Frightility Part Deux

 We are IN this. and I should have written sooner if I was going to document this properly, but I didn't and here we are so this might be a two part-er of part 2.

It's literally fine.

So let's begin.

So since we last spoke, I had my egg retrieval, and my transfer and there has been emotions on emotions. 

Also, I am basically a doctor now, because I am going to school for medical coding and ALSO because I give myself so many shots that I should be charging myself a deductible and Tricare should be paying me but that is neither here nor there. 

So we did a couple of weeks of shots to produce more follicles which hold eggs,  the follicles can hold anywhere between 0-2 eggs.  They have you develop more follicles than normal so that way you have the best chances.  Well when I woke up, they had egggstracted 16 eggs, which is incredible.

8 of them made it through the fertilization process and 6 of them made it through the cryopreservation process after developing for more than 5 days, which means they have more likely of a chance surviving because there are a lot of cells. 

So I had 6 Capt America Babies.  

Well during my egg retrieval they had to perform a surgery to make sure I didn't have anything adhering to my uterus which would prevent implanting, so they went in and when they go in to make sure they put more saline in there  which would destroy the embryos, so I had to wait a couple of weeks * a month to be exact, before I could start to prep my body for a FET, aka a Frozen Embryo Transfer.

We did our Frozen Embryo Transfer on Monday Oct 9th.

And you know how I like to keep things super interesting....I decided although advised against.. to do 2 embryos.  Yes, I said that correctly...2.

The reason they usually advise against is because those embryos can, also multiply.  I could have more than 2... but in my heart of hearts I knew that God wanted me to do two. I couldn't stop the force that was coming at me.  Something kept pulling me to do two, so we did two. 

I hope it means something.  I guess I am writing now because between crying every 5 minutes over silly things, and the exhaustion that I am just finally at a point where this is it.

We find out tomorrow morning if I am officially pregnant. And I am honestly so petrified.

I have done everything, absolutely everything in my control to make this happen.. and its now completely out of my hands. I can't take anything I can't do anything at this moment to change the outcome. 

and that terrifies me. 

This is the truest testament of faith that if it is meant to be for us it will be and if it is not then it is not. 

And I have to be okay with that.

I am in completely over my head and I have to be strong regardless of the news tomorrow.  

I really don't know if I am more scared that it did take or if it didn't. I really don't know. 

But I do know that I am scared. I do know how I felt went I saw those embryos go in. I do know my husband is the best partner that could ever exist.  

Seriously though. I have been on hormones since August.  I have already shown him so much crazy that its unreal, and he has been patient with me and this has been really hard on the both of us.

I guess I am just so nervous that I don't know how to be right now.  We will find out 15 hours. 

Shit I am losing it. 

Off the wagon? On the wagon? Something about a wagon.......

Well I’m back on my bullshit. I swear I only start writing when I’m close to losing my shit. 

Two weeks ago I decided that I was dying. Knees and Spaghetti style with some mild vomiting.  It was my right side that was in excruciating pain.  

If you’ve been keeping up with my shit then you would be like 

Oh man Kels isnt it usually your left side, and I would say yes yes it is but not this day.  

On God I thought I had appendicitis.  Even FaceTimed or whatever Google’s shit is for the time where I can see your face. And pointed to where it hurt like he is a doctor. 

I finished whatever I was doing (I was going to say doing laundry but I don’t do that, and I was going to say cooking but I definitely don’t do that either, but I was doing something) so I waited a minute to call my sister in law to come snag me to drop me off at the hospital. 

They get me checked in pretty quick.  People have been avoiding the hospital like the plague lately.....

Get it.

Well I hobble in there and I end up knowing the scribe.  Cute little thing. 

We end up loading me up on some pain medication to make sure I start to feel some kind of relief because by this point I’m basically dry heaving. 

Well CT scan shows I had a cyst rupture.  COOL. I tried to explain that me having cyst is so 2013 and that I am not looking for a B2B. 

They can’t do anything for ruptured cysts due to it happening already.  So they load you up on hydros, and morphine and you just head on out.  

It’s wild to me how they do that.  

They don’t tell you its going to hurt for days. But what is pain at this point anyways. Constantly feels like a figment of my imagination.  It’s all in your head. 

I swear there is enough shit in my head. 

I have been trying to maintain that its not a big deal at this point. Chronic pain feels so played out. Can a girl get some Chronic Pleasure, or what ever that type of weed is that I smoke.   

Honestly when I talk or preach or feel anything about it, it feels like a broken record. 

