to be continued...
Friday, 12 August 2011
I forgot about PMS...
I'm miserable, I'm grumpy, I'm pissed off... Yep - it's PMS and I had forgotten how bad I got PMS. If you haven't guessed, I've stopped taking the pill because my surgery is only 4 weeks away. I'm in a mood, so all I'm going to post is...
to be continued...
to be continued...
Sunday, 7 August 2011
"Primary Progressive Aphasia"
PPA is a form of dementia. My mother-in-law has just been diagnosed with it. I'm not sure how I feel. We have never really gotten along - for the first 3 or so years of my marriage she didn't even speak to me... And then when she did speak to me I kind of wished she'd go back to not talking to me!
To be perfectly honest, I wasn't suprised. She has been "losing it" for about 2 years or so - very obviously over the past few months. Hubby and I thought she had Alzheimer's - so it is good in a way that it is not Alzheimer's, but it is a form of dementia so that's not good no matter how you look at it. It is just an awful disease, not so much for the patient once they are no longer having lucid moments, but for the family who is left around them and being forgotten by them.
My initial reaction to the confirmed diagnosis was "Damn - there goes my babysitter!" Which I guess is rather horrid of me, but I just can't bring myself to like my mother-in-law. She is one of those people that just isn't likeable... She has this way of making you feel stupid no matter what you do or say.
My sister-in-law is a real mess over the whole thing - regretting all the time she & her family haven't spent with her mum. Hubby has no regrets but is still pretty worked up over it all. Father-in-law has gone into limbo, and to make things worse he is really sick too - he is bleeding internally from his intestines somewhere that they haven't been able to locate and he has lost the blood circulation in one of his legs. He is a heavy smoker and drinker, and isn't willing to stop or cut down, so the medicos aren't that interested in giving him another theatre spot to investigate and operate. Personally, I don't blame them.
So, the family is all a bit of a mess and I am just blah. Whatever. I honestly don't give a shit - as long as hubby is OK, and the girls aren't in danger, I'm not fussed. I don't have time to be bothered by in-laws problems, particularly when I don't even like them. I have to concentrate on my heath & fitness, weightloss, pain management etc. leading up to my hysterectomy - I'll be a couch potato for 6+ weeks after it, so I need to be in the best shape I can be, both physically and mentally, by Sept 12.
Bad news there - if I stop taking the pill 4 weeks before surgery (Aug 15) it will reduce the risks of blood clots or something, so obviously I'll stop the pill. Bad news? I'll probably have one more period before it's all chopped out... and going by the few periods I've had in my life, it ain't gonna be pretty! Rather ugly and extremely painful... Not something I'm looking forward to. Fingers crossed that the slight chance my IUD still has enough progesterone in it to keep me from bleeding will be the case.
to be continued...
To be perfectly honest, I wasn't suprised. She has been "losing it" for about 2 years or so - very obviously over the past few months. Hubby and I thought she had Alzheimer's - so it is good in a way that it is not Alzheimer's, but it is a form of dementia so that's not good no matter how you look at it. It is just an awful disease, not so much for the patient once they are no longer having lucid moments, but for the family who is left around them and being forgotten by them.
My initial reaction to the confirmed diagnosis was "Damn - there goes my babysitter!" Which I guess is rather horrid of me, but I just can't bring myself to like my mother-in-law. She is one of those people that just isn't likeable... She has this way of making you feel stupid no matter what you do or say.
My sister-in-law is a real mess over the whole thing - regretting all the time she & her family haven't spent with her mum. Hubby has no regrets but is still pretty worked up over it all. Father-in-law has gone into limbo, and to make things worse he is really sick too - he is bleeding internally from his intestines somewhere that they haven't been able to locate and he has lost the blood circulation in one of his legs. He is a heavy smoker and drinker, and isn't willing to stop or cut down, so the medicos aren't that interested in giving him another theatre spot to investigate and operate. Personally, I don't blame them.
So, the family is all a bit of a mess and I am just blah. Whatever. I honestly don't give a shit - as long as hubby is OK, and the girls aren't in danger, I'm not fussed. I don't have time to be bothered by in-laws problems, particularly when I don't even like them. I have to concentrate on my heath & fitness, weightloss, pain management etc. leading up to my hysterectomy - I'll be a couch potato for 6+ weeks after it, so I need to be in the best shape I can be, both physically and mentally, by Sept 12.
