AdventureWorld

Shadoobee

I have so many wonderful stories of horrendous pain and human degradation; I just can't wait to share them all! But first I have to poop. Seriously, at this point it feels like even my brain is backed up.
It's been eight days since my last shadoobee splashed down. My whole abdomen is so distended I look like I'm about to give birth to bigfoot.
It sounds funny but it most definitely is not. Trust me on this.
During my recent incarceration hospitalization, the proactive plan to counteract the pipe-clogging effects of all the opioids was to have me down a couple of glasses of Miralax a day but since for the first three days I couldn't even sip water without retching that plan had to be scuttled. So, after days and days of morphine, OxyContin, and Percot my intestine looks like an adobe village.
Since I've been home I've been dilligently trying every remedy except for the harsh laxatives that give me godawful intestinal spasms because after three days of having my bladder spasming non-stop, desperately trying to expel the offending catheter, I never ever want to hear the word spasm.
I think I'd rather stick a blasting cap up my ass. I must have one lying around the house somewhere

ticktockticktockticktock

45 minutes and counting

Shit Sandwich & Shining Armor

Last Thursday was my all my pre-op appointments, it was a very long and difficult day in all kinda ways. But I did have some pleasant surprises with people stepping up to make sure this hospitl visit is not as horrendous as the last.
When I met with Dr. SexyHands I was trying to joke around with him as usual but I was kinda, er, on edge. The resident had done a lenghty exam on me first (damn you teaching hopital!) and I kept getting progressively crazier until I was no longer making any sense whatsofuckingever. I told him I was sorry I was going all whackadoodle on him.
He was nice and was saying all the things one would expect a doctor to say when one is about to have one's spine taken apart with chisels and hammers. I kid you not--orthos are like some meticulously masterful carpenters. (Don't tell Dr. Sexyhands I said that, he might take it the wrong way.)
I popped an Ativan between doctors so when Dr. SH came bounding in I was not as bad, but I was still a hot mess. I was asking him specific things about my surgery so he was drawing a spine on the white paper that covers the exam table. As he was drawing I was dazzling him with my knowledge of anatomy, naming all the parts. When I pointed to the facet joints I said there's the facet joints but if you were drawing mine they would be gigantoid. So, he said yeah, your's would be like this and drew cartoonishly large facet joints and we laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.
In spite of all our giggling I was still obviously uptight, as in my head was about to explode. He was trying to reasssure me about the surgery and I told him it's not anxiety about the surgery that has put me on the CrazyTrain, that it's how awful I was treated the last time I was hospitalized at Stanford. I started babbling about it and had to just will myself to shut the fuck up already.
I told him that it had been a difficult decision--because I'd sworn I would never, ever be hospitalized in Stanford Hospital again unless I was unconscious and, therefore, had no say in the matter. But I told him I'd also sworn that if I ever had this surgery it had to be him doing it, that I really trusted him, had total confidence in him. But the problem is he only does surgery at that hospital. 
In less polite conversations I'd called that quandry having to eat a shit sammich to get the surgeon. I decided I'd try for a less vulgar way of putting it so I said the first non-vulgar thing that came to mind, which was too bad becuase making vulgar analogies is when I bring my A game.
I said, its like, if I want to come to this dance with you I have to wear a REEEAAALLLY ugly dress. So, then he just looked at me with this funny look on his face and reached over and started writing something on my notes. He said here's my cell phone number, and said there was nothing he could do now about something that might or might not happen in the future but if something did happen, I should call him and he will personally get things straightened out.
I just about swooned with gratitude, and also because he looks really hot in shining armor. I also wanted to wave the number around while shouting "Suck it, bitches!" at the mean nurses I had before but who knows if Nurse Ratchet and Nurse DeVille even work there anymore. Hopefully, not, because you know how my luck goes.

Goodnight, Sweetheart, It's Time To Go

My sister-in-law died today after a year long battle with cancer. She loved reading my blog, when she saw me she would quote her favorite lines and laugh and laugh. She commented as TxSiL. I wish I could have cranked out some funny stuff for her but my heart has been filled with infinite sadness these past months for many reasons.
I sent her a GetWellBear; she named it Truly. She texted me a photo of her and Truly snuggled in the hospital bed. Oldest Brother tells me Truly was with her to the very end. That's a good thought.
My most ferverent wish was that she would not suffer, that she wouldn't linger on and on until a miserable end.  And that my brother would not have to endure watching her go through it. It was the only thing left to wish for.
My brother said her death was incredibly peaceful. She just slipped away without making a sound or stirring. She was just gone with that last breath. For that wish granted, I am very grateful.

Bingo!