I am supposed to make an appointment to see the ultrasound specialist to check out the ovaries to make sure they are chilling where they are supposed to be and they are not covered in cysts, which hoping they aren’t.  Don’t tell my mom or my roommate that I haven’t made the appointment yet. What are they going tell me.   Let’s getttem gone (I live in Oklahoma thats how everyone talks..I’m kidding...I’m not)

Sounds made up... just like when my roommate told me that your periods don’t control if you like someone or not.... SOUNDS ::claps::MADE::claps:: UP.

Anyways, I am putting it off because I’m in the middle of opening up a restaurant and sound like something I don’t have time or effort for. 

I’ll just do what I’m good at which is burn it off a both ends and become a hermit psychopath.

And I know I’ll be the best kind.  

Overdosing is Less Than Everything Else

Well I never expected it to be this long since I have written.
I have made up every excuse to avoid being vulnerable again or seem like I need a grasp on life or help.
But I think it's time to get back to myself and figure out what I am missing or what I need.
If it sucks it's because it's been too long and I am technically so far out of school that I might not even recall the difference between their, there, and they're...(I'm kidding about that last part. Yikes)

I have been so busy with immersing my every being into my career, to where it is making me bury everything else and now it is biting me in the ass like it always does.
  I have had a lot happen since I have decided to write again. So a recap I guess would serve a purpose because.. well I really don't need an excuse..because this is my story anyways..

I tried the internal shots.
And the first time it was like God had bestowed upon me the feeling of what a pain-free life would look like.
Well that's a stretch...the path is anything less than ideal.

A giant needle penetrating your muscles in your pelvic floor...::no no I don't like that::

It was the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life. We ended up doing 8 internal shots. Dr. T was putting gauze in places that I didn't think one should put gauze. I started to freak because she was like WE NEED GAUZE, and said it in a urgent manner like she had just cut off a piece of my body. 

 The tears were worth the terror.

I have done 8 rounds of shots. Two internal and 6 external.  I have only done two internal because the first time was awesome but the second time made me so sick. Dr. T shared some dark Dove chocolate to settle my insides. Turns out if you are on your cycle it sends the muscles into shock and causes your body to freak out. And it did.  IT really did.

Dr. T said shots are not a permanent solution and I knew that and she knows that and we all know that, but I was scared for another surgery and scared for the pain and scared for the pills.
But I didn't want to say I wouldn't try.
We discussed changing my medications up. What's ONE more pill.

 I was taking 20mg of Lexapro to manage my anxiety and they decided to switch me over to Cymbalta.  This anti-depressant is also an anti-spasmatic. 

Well in the laws of the drug world you can't stop taking one and start taking another.

You have to ween off that shit.  So we decided to take me down to 10mg of Lexapro for a week, then 10mg with 30mg of Cymbalta, and the 10mg of Lexapro with 60mg of Cymbalta, and let's just say 60mg with 10mg is too many mg for my body.

I overdosed again. 
My muscles were in over drive.  I couldn't stop moving, I  couldn't talk, I hurt all over.  Brandon rushed me to the ER and my heart rate was 170 resting. My blood pressure was through the roof. They admitted me and pumped me with Benadryl and fluids through my arm and instantly was completely drugged up.  No idea what happened and then Brandon took me home.

It was like a dream. I didn't know when I woke up if it happened or not but I did feel like I was hit by an underage drunk driver again. Prying myself out of bed like they pried me out of my vehicle.
 And I went back to work the next day. 
I am back on the Lexapro and feeling better. 

It's dark in life when you mess with something that stabilizes you.

We still don't have a solution, but I guess I'll be getting my next round of shots on the 11th.

Life is crazy sometimes. Depression is real. Confidence and perseverance really are key to creating normalcy in a body that you wish wasn't yours. 

So like what do you do.

I probably haven’t had real bad anxiety in a long time.

Like I had a full blown panic attack when I moved into my new house, where the walls were shutting in and even outside it felt like I was stuck in a seemingly bottomless chasm.

It's so hard to explain this menacing flow of uncertainty.  It was getting to a point where I would just lay in bed thinking of every mistake I have made in the last 20 years.  It's a toxic nightmare that didn't make any sense.

It was an argument with myself.  I would speak out loud to tell the baleful assertions in my head that they were wrong,

I would be proclaiming I am worthy! I am not nothing!

I didn't realize that after everything there would be so much mental pain too. 

The doctors were so adamant about me seeking council to reconcile with myself over the difficulty of my prognosis.  At first I thought they were worried about how I would take not being able to have children and, though difficult, I have found most peace with that.

So why do I have to speak my inner thoughts and desires and take these pills if I am fine.

I didn't realize they could have been betting on the fact that I would need assistance to get through the nights I don't want to go out because of the pain or the constant worry of feeling fat because of the effects this disease has on your body, endo belly..so hot. 

I didn't realize that it would take a toll on my relationships with the inability to be intimate when I want to.

I didn't realize.

It was getting to a point where I was mad at myself and mad at God and why he would make me this defective human. 