Bad news there - if I stop taking the pill 4 weeks before surgery (Aug 15) it will reduce the risks of blood clots or something, so obviously I'll stop the pill. Bad news? I'll probably have one more period before it's all chopped out... and going by the few periods I've had in my life, it ain't gonna be pretty! Rather ugly and extremely painful... Not something I'm looking forward to. Fingers crossed that the slight chance my IUD still has enough progesterone in it to keep me from bleeding will be the case.
to be continued...
Thursday, 4 August 2011
The Reality Hits
The reality of my hysterectomy came thundering down today when I received the hospital paperwork. There it all was in black and white.
I guess the psychological impact that my gynaecologist had warned me about and my psychiatrist further added to - both of which I dismissed out of hand - is actually having an impact on me. So strange since I don't want any more kids and don't feel like having my uterus and associated bits removed will in anyway diminish my femininity. Guess I am subconciously grieving for what I have not yet lost.
It is sort of comparable to my first miscarriage. I had 3 miscarriages before having Abigail, and another 2 miscarriages before having Leah. Total: 7 pregnancies but only 2 live births. My first miscarriage, however, was the worst. The combination of my first pregnancy (after almost 6 years of trying) and things going so well, that when the routine ultrasound at 18 weeks showed no heartbeat we were shattered.
I point-blank refused to let anyone except my fertility specialist touch me, and he wasn't available until Monday, so Hubby and I had to endure a weekend from hell knowing I was carrying a dead fetus... Come Monday I thought I had come to terms with things best I could, but when I woke up from the D&C I just lost it completely - the grief I felt was completely overwhelming. And to top it off, Hubby wasn't there because he was coping in his own way, and that included being as far away from hospital as possible.
If my feelings of depression, blah, lonliness etc. at the moment are a response to my hysterectomy, then I wonder what I will face after it is actually done... But all of this doesn't mean that I don't want it to go ahead.
to be continued...
"You have been booked in for a Total Laparoscopic Hysterectomy, removal of tubes and right ovary, treatment of endometriosis, Cystoscopy."No more surrealism - it's most definitely real. Still a weird feeling but my brain seems to be coming around to the facts of the matter. All my child-bearing bits are being cut out in just over 5 weeks leaving only my left ovary all on its lonesome to handle all my hormonal-needs until I hit menopause (and that is a completely different chapter that I will cross when I get to it in about 20+ years...)
I guess the psychological impact that my gynaecologist had warned me about and my psychiatrist further added to - both of which I dismissed out of hand - is actually having an impact on me. So strange since I don't want any more kids and don't feel like having my uterus and associated bits removed will in anyway diminish my femininity. Guess I am subconciously grieving for what I have not yet lost.
It is sort of comparable to my first miscarriage. I had 3 miscarriages before having Abigail, and another 2 miscarriages before having Leah. Total: 7 pregnancies but only 2 live births. My first miscarriage, however, was the worst. The combination of my first pregnancy (after almost 6 years of trying) and things going so well, that when the routine ultrasound at 18 weeks showed no heartbeat we were shattered.
I point-blank refused to let anyone except my fertility specialist touch me, and he wasn't available until Monday, so Hubby and I had to endure a weekend from hell knowing I was carrying a dead fetus... Come Monday I thought I had come to terms with things best I could, but when I woke up from the D&C I just lost it completely - the grief I felt was completely overwhelming. And to top it off, Hubby wasn't there because he was coping in his own way, and that included being as far away from hospital as possible.
If my feelings of depression, blah, lonliness etc. at the moment are a response to my hysterectomy, then I wonder what I will face after it is actually done... But all of this doesn't mean that I don't want it to go ahead.
to be continued...
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
A Word About My Profile Pic
I thought I'd just quickly explain why I chose a refection in a shattered mirror to be my profile pic. Essentially, I chose it because that's how I feel. Depression has completely and utterly shattered me; broken me down; broken me into little pieces. Forever damaged my life, relationships, the way I look at things... I feel like the doctors have simply picked up the pieces and put them back together. Hence the shattered mirror. I might be all in one piece and doing OK most of the time, but there will always be the scars. There will always be the cracks. I will never be the same "me" again.
to be continued...
to be continued...
