Confessions

So I know that I've been a negligent blogger. I really don't have too much of an excuse since I am a teacher on summer vacation, married to a teacher who is also on vacation.

But I do have one, and I think that it's pretty good.

So friends, I've been really stressed out. Not for my upcoming surgery (more about that later), but for my summer. I've been trying to cram as much fun and relaxing and work into July that I can. I spent the first two weeks of July in just a crazy state (I was having heart palpitations!) over how little time I had before August 4th.

It's only July 24th and we've done quite a bit. We went to my fertile best friend's cottage, we hung out with Mr. JB's family and we went up north for our anniversary (and bought a time share -- a deal that we just couldn't pass up -- I'm sure that I'll have plenty to blog about that in the future!). We've spent the past week dealing with my bad stomach and finally getting the basement organized, and I feel pretty good about the progress that we've made.

I spent almost all of yesterday putting together my new office furniture in the basement. Mr. JB isn't the most handy guy and I.kea furniture just drives him around the bend! He was pretty helpful tightening stuff as I figured out the instructions, but his back has been bothering him so he had to take a lot of breaks. I'm heading back to my favourite furniture store today to get some more shelving and to figure out some more storage solutions that won't cost too much money. I'm looking forward to doing the trip solo since Mr. JB has plans this afternoon so I can take my time.

I had my pre-op/pre-admission appointment on Wednesday. I was afraid that I wasn't going to make it because my stomach was just horrible. We celebrated Mr. JB's mother 65th birthday by eating sloppy joes Tuesday night. His mom passed away in 1990 and every year since we've been married we've commemorated her birthday with the first meal that Mr. JB ever made. When he was 8 he complained that he didn't like what she made for dinner so she told him that he could make dinner the next night and he chose to make sloppy joes! It makes me so sad to see how much Mr. JB and his brother miss their mom. She was quite the remarkable woman, from what everyone tells me. She also raised two wonderful boys that talk about her almost daily. It also breaks my heart that my father-in-law, although he's been in a relationship for 14 years, still talks about her like she's in the other room, not passed away for almost 20 years.

Mr. JB tells me that he talks to his mom about helping God send us a baby. I do have to admit that I've talked to her to. She had endo as well (as I've mentioned before) and she went on to have three pregnancies, although one of them was an ectopic. I really wish that as I go through this experience that she was around so I could ask her questions since my mother isn't exactly forthcoming.

Anyhow, I had my pre-op appointment and everything went well with the exception of the technician that took my blood. I am afraid of needles. I know that I had to get over it when I had to give myself HCG injections, but when it comes to getting my blood taken it makes me feel sick. Nauseated even. So I calmly explained to the woman about my fear and I asked her if she could use a butterfly needle and she basically ignored me. So I knew that I had to just turn my head and grit my teeth. She kept on telling me to relax, but when she poked me it was painful. When she asked me if it hurt I told her yes. I wasn't going to lie! When she left the room I burst into tears and now I have an ugly bruise on my arm.

Argh.

I have good veins and I know this from getting my blood taken on numerous occasions. If she was a nice technician that wasn't a butcher I wouldn't have a bruise. I do admit to calling her a few choice names in my head. She deserved it.

It looks like I will be in the hospital for three days. Our insurance covers us for semi-private rooms, but I chose to spend the extra $75 a day on a private room. The last time that I was admitted I was in a room with three other people and it sucked! I really hope that I'm not in the maternity ward, but I was too scared to ask where I would be.

I'm scared. There's no way around it. Before my last surgery I was excited. I wanted a diagnosis and I thought that I would have some of the endo removed. Now that I've had three months to think about it, I've had the worst case scenarios running around my head. What if the doctor can't fix everything and he has to take out my uterus? What if it's so bad in there that even after the surgery we can't conceive? What if I have a reaction to the anaesthesia and die?

Don't worry, I've only worried about the last one a couple of times.

So that's where my head has been. Maybe being sick has been a way that my body is coping with all of the worry, or not coping. My bad stomach is always made worse by worry.

I'm off to lunch with a girlfriend that has no idea about our IF. I look forward to being able to talk to someone that will get my mind off of all of this craziness.

And crazy is exactly how I feel.

p.s. I'm going to have a pain med pump after my surgery. Is it sick that I'm excited about that??