I am worthy.  I should feel that way at least.  It's a struggle.  It's sometimes to a point where work takes a toll, home takes a toll, friends take a toll, and it becomes too much.

That was enough. I didn't want to lose it all.  I did something I swore I would never do again.  Because I felt stronger at one point but I was mad, I was getting angry, every trigger would consume me. I was losing my compassion, losing sight, being awful and ugly to everyone around me.  I did it I got on anxiety medication. 

I didn't want to lay in bed for hours feeling so stiff that I couldn't move.  I wanted to take my life back.

I wanted to be kinder to those around me. 

I was nervous about this change.  Before the doctors didn't worry about what it was doing to me.  It was making me a zombie. It literally almost killed me.

But this time was different; I was ready for it.

Did it make me feel like I had succumbed to this feat? Did it feel like I had given up on my own ability to take control of my own life?
Yes it did...at first.  But I have found myself thinking more clearly, not overcome with rage and anxiety.

It was a beautiful moment to feel like I had gained my life back. 
I was worried a lot about the stigma. 

Take your crazy pills Kelsey.

But I am not crazy.  Am I crazy? Maybe, I am crazy.  But it's not crazy to want to take control of your life.

I don't care for the negative connotation of this majestic antidote.
Do I feel like I want to shut myself in my room anymore and wait for a better day?

No.

I took my life back. 

What's Wrong with Your Head.

Mental stability has never been one of my strong suits.

During my high school days I was seeing this psychiatrist, whose name I don't remember for some pills that I can't forget. 

I was going through typical "My parents don't understand me, and I am a failure because of my grades and my need to drink during the school day" high school slump.

I was a typical kid that didn't technically need to be on Lexapro and Paxil.  But I was. 

I stopped taking pills right after high school.

Then proceeded to resume my pill poppin after my 25th birthday.  My docs decided I need them because I couldn't have children.

I was going through the typical "I am unable to bear children, No one understands me.  I have lady parts for no reason and my need to be drunk during the day" mid-twenties slump.

I needed Jesus, not pills.

After my fiasco, where I took too high of a dosage of pills (talked about it "Well That Could Have Been Bad), I decided no more for me.

The only pills I take daily now will be BC, God Bless that baby chewable pill that causes the stopped up drain of what is my "reproductive system"and of course, 800 MG Ibuprofen, famously known as the Holy Grail of tablets, that was placed upon this Earth by the gods to cleanse my soul of the gut-wrenching agnoy that comes with being Kelsey.
#shoutouttomyliver

Well as of late I have not been "allowed" to take Ibuprofen. 
Long story short:
Football, my face, a dudes face, both facing the ball, collision, knocked out, concussion, ER, impact testing fail, memory loss, not better.
Sadly, that is the shortened version.

I apparently I'm not "resting" enough to be better, which sucks but, I am a busy woman, Dr. M. I got my heart and soul into my career and I can't just put it on hold.  I can compromise, but I can't stop.

Dr. M is really nice.  I've seen her twice now.  Her fingers are cold. It's not a bad thing.  She does look familiar, but not in a way that I know her.  Just like it feels, like I have seen her at a coffee shop or something, like 11 years ago.   You know, familiar but, not.

I really hope I don't lose my hair because my head is all lumpy now.  It would look terrible. Like a fused together peanut M&M.  I don't know... maybe that is a terrible explanation, but that's all I got right now, which isn't saying too much.
I don't really "got" a lot right now, except a headache and a need for more sleep.
I guess this is what the Scarecrow felt like. 

You will be just fine.

I've lost touch.

Not on purpose, naturally.  But life gets in the way.
The days turn to weeks and you just forget. 

The reason I started this was to never forget. 

To remember how I felt. How this is my life, not one that I am watching from the outside in silence. I am trying to remember to play an active role in it.

Much has happened. And I'll do a quick recap to not spend hours on it, which I probably will anyways...  So my last published piece was June... An immense amount of things have happened..

Well I fell in love in a hopeless place, B has become this person, my person, in my life that has washed every doubt of inadequacy that I have ever felt in my life away from me in a way that I never thought I could feel or know or be deserving of. 
It has been a beautiful surprise, one that I thought would never exist, but he does and we are here.

Life changes has led me to being back in the service industry, being in management, gross yet yay.  My employees humble me through their strength, love, and ability to persevere through their own personal trials.  It has been not only the biggest headache I have literally ever had, but the most rewarding headache.  I do love them, but don't exactly love waking up at 4:30 AM on purpose...

My health has been better since I'm back on the ole pill.  That majestic pill that stops pregnancy (not mine other peoples), and psycho ass Kelsey.  Who would have thought.
But I know if I have missed it, because I will sit in the car and sob uncontrollably to a video of Mr. Roger's testifying in front of the Senate for more funding for public television from 1969...yo girl chill...
So the pain is better, minus the swelling.  But beggers can't be chosers... 

