Graphic In Nature

I had a very long talk last night with a good friend of mine.  She is going through something so different, yet we can relate so much.


My friend's pelvic floor is completely destroyed due to a form of birth control.  She has endured 3 surgeries in 3 years for 3 different issues involving her reproductive system.  Doesn't seem like a lot, but when you have a full Hysterectomy by the age of 28 due to pain of your pelvic floor, then it becomes a big deal.


Hysterectomy (if you want it in my terms, is the whole thing gone: egg holder, baby holder, and the Bering Strait; all gone) is the real deal. 
You can't go back. But, she had to do this. 

We had a long talk about relationships, our goals, and our struggles.

I felt for her.  She has never wanted to have children so the news of not being able to have one was not as heart-breaking as it would be to some. 
She just wants to be a normal person again.

 See with these surgeries, when you have problems in the "south-pole", they are never really a one-and-done kind of thing. 

When one problem occurs lots of problems could happen, and it can take awhile before you can return to doing the things you love, or even normal activities.

The thing that makes us as woman is in complete jeopardy.

Being as young as we are it makes the whole becoming a woman thing kind of a running joke.

I only had my period for half of my life before it decided to retire. 

People do tell me all the time how lucky I am to not have a period.
Brah...I'll trade you.

I started this blog because of this. 

There are so, so, so many women going through these problems.  They are not just painful on the person itself, but the spirit.

I have been searching for a peer-led support group to help with this because hearing her story (and many of the stories I have heard from people reading my blog) have not only helped her or you by telling it, but it has helped me.  But most groups are for those who have experienced miscarriages, and those who are dealing with infertility with a partner.

I mean, I have no problem showing up alone, but that's what it feels like...being alone.

Family is cool, and friends are great, but if you tell me to adopt or there are other options; I am going to punch you in the face.
You think we don't know that. 
We know the cost.
We know most of the options.

But we are living in a society where women that should have children are on their third or fourth, and I am praying for a miracle, or hoping that maybe 40,000 dollars for adoption will be able to be made in payments.

We just want to hear-
"That sucks."

 Let me vent for a minute, and then tell me a joke.

That's it. Don't try and fix it. Tell me it sucks. Because it does.

And the joke calms my mind. I love to laugh.  This is on our minds most of the time, so any distraction at all to help us forget is exactly what we need.
It's called being a friend.


Seriously though the amount of people that have reached out either with kind words, or to share their stories... Thank you.

Keep it up. The positivity you all spread by your love and honesty is what keeps people like us hopeful.

Fueling Blank Faces

This weekend was a very interesting one.
Well I think it was interesting.. But I, also, watched the 1962 version of To Kill a Mockingbird on Friday, as well as, Pride and Prejudice, and Dear Zachary.
Some pretty "lit" night as the cool kids would say.


I couldn't sleep to save my life, which is the opposite of what those "nerve pain" pills were suppose to help with. 
When I finally did fall asleep, I had a dream that my teeth were getting pried out tooth by tooth, and I could feel the hole where they once were.  I could feel the pain of  each tooth getting ripped out of my mouth.  I could feel the blood coming out of my mouth, on to my tied down hands.  I was wearing a white shirt, my hair was pulled back in my typical pony, and I was tied to a black chair; it was wooden. 
I could see my teeth on the table.  They looked like sea barnacles, and coral. 


It felt so real.  I woke up 3 hours later of what seemed like a life time of pain and torture.
"Is this a side effect of the medicine that is supposed to be helping me?"