Wednesday, 27 July 2011
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Finally getting what I want... BUT
I have long suffered from endometriosis and PCOS - both of which added undue stress & anxiety to my depression for many reasons, such as being told at the age of 17 that I could never have children. Who at 17 contemplates that they can't have kids? Of course you can, can't you? Anyway, ever since the endometriosis et al kicked in, shortly after my periods started, I have been begging my doctors for a hysterectomy. I just wanted it all chopped out because the pain was unbearable. You think childbirth was painful? That's absolutely nothing on endo & PCO...
But the story was always the same - you're too young, you might want children, you might want more children (as I managed 2 beautiful daughters) etc. etc. However, my last visit to my gynaecologist resulted in him actually recommending a hysterectomy as the best course of action. He recommended it. Finally, after all these years, I was getting what I had been begging for. And he's taking my tubes and right ovary as well while he's at it. I should have been ecstatic... I should be ecstatic.
I wasn't. It was all suddenly too real. Surreal actually. My big wish is about to come true, and it just seems so surreal. My gyno is fine with it. Hubby is fine with it. My shrink is drafting a letter to the anethetist telling him what's what with my meds so they don't get all stuffed around during the op and post-op. I'm booked in. I am on the theatre list for Monday 12 September.
But it is too surreal. I just don't get my reaction! I feel a bit like a deer caught in the headlights... It's just too weird.
to be continued...
But the story was always the same - you're too young, you might want children, you might want more children (as I managed 2 beautiful daughters) etc. etc. However, my last visit to my gynaecologist resulted in him actually recommending a hysterectomy as the best course of action. He recommended it. Finally, after all these years, I was getting what I had been begging for. And he's taking my tubes and right ovary as well while he's at it. I should have been ecstatic... I should be ecstatic.
I wasn't. It was all suddenly too real. Surreal actually. My big wish is about to come true, and it just seems so surreal. My gyno is fine with it. Hubby is fine with it. My shrink is drafting a letter to the anethetist telling him what's what with my meds so they don't get all stuffed around during the op and post-op. I'm booked in. I am on the theatre list for Monday 12 September.
But it is too surreal. I just don't get my reaction! I feel a bit like a deer caught in the headlights... It's just too weird.
to be continued...
Thursday, 14 July 2011
It REALLY annoys me when...
... a friend, who refuses to admit to his own problems with depression, comes over for lunch and ends up pschoanalysing ME.[rant mode on]
It is infuriating and I'm still so annoyed and cross with him!!! I understand totally that he is doing it out of friendship and all that, but it really gets to me because he is struggling so badly with depression and anxiety himself, and he is unwilling to or incapable of admitting to it and refuses to get himself some help.
I should give some background... This is a friend of many, many years and a very close friend of hubby & mine. After the break-up with his fiance (this was to be marriage #3) - who then got cervical cancer and blamed him for giving it to her - he had a mini breakdown. We were there every step of the way helping out however we could. Now, helping is very different to telling & lecturing...
Fast forward a bit, and he started seeing his GP who prescribed him Xanax and Zoloft (I swear GPs should NEVER EVER prescribe anti-depressants - but that's a whole other post...) and he started seeing a psychologist. This seemed to help for a while, and then started to help not so much. Hubby & I began to wonder how "sane" the so-called psychologist was and how strictly our friend was taking his meds...
Fast forwad to the present, our friend just got fired from his job (one he had only been in for 5 months) and is now spiraling downhill fast, but won't admit it - instead he is intent on "saving" me and "helping" me and basically every time we talk he is telling me what I need and what I should do about my depression. All the while he is not even looking for a job, hence making his depression worse, has stopped taking his meds, seriously bad idea, and isolating himself.
Me, on the other hand, am having the odd bad day (as my last couple of post will attest to) but all in all am doing pretty well, am working and studying, am socialising, am taking my meds strictly as prescribed etc. etc. The last thing I need is a depressive-in-denial lecturing me about depression!!!
[rant mode off]
Thanks for letting me vent!
to be continued...
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