I hate that saying.

I'm not a raging alcoholic anymore, which is better.. for my liver.... and the bank account.. that also being said when I do have a drink every once in awhile... I'll have a headache for 13 1/2 days. It's literally the worst.  I guess this is 27?

I am trying to be a better person.  Trying to be a better leader.  Trying to show that I am not this unstable little unicorn that I used to be. 

I'm not as good at this as I used to be.  Not as poetic or well-spoken.  And I definitely still don't have it all together. But did we really expect that to happen..

But. I guess what I am trying to say is: I am still alive.  I am going to try to be more consistent, with my stories of meaningful life shit.  Perhaps a decent story every once in a while. 

Like Mr. Rogers and children, but mine will be to adults who need to feel someone gets it.  Because that's what ties most people together; their ability to be understanding and relate.

Really, Where am I at?

I haven't written in awhile because I don't know if I have been sober enough at this time in a long time.  What can I say it helps me sleep.  That's all I want.

But anyways, enough of my debacles of debachery.  A lot has happened since I last recorded events of my life....it's interesting to me for the most part.

I started a ballin job that I love.  I work with basically a bunch of people I went to high school with and now it's like an adventure every day.  I can do what I love and have an adventure..let's go!

I was seeing someone and it was going really great, so naturally it failed miserably, which I should have seen coming, but what can I say.... I try to obtain the unobtainable ::shrugs shoulders::

You guys...I actually made girlfriends..that like me... it's so weird. I mean I love it, but it's the first time where I would actually consider peeing in the same stall as someone.
I mean I am not going to do that because it's still weird but I would consider it.. which is a huge feat.

My family is growing. My older sister had a munchkin.  A real life small person. Leon.  He is so cool.  I thought I was going to be selfishly sad when she had him but I really haven't.. Not for one second did I feel sadness.

I think that's the biggest feat I have defeated thus far through this transition.
I realized that maybe it's really not for me.. at least any time soon. And I am so overjoyed that I am finally okay with that.

Kids might not ever be in the cards for me and I am liberated by the idea of me being completely okay with that.

My brother is getting married to the best girl ever. I couldn't be more excited, I just have to promise to not drink too much at this one.

The only big issue I have had has been health insurance.  I have been off and I need to go to the doctor. I haven't had my trigger point injections in a few month so the pain has gotten unreal.  There has been days of utter agony and discontent, but I must continue to push forward.
There are woman out there who have been through worse and I can get passed this.

I just have to remain strong.  It helps that my support has been unreal.  My best friend Krystina has been my guardian angel and saving grace.  Being able to have someone who understands and has been through that pain and can have your back in a moment of need is unrivaled.

 I could never imagine my life being where it is now.  Which is why I will never say I know who I am.  I have a slow-played process of configuring how my mind works, but it's a never-ending process.  I am a total different person than I am last year and can only assume I will be different next year from who I am now.

If I am the same person, then I am living my life wrong.  I cannot have that.
There is a plan.  I just must figure it out.  But I have plenty of time.
I hope.

Something None of Us Want to Talk About

I never write when I am feeling 100% myself.  I have been listening to Lord Huron- The Night We Met on repeat.  So if you would like to get the full experience, go ahead and turn it on.
It's a good song.  I mean I wouldn't turn it on right now, but it is on currently, so I guess that's a lie.

Why would I be 100% when I write.  It's like a journal.  It's a way to organize my thoughts and fill my desolation.

A sense of normalcy that I crave.

I know that I am tired.  I decided my usual cocktail of 5 benadryl and sleeping pills was not meant for last night.  I decided to watch 13 Reasons Why.
The reason for myself is why.

I knew it was going to be something.  I just didn't realize what.
And in my addictive mind I knew I shouldn't, but I, also, knew sleep wasn't going to find me; the jetting pain in my side found me instead.

So with heating pad and a glass of water, I plunged into a series that I really wasn't ready for.

I know it's so silly that I am even bringing this up.  But it shook me to my core.

Now before we get started, I am not suicidal..  I was once.
But not in a plan it out way.  It was more of a "would-this-be-better".  Would it make everything go away.
It was 7 years ago.
I obviously wasn't serious.  I didn't even have a plan.

So you probably don't know what I am talking about when I talk about this series.

But basically very rough synopsis is, it's about a girl name Hannah Baker, who committed suicide and she left a series of tapes for each person who had "something to do with it", a series of stories and secrets that left her so empty and proved to her that her life wasn't important.

Reminder...me..... not suicidal.

We have all felt low.  We all have a story that no one knows about.  We all have skeletons.  We have all done things we aren't proud of. We have all lost someone.
We have.
It's apart of life.