Hell yeah it was.
I did a little research on these pills the doctors have me on for my chronic nerve pain. 
This medicine is not just for nerve pain, but it's used to treat depression.  It is also used to treat PTSD.
I have no depression issues, and I do not suffer from PTSD.
The side effects include:
blurred vision
change in sexual desire, or ability
constipation
diarrhea
dizziness
drowsiness
dry mouth
trouble sleeping
weakness
headaches
loss of appetite
nausea
tiredness
involuntary or uncontrollable movements (this side effect happens in over 60 percent of patients and is likely to be permanent): in the tongue, face, mouth, jaw, legs, and arms
eye problems (high risk)
chest pain
confusion
dark urine
difficulty speaking, or swallowing
hallucinations
night terrors
fainting
numbness
problems sitting still
panic attacks
unusual or severe mood changes
seizures
slurred speech
aggressiveness
impulsiveness


 There are a few more, but I think you get the picture.
I understand they have to account for every single side effect that could happen or has happened to any person ever taking this medication ever.
But to risk of all of this to help the nerves in my stomach so I don't vomit?
These are the potential side effects.  I have been taking it for 4 days and the mood swings are very real, the night terrors are real, the headaches, the problems sitting still, the tiredness, and the nausea, the loss of appetite ... all very real.
The drawbacks of this medication outweighs significantly the pros of it.
They told me to give it a month.


I stopped today.
As soon as I read change in sexual desire and ability, I knew it was time to throw in the towel. I am already having all the problems in the world with that, no need to Clam Jam myself more than necessary.


I will call tomorrow, but they are just looking for a solution rather than understanding the problem.  How can a medicine that is suppose to help cause that many problems. 
I have felt less like myself a more like a stranger to my own body.


I listened to my body and it told me to stop.
I'd rather feel all the pain in the world than ever lose myself.

PSA: This Might Get Emotional.

I know I promised I wouldn't get sappy and emotional, but they have me on these meds that make me feeling some type of way.
So get ready for getting 50 Shades of Uncomfortable.

I have begun the waiting game.

It's getting to a point in my life where I don't know what else to do, except live as normal as possible, without letting it creep into my mind at every moment.
Alcohol really helps.

I am still waiting to hear back from Dr. S to start preparing for the next step: Surgery.
I am so ready for the healing process to begin.

My mother had asked me if I really want to do this in the middle of the semester.

I want to heal physically, and mentally before I open a new chapter in my life.
I truly don't want to keep feeling like this is unfinished, like a haunting memory of something that could have been.
I think that when I finally do this last procedure I will be able to move past what seems like the hardest part of my life.
I know you have said that before.

"Today is the hardest/worst day of my life"

I remember when my boyfriend in the 7th grade cheated on me with the little blonde, and that was the "worst day of my life".

Is it?  I will face much worse things in life I am sure of it.
I feel extremely blessed and fortunate in my life, because I could have had it so much worse.

I've never lost a child.
I haven't been trying for years to get pregnant with my husband.
I don't have cancer.
I don't have a terminal illness.

I truly am a lucky person.

I am happy for all my beautiful friends with children, and my pregnant friends.  The life of happiness you get to face.  A true blessing.
I do seek guidance from a higher power to show me a path that will best utilize me to my full potential.
I just don't like waiting. I don't like not knowing. 
When I don't know what is going to happen I freak out, and go back to something that I am familiar with.
I am a runner.
Not in the aspect of actual running.
I use to get made fun of for my running, which is actually is quite comical within itself.
Like,  gazelle one day out of the womb trying to figure it out.
It's not cute.

I am a joker. I don't deal with things. I run from it. I hide it under something until it goes away. I ruin friendships, relationships, and everything around me.  I will run before you hurt me.

This is the first thing that I can't run from.
And I am terrified.

Nervous Guts? No Problem.

Well outside of my lack of baby-making ability, I have had a little bit of a stomach problem.
(As I mentioned previously in my blog)

I had the white one. 

The CameraPill...remember?
Well the lovely Paula, from Dr. N's office, called today on my way to class today.  She explained that the CameraPill was a little unsure and they can never really tell with the pictures.
Which has been a very common response I have been getting from these wonderful tests.

I still need to get those pictures hopefully in JPEG form.
I know you are curious of what this pill looked like, and the very sexy get-up.
So here you go:

The Get-Up. 

