) on me.
Even more bothersome than my lack of enthusiasm for drinking socially was my inability to concentrate. Everytime I sat down to write, I went off on tangents. I started using binders to get organized but the more I tried to organize, the more time I spent actually organizing. I literally have shelves full of binders now. All I seemed to be able to focus on was making lists of “TO DO.” And then I started reading in an effort to understand why people are so fucking CLUELESS (ie: what has happened to America?) and the more I read, the more highlights and fabulous quotes I found, and the more my binders grew and the less I actually did anything because I had so many different ideas and couldn’t focus on one.
Anyway, so then at the end of February, I became really sick. 3 ER visits in March. There was one real bitchy nurse in the ER named Jean. She was such a fucking rude old bitty. Everyone else was pretty good though – even though no one could figure out what was going on. What they did find was that large (almost 5 cm) diverulia (it’s like a pouch), that cyst was still of my left ovary, and oh, yes, now I also had a lesion on my liver and my red blood cell counts were low (as they still remain low to this day). My family doctor of 8 years (Dr. Christopher Notte – who I loved (despite the fact he wouldn’t prescribe me Adderall) because he was so down to earth and his named is pronounced Naughty. I mean, c’mon, how fun is it to say: “My doctor is Dr. Naughty?”And he wasn’t naughty at all. Very much a family guy who claimed his wife (also a doctor) was much smarter than he and he ALWAYS whipped out his iPhone to show me pictures of his kids) had left the practice he was with and so that left me to try and find someone new. And man oh man, did I try MANY doctors out. And they ALL thought it was something different. And some contradicted other doctors. One gynecologist told me that “ultrasounds don’t lie” when an ultrasound didn’t pick up my ovarian cyst. She was totally upper crusty and WAY more intune to my body than I, obviously. After a CAT scan found that cyst, I went to a different gynecologist who assured me that ultrasounds do miss irregularities. I have a history of PVC’s (heart palpations) and though usually not bothersome, they came out in full force toward the end of March, leaving me to wonder if perhaps my heart was the root of my problems. When my palpations first came on, it was 2006 and I had been tested and told I was fine – my heart was just a bit excitable: nothing to worry about. Then I had surgery in 2007 and went into bigeminy and trigemny while under anesthesia – which freaked out the doctors and nurses. I didn’t really give it a second thought though, because I’d been had numerous tests and the cardiac doctors said I was fine, so I must be fine!
Anyway, during the spring, I saw so many damn doctors. Every week it was someone knew, searching for an answer to why I was so tired I couldn’t even lift my arm to grab the remote to turn on the tv, why I would be out of breath when walking Jack or after taking a shower. Honestly, I had only 5 good hours to get shit done before I would collapse in a daze and wonder what the fuck was happening. And during those 5 good hours, I would Google medical conditions. I felt if only I could figure out what was wrong, I could figure out how to get well. It was really the not knowing what was wrong with me that was so frustrating.
I found a new family doctor (not only is he wonderful, but the office staff is too – a rarity) gave myself a month off of going to specialists, stopped trying to figure out what was wrong and simply went with the flow. As the days got longer and warmer, I became stronger. But the pain in my left side would sideline me occasionally. When the temperature drops to around 70, I have to put on sweats and a sweatshirt, and because cancer runs in the family, I decided I was “well” enough to start on the journey of figuring out what was wrong. My latest bloodwork showed my red cell count is still a bit on the underperforming side, and my vitamin d is low (which is AWESOME, because now I can lay in the sun and tell John it’s a medical necessity!!). And a new ultrasound has deemed my cyst is now “complex” and possibly hemorrhagic – but, we won’t know until I have surgery. And since cancer runs in my family, I’ve decided to have all my inner lady parts removed. But I’m freaking out that I’ll die in surgery (which, listen, it wouldn’t be so bad, there are WAY worse ways to go. And I have total faith in the GYN I have now. I don’t really like kids (unless they are my own, family, or children of close friends) – but my new GYN is so fabulous, she makes me almost want to have kids (not really, but with her as an ob/gyn, she’d make doctor visits fun) because of my cardiac history. Or because nothing ever seems to go as planned with me. I’m terminally doomed to have shit go wrong.
However, one thing I’ve learned from the many sour lemons in my life, is to always see the bright side, and so my bright side is this: I don’t have Adderall – but I do have the pressure of thinking I may possibly NOT be waking up after surgery. Or that functional cyst might turnout to be dysfunctional – so, you know, though I generally am known to be quite vocal, honest, and a bit of a unique character, now I’ve got the looming threat of being silenced.
Silence? Me? Okay. I mean, it’s gonna happen sooner or later.
But guess what? I will not go quietly! So expect in the next two weeks, I will be writing as fast as I’m able, because I have a-lot to say. About working at Wegmans. About bosses who have sucked. About boyfriends that have sucked. About people that suck. And about great people too – because mostly my life has been filled with totally awesome people (and dogs). And about why/how we’ve become so fucking stupid in America (because when I started getting better, I read a-lot of history and psychology books and why we behave like we do and get screwed by friends, lovers, bosses, family, etc) and how we can become happy and clued instead of miserable and screwed.
I’m taking the next two weeks to live fearlessly and filter-free. Hopefully you’ll be entertained. But if you’ve ever pissed me off, you should probably be as scared as Lindsay Lohan when she is faced with a breathalyzer. Oh, and my writing will NOT be free of errors, you know why? Because I don’t have time to re-read, revise, and make it perfect. And because I don’t have Adderall. Which, possibly turned out to be a good thing. I’m also taking the next two weeks to eat more bacon and Cheetos.

Freed Fact: If you don’t watch Red Eye – you’re totally missing out on a great show. Especially the ones where Gavin McInnes hosts. Very Informative. Very funny.


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