My first real loss was in the 6th grade.  Vivian Staggs.  We were stationed in Germany at the time.  It was 2002.  And being on one of the biggest overseas bases meant most all the moms and dads were deployed, and that was no exception for Vivian or I.

We were 12.  Vivian and I met in counseling.  Ms. Hinson.
We went every single day for lunch.  I wore my father's Creighton sweatshirt every single day and Vivian would be there. We opened up to each other.  Her dad had been gone a lot longer than mine.  He was enlisted.  I remember Vivian's grades were slipping, and we would work on it together.  She wasn't the most popular.  She was kind of a nobody.  I don't actually remember her hanging out with anyone other than me.
The last time I remember seeing her was the end of the year ceremony at school.  She had received one of RAMS Best.  She was the most improved.  I remember her large lenses and her smile when she went up on stage to receive that award.  Her father was coming home in the next 2 weeks.  School was ending and my family was PCSing back to the states.
I knew, I was probably never going to see her again. I just didn't realize that never, really meant never.

We got the help we needed through the school, but Vivian's stepmom didn't.

Vivian's sister was suffocated.
She was 3.
Vivian...
Vivian was stabbed to death.
In the woods.
That's where they found them.
10 miles outside of the base.
She was 12.  
Her stepmom killed herself.
They had been missing for 3 days.

https://www.stripes.com/news/autopsy-reveals-airman-s-wife-suffocated-one-daughter-stabbed-other-1.10033#.WOQjSjvyu00


How does it get that bad.

It can.

I don't think I have ever stopped thinking about the person she was going to be or could have been.
It was 14 years ago. And I can still see her face.

Have you turned off Lord Huron's, The Night We Met...  
I haven't. Not yet. 

Like I said before.
The series was really good, and paints a picture that people don't want to talk about, or want to cover up, or not cover up.
And maybe you will get justice, or maybe you won't.  Maybe you feel guilt. Maybe you will try to forget.  Maybe if you don't worry about it or pretend it didn't happen, then it didn't.
Maybe people will make jokes and not realize.  And you laugh it off because you don't want them to know. Because you were only 19, and you shouldn't have been there anyways. And you fight with yourself and you drink too much and you start failing school because you trusted your professor and you had to move away but couldn't tell anyone why because you shouldn't have been at that party. You don't really remember.  It's all hypothetical, right.

Everyone has been through something.  You have to chose to make it through.

I have been hiding lately because things are bad.  I was let go from my job, dumped, lost my insurance, been to many many interviews with no leads, I can't sleep, I can barely eat.  I have felt like nothing. Like a burden.  But if I made it through 2003,  2010, 2013, and 2016; I can make it through 2017.


Just another bump in the road.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?
I'm not dead.

Comparing thee to a rose? I sure hope not.

Well...

Let's start of where this came about and, then I'll kind of run you through my thoughts here.

So the other night I was out with some friends.  I gave a group of future babes a ride home.  I say future babes because I am older than them which wasn't a huge deal other than I wish I could be them because they were hammered, and I was being responsible and feeling generous

 and anyways..

On the way to there destination, this girl says...

"Oh my God David (I really don't remember what his name was because it's not relevant so we will just say David) texted me and he totally thinks I have gotten way more attractive from the last time we dated. He was the best sex of my life, but he is totally a terrible person  Like what should I say."

Before anyone else could answer I immediately said..." say nothing."

She said, "what do you mean?"

I told her,
"You say absolutely nothing.  And here is why.  Do you value yourself as a person? What made him a terrible person? His response clearly makes him realize he has you, always has, and will continue to treat you that way.  Do you want that?"

She replies, "well no...."

I, then, say, "We accept the love we think we deserve.  If you let people treat you that way they will always treat you that way because you allow it.  Don't put up with it.  Someone in this world will value you as the person you are.  We all make sacrifices to chose love, but it depends on the sacrifice.  Sacrificing leaving your tooth brush in the tooth brush holder over the sink... that's a sacrifice you should make,  not sacrificing your quirkiness or your ability to care."

She began to tell me how when she grows up she wants to be me, which is absurd, but she was drunk texting her ex boyfriend, so that's where we were at.

I dropped them off left, thinking maybe I should be an Uber driver, and then thinking...

In majority of my past ...I was that drunk girl in my car.  Letting people decide what my value was.

I wasn't better than her...I was preaching to the whole gospel choir.

She was comparing this bro to a rose.

The premise of a rose is beautiful, gentle, fragile, slowly unfolding... blah blah blah.  When I should have seen that beauty is the petals.. a rose sucks.
It's pretty and that's about it.
It has atrocious thorns, and it takes over a whole garden, if not pruned.
A rose can be beautiful but if that's all you want; be a rose.