And I am not 100%, but I'm pretty sure it has exited the aircraft safety.
That will always be one of Kelsey's Biggest Mysteries: CameraPill, Did you ever come out? 

Anyways, they had executively determined that I have overactive nerves in my guts.

That was her exact words, "overactive nerves in my guts".
I don't even think I know exactly what that means.

She has slightly explained a few very intense medical words that had way too many vowels for a normal word.  Then, said that I would have to start taking this medicine that old people use to take to help manage the pain in my abdomen.

She did tell me it will help me sleep, and God knows, I need that.

We will give it a month to see if it helps.
I am going to be positive about it because, I know it's mostly about mindset.

In all honesty,  I will be thankful for any relief.
I am not huge on showing weakness or complaining, but
This really sucks. 

I know I can overcome this.
But right now it does it sucks.  I want to eat spicy sushi, and drink a Bloody Mary, without vomiting.
I want to eat sweets without having to lay down for 30 minutes like I am waiting to get in the pool.

The positive side is that because I don't want to risk eating all this food in fear of vomiting; I have lost a lot of inches and am in probably in the best shape of my life.

So when people ask me how I lost the weight....
I tell them Get a "GI problem" 

In all seriousness, I don't wish this on anyone.

Where Do Babies Come From?

What a wonderful question.


Most people would respond to a curious child would be:


Mommy and your daddy loved/love each other very much and we did a special act (sex) to have you. You grew in a special place in mommy's tummy called the womb.  After 9 months of you growing,  you came out of mommy and you were mine.


Adorable, right?


Let's be real it's not an easy talk. You have to explain all these questions from your child, who doesn't quite understand. And they are like well if Daddy loves you so much, where is he at? Or,  what is a vagina?


In this day and age, simply, the stork story is not going to get you far. Then you have to explain why Jared from the playground said that mommy is a liar.   


Then your kid is left with this weird image of what is really happening.


The sex answer is the most common answer.


It's not the answer I will get to give.


Depending on the route I take for having a  child one day, I will have to explain accordingly.


 I could take the approach of:


Mommy wanted you more than anything. She fell in love with donor 247 because he played football for Virginia Tech, he is a neurosurgeon, and he didn't bald or prematurely gray.  The place you grew as a baby, or your greenhouse, was up to code.  Mommy took a bunch of medicine and had a bunch of shots for weeks that made me very nauseous and cry because, I saw a photo of a baby Otter, and I thought it was cute.


You were made in a party plate, aka the petri-party palace with half of mommy's hormone injected eggs, and half of sexy donor 247's semen.
They partied 2-6 days strong.




They were like the Oprah of Eggs and the Vincent Van Gogh of Sperm.
Defying all odds.


You decided to pull residency to grow in the greenhouse for like 9 months, because it was allowing you to eat and stuff, but then, it got way too cramped and small. Plus, you were like really wanting to hang out with me, so you came out and now, we are best friends.


Or Something like that.


I'll write a book.  I'll hire Eric Carle to be my illustrator.   My book manager, Trevor, will have to do that research for me to make sure we are really depicting the need that suctions out the egg from the vaginal wall is given its due diligence. Subtle, yet graphic.


It's a work in progress, but I definitely feel I am on to something here.

Green Crochet Daisy Stirrup Liners

So the doctor's visit went pretty solid today.
I arrived  45 minutes early.   I knew it was too early because I arrived at the exact same time as the first person in the office did. 
When I got on the elevator, I complete forgot what hospital I was at, and what floor I needed to go to.  Thank God the receptionist was on there with me because she called me by name and pressed the proper button.


The waiting is the longest part.  The actual meeting takes like 15 minutes. 
They say hello, check your weight, check your temperature, and make you pee.
They frown upon you peeing on the doctor.
I don't personally know; I've just heard.


It's the only time a stranger can be like, "How is school? Do you still smoke? Okay.. No... Awesome.. now take your pants off  the doctor will be right in. "


I always have a personal debate on whether to take my socks off or not.
Today, I didn't.