Well, the big day is set for December 9. I pushed the date out so I could see some projects to the finish line before I went MIA. By the way, please slap me the next time I think something like that is a good idea.
As I often say, I’m lucky to have the best medical care you can get with Stanford Medical Center just a few miles away. My surgeon, Dr. Alamin, is the same surgeon I saw eight years ago when the Spine Specialist I was seeing back then told me I’d have to have surgery.
Years ago, he agreed that I could take the wait and see if it got worse approach; he didn’t try to scare me into having surgery like I felt the other doc was. And he had a fantastic bedside manner to boot.
So, I was always said if I had to have surgery he’d be the guy I wanted so it seemed particularly serendipitous that he was the surgeon my current Spine Specialist recommended.
Kinda kismet-y. I take it as a good omen, especially since I could use a good omen right about now.
Because my surgeon is so into cutting-edge surgical techniques (no pun intended) he is going to be able to do the extensive re-build with an approach that will cause much less peripheral damage that causes the really lengthy recovery.
If they use a posterior approach to your spine, they have to dissect big back muscles; if they go in through the abdomen there’s all kinda not good. And sometimes you need a vascular surgeon to get the spine surgeon to the spine.
My Superstar!Surgeon, otherwise known as Dr. SexyHands, will be going in from my side. Yes, I did say side.
I’ll explain more later but don’t read it if you are already queasy, or there might be a big ol’ barf-o-rama in the blogisphere.

The Bullet Dodged; The Bullet Lodged

The main reason I hardly ever blog any more is because my life has been so utterly consumed with medical drama for what is starting to feel like forever. I always said I never wanted to be one of those people who only talked about their health problems but now I AM that person. Health problems have a way of hijacking your life.
So, the things I have written about are not even the Main Event. My spine has progressed to a disaster zone. So, that bullet I’ve dodging for years, the ultimately inevitable surgery, has finally become the no choice option. But, after today, I literally don’t even know where to start first.
I’ve recently found out, from an MRI and a CT scan. that I had severe lumbar spinal canal stenosis in addition to the  spondylolistheses that was diagnosed years ago. My spinal canal is reduced to only 7 mm at L4-5. My ligamentum flavum, the big ligament that runs down the spine, is now almost completely ossified. AS—the gift that just keeps giving!
I’m at risk for permanent nerve damage now, not to mention the, uh, really un-funny pain. So, my spine specialist had already set me up to see a spinal surgeon for what would be extensive and major decompression surgery, plus fusion with  the dreaded bigass titanium screws and rods.
But, then my cervical spine is also killing me and I have developed incessant pins-and-needles tingling in my fingers.  It seemed like my already bad cervical spine was getting in on the act with these disturbingly NEW neural symptoms. So, I was sent off for another MRI and today I got the results. As you may have guessed, I also have a totally fucked up cervical situation, with severe stenosis at C3-4, C4-5, and C5-6. And, of course, risk for permanent spinal cord damage.
Motherfucker!
I see the surgeon tomorrow. I’m going to ask him if he is familiar with the term “twofer special”.

Busy Bee, Me!

In addition to dealing with all my infirmaties, I also had to (happily!) prepare for my LongLostCousin's visit. So that meant I finally had to finish scrubbing up my antique bed and getting it set up in my room so I could put my old bed in the guest room ..and make it a REAL guest room.

I got it all done just in time because she's due to arrive today. Here are pics of my divine new boudoir and the be-my-guest room. [click on photo to enlarge for more wonderous viewing]

My French flea markety look

Guest room with fabuluos antique linens that you can't see but are, indeed, fabulous

Horsey!

Today, I had the best lunch ever as far as lunches with no food are concerned. Well, there was food, but not for humans--only for horseys. My friend, MyBelle, has a horse and and me and two of our pals all skipped outta the office at noon and headed out for the pastures of Portola.
We went to feed Summer Sunset her regular food and the bag of carrots I brought her. That girl loves her carrots! But she let the other horseys have some, too, because she's knows it's better to share the love.
Since I can't ride horses anymore--now or maybe ever--because of my motherfucking spine, the next best thing is feeding them treats and petting them silly. I did both.
It was quite fabulous and, also, kinda slobbery.
Behold the equine enchantress, new owner of my heart.

 

 

This Post Is Brought To You By The Letter L

L is for Lupus. I have it now, the version called drug-induced lupus, from taking anti-tnf biological response modifiers for years. Yes, kids, there is too much of a good thing. Supposedly it will go away since I’ve stopped the AS drugs but tell that to my malar rash. Butterfly, be gone!
L is also for Levaquin, which is the anthrax drug I just had to take an assload of because while my immune system was going WTF over the lupus nonsense, a particularly nasty respiratory infection moved in to stay. It raged for ten days of supine stupory. It was no fun AT ALL.
And L is for linger as in I fear that motherfucking respiratory infection is going to linger in my lungs forever! Really, I begin to seriously wonder.
Tomorrow I will be another year older so L is also for Lucky, lucky me! Actually, I prefer another year older over the alternative so that’s not nearly as facetious as it sounds.
L is for forgive me my lack of loquaciousness of late. I do have many things to say, someday.
And last, but not least, L is for love; gimme some.

At Long Last, A Gallery!

I have some really good reasons why it has taking me forfuckingever to get the latest Zambia photos up but those are other posts. Anyways, behold! (looks much more gobsmacking in Slideshow view, of course)

Zambia 2011 Gallery