There will always be someone prettier.
There will always be someone funnier.
There will always be someone better at other things than you are.
There will always be someone nicer than you.
There will always be something.

The trick here is that when you are with someone and they realize there will never be another person that is you.
That is the goal of a relationship.  All things a side they pick you.

I'd rather be someones Gerbera Daisy than a rose anyways.

Cognitive Dissonance

Cognitive Dissonance: noun

the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change.

Today is a day that I cannot forget.

I am writing it so late because I wanted to make sure I knew what my thoughts meant and how I feel about today.

One year ago was the surgery that changed my life.

Today-

I was walking through the park with my love Lane, my beautiful dog, that has been their for me as an emotional support throughout my transformation.

As I spoke previously in regards to her, I picked out my Lane during the pinnacle of my break up with my ex that I was living with.

She was suppose to selfishly fill my void of love that I was no longer getting.

Which is crazy now that I think about it because I wasn't actually getting the love I desired/deserved any ways.

But anyways, we were walking through the park on this exquisite afternoon.

79 degrees, sunny, a light breeze; utter transcendence, especially for February.

I began to think about the trees and their existence. It was weird, so I stopped.

I thought about where I was this day last year. I was in a hospital bed.

I remember that this exact moment last year, I was in a hospital bed was so high on morphine that I knew the only thing I needed to do was press the bright green button to make things disappear.

Or at least help forget that I had a catheter in.

As I passed through the trees deep in my thoughts, I looked out on people there at the park. They were running, playing on the play ground, people were laying in hammocks, people were walking their dogs, and people were walking as a family with their babies in strollers.

I thought about them as individuals. Living souls. Students taking a break from class to enjoy a day that could have been stressful due to a test, a young girl going on a run desiring to be skinnier, a man reading on a table trying to find peace.

We all have something in common. We have all different frames of reference. We have all been through something. No one can look at me and see the road I have traveled.

People don't look at me and know my story. And I cannot look at these people and know their stories.

It's impossible.

I could nerd out and look at statistics and say the CDC says nearly 1 in 5 women have been raped so there was at least 5 of us there.

I could say according to the Cancer Research page 50% people will be diagnosed with cancer so that's, at least, 15 people there or someone they know.

Everyone has something. I remember when my biggest problem was, "does this shirt make me look fat"..

I fixate on other things to avoid this.

My favorite book in the whole world was my favorite book long before this. All of this.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower. (Not the movie. I don't even want to talk about that movie)

This book made me feel things that I can never put in my own words. I don't feel like I am clever enough to say the things I feel in a way that is poetic enough to draw justice to the actual feeling.

Through all my feelings today this is how I feel about where I am mentally,

"I think if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it won't change the fact that they are upset. And even if some one else has it much worse, that doesn't change the fact that you have what you have."

I no longer feel sorry for myself. I did for too long. I have for too long. I do wish things were simple again. Simple, back when walking through the park was a way to get to the swing set and I would just pump my legs up and down and no longer care if I didn't get the job, if he didn't call me back, if I didn't have bills to pay, if I didn't care that she didn't want to be my friend.

I wish that. But you can't go back.

They don't tell you what could happen because, people pray everywhere that it doesn't. But it does.

The best thing you can do is figure out how to swim against the rushing current and pray that you don't drown.

This day has changed me forever. I lost a part of myself, but in return I gained my life. I gained a perspective about others that I never knew existed and when you become less selfish you gain that.

I will never forget today. I will never forget how I felt. I will never forget how I feel. I will never forget what I learned. I will never forget who I lost. I won't ever forget not because I don't want to. It's because I can't forget.

Maybe it is sad that these are now memories. And maybe it's not sad. 

Trial and Error

Well, I did go see that new specialist.

I was absolutely gut-wrenching nervous all the way up until my appointment.

My original doctor, Dr. S, sent me to this new specialist to get a second opinion in regards to my "situation".

This new one seemed nice.  Understanding.   A real go-getter.

This is what happened:

I laid-back in this small office.  The "internal" examination was over and I was feeling more mortified than any other time before.
I was use to examinations.
But not that.
It was the quickest, most invasive exam I have ever had. Rattling off codes like, they are at a convenience store counting snacks.

Well finally the torture was over, the nurse and doctor left me to change.
At this point, I am fully-clothed, alone trying to salvage any piece of dignity I had left.

After several minutes the doctor and nurse return.
This new specialist had come up with a plan.. which has never happened before.
Awesome.  A plan.. finally.

Now, I can quit wondering around in circles hoping someone was going to pull me out of this bottomless chasm.  

She did say that this is all going to be trial and error. That the muscle is my main issue..  The scarring is secondary.  So for the muscle, she told me to think of it like a Charley Horse.  