Well after the "check-in", Dr. S and I discussed my up-coming surgery.


So turns out we are not going to be able to do the Laparoscopic surgery again (as explained in first post), I will be doing a Laparotomy instead, due to my extensive damage to my left side. 


Laparotomy is a stupid word for large cut in abdomen, my lower abdomen to be precise.


I really tried to convince her that we should make two, slanted incisions so I could have a sexy "V" to my "V"...
Apparently it's "impractical" and "unrealistic". 


So, instead, we get to do this super balling, 3.5 inch, "C-section" status incision, which will end up going through my tattoo on my right side.
The tattoo is a quote from my favorite book.  Dr. S said she will do her best to "put it back together".


If it's anything similar to my glue job from the Santa Plate of 2015; then I am screwed.


I'm going to have to come up with some legit story.
Stabbed in prison is the best I have so far.


I guess on the bright side if my whole career path doesn't work out, at least I can still get a job at a local strip club.


I have, also, been working out to a point of obsessive because I am hoping  how in shape I am in a swimsuit will distract from this large scar. 


Before you think I am a complete dick; I don't have a problem with C-Sections. I don't have a problem with C-Section scars because when you have one it stands for life that you gave. And that is beautiful.


I am cynical towards mine because mine will not stand for the same thing.
In all actuality, mine will stand for the exact opposite.


I hope that when I look at myself I am not disgusted.
I hope that when I built up the courage to stand naked in front of another person, that it's not the only thing they see.
I hope that when people see me in a swimsuit that they don't whisper about the scars on my stomach.


I hope I learn to love it, instead of feel sadness. 

Doctors Without Boundaries

Figured I would mention a little something about my Camera Pill that I swallowed today.  The prep was like every GI prep; long, cleansing, and hungry.  It went down easy, and I hope it comes out just as easy.  (No I don't have to return the pill).


I look forward to the pictures next week.


Anyways,  so tomorrow at 8:45 in the morning, I have my Pre-Operation appointment with my homegirl, Dr. S.  She is legit. 


Most women understand this, but we have to really trust the doctor that is looking at "our situations".  Normally with the lady doctor, you are only suppose to go in once a year, for the "yearly". 


Dr. S and I have been seeing each other a lot more than that. 
I even shave my legs for her. 
You could say it's getting serious.


Actually now that I think about it... Every doctor in that office have seen my.....business.
It's not very common for me to have both tubes blocked, so they are curious.  I understand that.
But going in consistently since September at least every other week, kind of makes you feel like things that seem so personal, like the inside of your body, is no longer a secret.


When I call, they say to me, "Hey Kelsey, Long time!" 


It's probably not a bragging moment, when the receptionist know you by your voice on the phone. 
It's hard to not feel a certain way when you walk through the halls of the office and you know for fact more than half of the people there have seen...everything...


I wonder if they look at me and they are like, here comes "Blocked Tube Girl", like I am some kind of comic book hero.


The Adventures of Blocked Tubes Girl
....will they ever fix her?


I sure as shit hope so.









 

Where They At Though?

Something has been really been on my mind lately.


Let's back it up for a second..
So little information about me is I am a brat.  A military one. We moved around constantly.  The only consistent people in my life have been my family.  I lucked out with them because they are awesome.
That being said we moved here the year I turned 16.  


I was not a good kid.  I did awful things. I made terrible decisions.  I was young and rebellious.  I have since grown-up, but I ruined a lot of relationships the first few years here. 
Which has led me to now.


I have a lot of playground friends. Those are people I can call up a couple, grab a few brewskis with, and tear up the evening.


This has changed quite a bit since I've become "sick".
I don't feel well most of the time, so smashing 1942 isn't on the top of my list. 


I have to really not feeling well to turn down my boo, Senor Julio.


When you can't play, what's the point of being around you?


