I had a scare, yesterday. A very scary scare. On the day that I was hoping for a new beginning for me, I had to stop and reconsider. With a brand new do - a minus 25 inches new do - I thought it was time to get back on my Atkins wagon and begin my new WOL - Way Of Life. I started off great! Then the pain began.
That all-too-familiar pain of diverticulitis. Burning, searing pain on the lower left side. Way too many trips to the bathroom (TMI? Ah, shut up, you're grown). I had a low-grade temp of 99.6. All kinds of scary visions filled my mind. Another surgery? This would be my fourth on my poor abdomen... well, okay, more than that. My poor scar has seen enough scalpels. Fears of ostomies and colostomies filled me with a fear that left me shaking. My body is already forever changed. It does not function normally, anymore. I must plan for trips to - anywhere - with great care. People just don't understand that if it's over an hour away, unless I'm on a plane, I can't go. I'm tired of having to say why. I once made a terrible mistake by telling someone that I simply cannot come to her home because of the distance. When asked why, I simply said, "I just have ... issues." Of course, now they offer me some Ativan, and think I have social issues. Gah.
Today, I am feeling better, but still a twang of pain is lingering on my left side. If it continues throughout the day, a call in to my surgeon is in order. I know what he'd suggest and that too scares me. An admission to the hospital for tests. If I have one more CAT scan, I'm either going to start glowing, or I will get cancer from those. Great. If the disease doesn't kill me, the tests will. *sigh* I can probably find out how many I've had if I want to. I know it's over twenty in the past four years. NOT cool.
So, today, I will - again - forgo my WOL diet (I hate the word "diet") and opt for a few days of resting my digestive system with a liquid diet. It's better than another PICC line. I'll be damned if I have to resort to that to feed my body, again. If I have to endure another week of intense sterioids being pumped into my body - and gaining another twenty+ pounds in just days... I know, I know; I'm forgetting my mantra:
It could always be worse.
I think I'll light my candle and do some soul-searching and prayers... along with a cup of beef tea and a side of Gatorade.
I'm feeling a bit snarky and pissy. While I try not to feel sorry for myself, sometimes I feel I deserve to pout.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for letting me vent. I'm off to go spread joy.