....A what.  You are telling me that my muscle has been spasming or involuntary contracting for OVER A YEAR.  And there is nothing we can do about that part.  Nothing. Just let it do it's thing.  

A constant Charley Horse... for over a year.... She must be out of her mind.  

So this plan:

First, some kind of numbing trigger point injection shots to my lower abdomen. Cool.

Second, Pills to fix the nerve-endings.  Eh.. Skeptical..

Third,  More physical therapy to strengthen the muscle. Okay I guess the last 12 weeks didn't mean anything

Fourth, surgery to remove access scarring.  I knew this was coming.

So anyways, with the plan underway.. First things first.  A shot.

Well I thought it was going to be A shot. A as in one.  As in singular.  Well that my friend was not the case. 

14.  yes 1-4...10 plus 4  shots in my lower abdomen.  

This needle was no joke.  A concoction of medicinal potions to relax my trigger points.  

Looks like this:

My new doctor prepped the area with a copper-looking solution on the largest Q-tip I had ever seen.  

She covered the whole area a long my scar.   

This shot was supposed to relax the muscles to give me some kind of relief. 

The doctor told me it was time. 

The nurse grabbed my hand.  

As the first shot broke skin and entered my pelvic muscle I felt the water pour out of my eyes. 

I gripped the nurses hands harder.  I couldn't stop it. My ears were becoming clogged with my tears.

When they stopped, I had 10 shots on the left and 4 shots on the right.  They covered the injection points with a neon yellow, and neon orange bandage.
 As if I was going to forget what just happened by covering it up with the coolest bandages I had ever seen.

(I have never shown my scar before on here before today.) 

Those little dots are each an injection point. Cool, huh. 

The visit was over and I had to then proceed down the stair to the pharmacy, for phase Two.  Pills for the nerves.  Remember I had tried this other kind back in December or January that really messed me up... Remember? Well my specialist assured me that this was absolutely nothing like that at all.  

So I believe her...... like an idiot. 

She told me it was going to make me tired.

So I took one 30mg pill as instructed at 21:45-22:00.  It wasn't until 0330, that rest had found me.

I woke up the next morning to a phone call from my mother checking on me after my shots.  I couldn't move.  I don't even remember what we talked about.  I don't remember her coming over.  I don't remember how she got in. 

I don't remember anything.  My eyes were dilated. I felt like I had a lump in my throat. I was gagging and vomiting.  My body felt paralyzed.  

Not again.. not again.  

I called the nurse with no answer.  I emailed the doctor. No answer. 

I knew the only thing I could do is ride the storm out. 

I started to finally feel okay at 16:30.  I don't know what I would have done with out my mom. 

So, Now are still at a standstill. Now we have tried step one and two and they were both nothing but a trial and an error.

I am really trying to be hopeful but it is so hard when it is one fail at a time.  

I see Dr. S next week.  I am hoping for more answers.
I still will be hopeful.

If the sickness doesn't kill me, the medicine sure will. 

Another Day, Another Doctor

Well I have one more trip saved up to see Dr. B, the physical lady therapist.  We actually found that electrotherapy is working to decrease the pain for a few days, which is a complete turn around from the pain being every day.
See, I was supposed to go on  Friday for my last session, but naturally, due to my recent increase in age on Wednesday my body decided to get sick with streptococcus.

It sounds like a dinosaur.. Streptococcus

But I was on the rest of bed for  few days when, I realize that at the ripe age of 26, I cannot truly take care of myself in a healthful way when I am sick.

Which has become a regular thing with the uterus, the colds, the headaches, the chills, and the allergic reactions to everything.
I'm like a walking, breathing sickness. A ticking time bomb of disease waiting to ruin your week, your month, or even your year.

I was house-sitting for my lovely mother this weekend so she could go visit my pops in search of new land to purchase in CO.

After this weekend, like, we are lucky all cats, dogs, and I survived it.

I might have to move with my parents because this whole adult-thing when you have an illness, stacked on top of a disease is far beyond what any one person can handle alone.

So, as my trips to the doctors increase, the less I believe they know what they are doing.

Hear me out

When I went to the doctor about my Strep they prescribed me medicine that was "cousins" to a drug that I am highly-allergic to.

So I said Hey I am not trying to waste my time here.. is this safe for me to take, you're the doctor but I have a feeling that this isn't a good idea. 

They reassured me I would be fine...... blah blah blah.

And of course, I wasn't.  The medicine wasn't fully in my system until later that night and I started hiving-up and being all types of itchy. So, naturally, I had to take MORE pills to get rid of the adverse effects of the medicine.

Thursday due to all of this crap I had taken 9 pills total due to the doctor not listening to my concerns.

Rookie Move, Dr. C.