I mean.. I know you are like, "Kelsey that's so silly. People hang out with you all the time. You have like 3,000 Facebook friends. 324 likes on a picture.  You are so funny, and fun."


You are right.  I am a lot of fun. I am extremely inappropriate. I like to people watch.  I am actually kind of an asshole, but in a very douche-y, sweet way.  I am salty, and sweet; the perfect combination.
But, I have gone my whole life being a Weekend Warrior, even a Tuesday Warrior.
I don't discriminate against the day of the week.


Why would I start attracting people now who don't go out.  That's not my style. 


Friendships are so weird; you, like, find a person that you get along with for longer than 15 minutes, you do stuff together, and then you like talk to them when you aren't together, but you don't want to sleep together.  If you do, you violate the friendship and someone gets upset.
Friend-zone is so important if you don't want to completely ruin the chances of staying "just friends".
That's why They call me BK aka Boner Killer. I am very good at friend-zoning guys.

I have trouble holding on to women relationships.  I am not sure why.
Me, I don't like using the bathroom at the same time. It's weird. I don't understand it. Why do we have to go in there together. I am actually kind of pee-shy.
I don't like going on and on about boys.  I mean they are cool, but if I like him; I'll tell him.  If he is making me mad; he will know. We don't have to talk about it.
 
I did have an amazing friendship once with a girl. I miss her a lot.


I just don't understand how to make them now. I don't understand how to walk up to another human being at this point and say, "Hey, I want you to come over to my house and watch 100 episodes of Law and Order: SVU with me because I don't ever feel well."
Good Luck on a Friday night.


A lot of people I like, that are woman, have children.  It's hard to not feel upset, when it's not something we have in common, or that I can share with them.  I am so happy for them, but I can't help but feel envious.  Maybe that's why I have a tough time with it.  Maybe, it's hard for me because I don't feel like a complete woman.


Does one ever get over that?

Dateable Debatable

One of the hardest things to do, even before my "Bering Strait" was out of commission, is dating.
I am a class A, chronic, bad dater.  My previous pattern consisted of trying to date the unattainable (boys who didn't want girlfriends), and lets just say that didn't work...obviously.


At 25 there is a pool of single men left...

My depiction of the Pool of Guys I have to select from.



Okay, now I know what you are thinking, "Wow Kels, Great art work!".....and thank you I worked really hard on it.

So this is what the picture means:

1. The Shallow End: This consist of our good time boys.  They are your weekend warriors; the Hook Up Kings of Oklahoma.  They don't want a serious relationship "right now", which means you. They are normally extremely attractive, and they know it. 

2. The Deep End:  This is the divorced, older men who just want to be married, because they are afraid that they have an expiration date on finding love, and the ones with baby momma's.  There is nothing wrong with being divorced and/or having children with another woman, but if we are going to be real; it's a category.

3. The "Too Young For You" boys:  Being in college at 25 is not an ideal place, actually, it's an extremely awkward place to date.  They all look the same age. It's best to avoid that all together.

4. The Holy Grail of Men: These are the one's that I can only presume I have not met yet.  I can only speculate that they have accents (British ones), volunteer on their free time at the hospital saving children, love traveling the world, and want 31 dogs...and me, of course.  

Things did change when I found out I couldn't have children.  Dating at the age of 25 is not easy.  On top of that, being infertile really makes you question the seriousness of the relationship. 

At this age most of us, not all, want to date to eventually one day get married, but how can I be that selfish.  

To say "Hey if you chose me, kids might not be an option for you but I am sure I will age very well."    I haven't even made a decision if I want to put myself through IVF, or adoption.  

Could I really be that selfish to make another person go through this? 

My mom tells me all the time that it won't matter when he cares.  But is that tricking him if I know I can't and he so-calls "falls in love" with me, and I didn't tell him.  Then what? 

Couples are 3 times more likely to divorce because of infertility. And it would be my fault. 

I am cruel, but I am not that cruel.  



The First One

Pre-Warning:  This is my first blog.  This is my first blog post.  I have no idea how to approach this, so please, bear with me. 

