Well, I have had my work cut out for me, this is for sure. If there is anything I hope the ones who read me take away from me, it’s that preventing the illness might be easier than reversing it – albeit – not always possible. So, if nothing else, I continue to hope that my writings reach those who need support and encouragement to never give up. Seriously, never, ever.
Some days I wonder why I share so much. Have I just become entertainment, like an intense movie that helps people distract from their own lives? Am I so desperate to be loved that I will bare my soul to prove I am a worthy of breathing? Do I simply crave connection? Maybe a little of all of it? I will never be able to say for sure. But even if those were the reasons, aren’t they innocent? Don’t you, reading this, also crave love from time to time? Isn’t connection delicious especially after not having it for a while?
Regardless of the reasons I vacillate, there is an unwavering truth that lives inside of me. I believe having the courage to share our experience, strength, and hope, is what makes the world go round. Staying quiet about what might help a fellow brother or sister is akin to refusing to water the thirsty seed, and then calling that seed a failure. How can anyone or anything grow without some rain?
Even sunshine burns when you get to much of it.
So I bring my rain then sing and show you how the sun comes out, everytime, after all. And then, it rains some more, etc… repeat and repeat.
So, I write. And I speak. And I sometimes get called verbose. And I get teased for the texts I write that are novel like. And I grin and bear it all because I know who I am. I also know the difference between those who poke fun because they adore me, and “the others.” I don’t know – the word jackass comes to mind. So, for those of you who don’t like the lengthy way I express myself, keep on scrolling, or go fuck yourself. Oh, that’s not anger, consider it more of a happy invitation.
For those of you who my creative ways seem to touch somehow, hello, again! And do read on!
Every ounce of energy I have has been going toward healing this body o’ mine. I am grateful for this surgery because it saved my ass. I know I’ve said that before, and I will continue to reiterate the sentiment for all eternity.
My liver was badly affected after being so sick for so long. What is scary is mine wasn’t even the worst case out there. I would have been considered mild compared to some people struggling with this wretched illness. Diabetes takes hold of your insides and demolishes the life of your organs. The grave danger I was in becomes more and more apparent with each test I take.
I had severe scarring on my liver from the non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD) that I unknowingly lived with for so long. Level 4 is cirrhosis. Mine was between a level 2 and 3. This was determined by the biopsy I had during my surgery. I then went for a fibro scan, which suggested I did in fact have non-alcoholic cirrhosis. Then an ultrasound which also suggested intense scarring and found a lesion on my liver. I have been working with a liver specialist at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center (BIDMC) who ordered all of this for me. And my final liver test just happened last week – I had to have an MRI.
Not only can’t I believe that
BIDMD does not have bigger MRI machines. Like holy, update your imaging
equipment, Batman! I also really got that I would not be a good candidate as
Houdini’s assistant. You know the one he stuffs in a box and puts swords
through? I used to think that would be cool to do – well, thanks to this teeny
tiny tube I was shoved into for 40 minutes of my life – I have erased being a
magician’s sidekick off my bucket list! No thank you.
The MRI confirmed that my liver will not be the thing that kills me. The lesion was confirmed to be a hemangioma. Apparently, some of us are born with these little clusters of blood vessels. I have multiple for some reason along with a few cysts on my liver. But nothing dangerous. So, it seems I bought myself some more time to try and figure out my purpose here as together we walk this big blue marble that is floating in space. My MRI also confirmed that my NAFLD has also vastly improved – yes, it is on its way to reversing! My blood sugar remains balanced and good as does my insulin resistance. I still have mild numbing in my belly – but this is to be expected after the scraping and cutting my surgeon did to remove the scarring on my stomach wall.
I have a few more tests to go and by the end of April, if all goes well, I can breathe easy and go forth like a warrior! And this will be just in time for the spring. I will give another update when all of this has happened. I look good and healthy – which is the most important thing because we all know that’s it’s not how you feel, it’s how you look. That is a joke, of course. I really don’t feel much different, to be frank, then pre-surgery as far as my life goes. I mean, wherever you go, there you are, despite the skin we wear. Although, I do feel lighter on my feet and it’s nice to know my pancreas and liver aren’t currently killing me.
This next part of my health update is a head’s up for my (predominantly) male readers with even a hint of an antiquated belief system. I am going to talk about the mechanics of my vagina now so stop here if you must.
One of the other tests performed on me was a complete pelvic ultra-sound. I began to bleed this past January - just shy of 1 year of not having a menstrual cycle. Well, my ovaries looked fantastic! And my uterus looks alright too – so I had a hormone test. Wouldn’t you know it? I am not in menopause yet! WTF? This in addition to the fact that estrogen is stored in fat cells. 51 pounds of fat cells have fallen off my being so my doctor has a hunch this might have been part of the reason. So to sum it all up, I had a full blown period – yup – seven days long. While all of my other lady friends have been finished for quite some time now, this body is still working it all out. I do have a funny story to accompany this news, for those of you still with me here.
I was taking a brisk walk a week ago Friday. I had my earbuds in which always somehow makes me talk louder. For those of you familiar with me, I typically, vocally hang out in the high decibels to begin with. I was talking to a friend and catching them up on my health while I walked.
I was sharing my “can you believe I’m not in menopause” story with passion – and seemed to have forgotten I was outdoors. The more passionate I got the louder I spoke.
“Can you believe it? I am NOT in menopause yet! What the f*ck does a 56-year-old woman need a period for? I mean, if I am ever pregnant again – you have my permission to just take me out back shoot me in the head and kick me into a ditch.”
I continued… and albeit
unintentional, I screamed a phrase that I have I have in fact used before:
“… And also, if I do get pregnant it will be a friggin’ miracle unless my dildo has sperm!!”
Well, wouldn’t you know it at that exact moment a handsome gray-haired man passed me walking, and he was NOT wearing earbuds. I turned white as I realized what he had heard. As he passed me, on my right, and gained speed, I screamed “OMG, I am so very sorry, sir!” He turned his head toward me, gave me a cute smile, and continued to walk, FAST. A head’s up about me. When I am embarrassed or anxious it is not my instinct to pull back. I, in fact, get louder and go toward the situation. Even though I really don’t want to do this, I cannot seem to help myself, so far in my life.
“I’m so sorry! My GOD, I’m so sorry, sir!”
Well, not a word. He continued to walk without consoling me in any way, shape, or form, and I was left with my horror. I continued to scream “Sorry, sorry, sorry….” Louder and louder. And then, I stopped. Needless to say my friend and I had a good belly laugh although mine was mixed with a tiny bit of crying.
So, the moral of the story is –
When you are walking outside, you are NOT the only one out there. Just sayin’.
And also – as always – not only do I hope I brought some lightness and hope to your day. But, for those of you who are struggling with the same stuff I have been through, please feel free to reach out. Write me a message and I will help in any way that I can. Emotionally, physically, what not – I can refer you to lots of people who are very good at what they do.
There is hope. It ain’t over
til’ it’s over. And is it even over then?
One step at a time. One moment
at a time….
Sending all of you my love –
xoxo Steph
Comments