This will be my longest post (I hope).

 I honestly don't know where to begin.  So I guess, I will just jump in. 


My name is Kelsey.  I am currently 25 years old, and a student at the University of Central Oklahoma.  This blog is starting as a requirement for one of the courses I am taking called, Blogging for Journalist.  That being said some post will be in reflection of that.

The other reason, which I didn't realize until as of recent, I am writing this blog is to create awareness. 

Before I really get into it, I have to say this...
I don't want this to be a "dear diary, woe is me, feel bad for me, tragedy strikes" blog.
I do not want your pity.  There is nothing wrong with me.

This is a therapeutic outlet, because there are others.  They may not know it, but they exist.
1 in 8, actually.
 
Well, 1 in 8 couples, at least that's what Google says, so it must be true. 1 in 8 couples deal with problems of infertility. 



Technically the definition of infertility is "Not getting pregnant despite having carefully timed, unprotected sex for one year." Typically that is the way you find out, right? 



I wish I could have been so lucky.



My story is a long, dreadful, graphic one, so I will graciously spare you the details but basically:



I started cramping like crazy, and not like regular "suck-it-up-don't-be-a-wimp" cramps because I can handle those, these were the "drug-me-to-stop-the-tears-and-vomiting" cramps.


I went to three different doctors.


I had a very uncomfortable ultrasound.


I found that one of my fallopian tubes, (the passage ways from the ovary to the uterus, AKA egg dropper to the baby holder; you are welcome) from the ultrasound images, was blocked. 

So then in October 2015, we decided to do Laparoscopic Surgery (which is where they knock you out, pump you full of CO2,  put this scope thing that checks out your insides through you belly button, and two small incisions on the abdomen, so they can stick these claw-like things in your stomach to move things around).



Let's just say, we opened Pandora's Box with that.


So I found out that not just one, but both tubes are completely blocked.

I asked about reconstruction; they can't do it.

I asked about draining them; it's impossible, they are solid.


So after the semester ended in December, I went to see two specialists to find out what the hell I was going to do.  The Reproduction Specialist, and the Digestive Specialist, because I have two problems now:


1. I have completely blocked tubes.
2. They don't think that is the cause of my abdominal pain.


So over the winter break, I worked A LOT, to try and keep up with these insane medical bills, and I went to the doctors. 


At the Reproduction Specialist they said that the only way for me to have children is IVF.


IVF is In Vitro Fertilization. 


This is probably the most romantic way to have a baby.  

This is where they shoot you full of shots for months, you have this surgery where they stick this needle in your abdomen suck out an egg to a petri-dish, swish it around with homeboys sperm, wait a few days, and then stick it in the uterus aka the baby holder.  Then you have a 50% chance that will take.


By the way, its 15,000 dollars, nonrefundable, but it's totally cool, because if it doesn't take then you can freeze some of your eggs and they only cost 5,000 per egg, also, nonrefundable.


The chances go down after the age of 35, so at least I have 10 years to save up for this or decide if I even want to put myself through that. 


And of course, the other obvious ways such as foster parent, adoption, and/or marry a guy some day with a kid. 

(They obviously didn’t say the last one but, it is an option)

I will keep it short on the Digestive Specialist because it has nothing to do with my infertility, yet it is so interesting.  So in short with this doctor, I have had an Endoscopy, a colonoscopy (yes at the same time, and no, not the same scope), a CAT scan, and on Tuesday, I get to swallow the camera pill.  

Pretty excited about the camera pill because I will hopefully get some results and the pictures will go towards my collection for my Christmas card next year.

The Christmas card is an ongoing joke, but I am so serious.

So now my wonderful readers, you are up to speed.

There are ups and there are downs.  
There are beautiful parts, and there are less beautiful parts, but my goal for this blog is to shed light on what infertility really means for a young single woman who actually wanted to have children.  

So stay tuned for this roller-coaster.   

KA