I am doing better from the Strep now, so I can tackle the next appointment up ahead.

Which is tomorrow.

I am meeting with a new specialist (That will be my 6th specialist this year) Dr. P to get a "second opinion", and she specializes in reconstructive surgery.

This will be my last surgery.  I will not keep doing this.  If this is the only way to fix it. Take it all.
I cannot keep living in this fear. Living in this pain.  I don't even feel like I am living anymore.  I am just in all this annoying pain all the time and it is annoying, for me and for everyone else.

I am losing everyone around me because I am no longer fun anymore.
It is driving me insane.
I hate this.
But I am hopeful for tomorrow. I am hopeful for some new answers.  I have been praying like crazy hoping for something to give.
I'll remain hopeful.

Yearly- Can we switch this to monthly?

I had my scheduled yearly today.
Not that we couldn't have done it the other 50 times I had been there this year.


But naturally, I had missed my beautiful gynecologist, so I didn't object.


It has been one month since my 3 week post-op appointment. 
I was afraid they forgot what my face looked like.  
They didn't.


I scheduled my appointment early because I was feeling 9:15am, a month ago.
This morning, I was not feeling it. 


I woke up at 8:30 and started rushing around because I was less than prepared for anyone to see what was under my very comfortable leopard print pajama bottoms.


I don't even understand why I wear those bottoms. They always make me sweat an uncomfortable amount when I wake up. 


Anyways, I had to dry shave my legs because I was not trying to have Dr. S think I am careless like all of the other patients she has. 
I figured it's like a jubilant surprise to see my young sporty body in comparison to the over-weight, overly hairy yetis that I have seen walk through those doors.
I'm sure they are all very lovely people.


I arrived on time because my loving father let me borrow his vehicle to take the turnpike.  I really need to invest in a pass but, I just come up with too many excuses to break down and get one.
Regardless, I made it on time.  I had to park a mile away because, I have a very tough time parking his vehicle.  It's so large and I normally drive Betty White and she is indestructible and my father can be terrifying so, I would rather keep his objects safer than mine.


Well after my mile, fast-paced walk, and an elevator ride, I made it. 
I didn't even have to sign in.


They took my weight, which I could have told them what it was.  I weigh myself every day. 126. I haven't grown.  I did go to the bathroom before I walked in which was a shame because I had to give a sample.  So I ran some water and sang, Don't go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and lakes you're used to I know your going to have to your way or nothing at all but I think you're moving too fast, to myself and then magic happened.


They put me back in the room with the horrible picture of a red flower, which in my opinion just looks like an angry vagina.  It makes me have really bad anxiety. Like why would you put that in there.  It's not even like a really great painting. I just don't understand why you would have a red themed room at a gynecology office.


I finally am alone to take my clothes off, all of this time. No shirt allowed. I got this paper vest that I like to wear the opening in the back.  It makes me feel sexy with an exposed back, yet not too sexy because it's a paper shirt.


Dr. S comes on in and sits on the counter and we discuss some medical stuff and then she says to me,


Kelsey, we need to talk....Your blog.  I heard.... you feel broken?  You aren't broken. Just because you don't have your tubes doesn't make you less.  You are still desirable. You will find someone who is willing to take you for all of you.  I know it is hard to do this alone but you are so strong.


I stared at her.


I started tearing up, yet doing my best to hid it.
I have, literally, trusted this woman with my life.
And she told me things that I have heard from so many people. But coming from her was something so life changing.
Maybe it's because she has seen my everything, maybe it's because she has literally cut me open and seen my insides,  maybe it's because she would call me on the weekends when I was so sick to check on me, or maybe it's a combination of everything but, she threw me through a loop.


I was speechless.


She gave me a giant hug.
I needed that hug.  I needed those words from her.


I was so caught up in my feelings that I didn't even realize I was hugging her with only a very thin sheet between her and my nakedness.  
I didn't even care. 


It's so strange how the human mind works.


 My family tells me all the time how beautiful and special I am, and mainly I never consider this because I feel, maybe, they feel an obligation to make me feel better.  And random guys tell me I am pretty but 92% of the time it is because it is their feeble attempt to see me naked.


But, Dr. S; She didn't have to say that. She didn't have to reach out. She has so many other patients, and she actually cares how I view myself.


I'll never forget that moment.


As I was leaving, I said goodbye to everyone and told them I will see them in a year.
They told me they would miss me.




And I knew I would actually miss seeing them too. 

Building a Wall Out of Tire Parts and Sticky Tape: The Alff Presentation

I mentioned a long time ago that I began this blog initially for this blogging class I am currently enrolled in.

It has obviously turned into something way bigger than that but, I still mentioned it.  That did happen.

Well part of the "criteria" we have to talk about our presentation in this class and our "blog adoption".


I ended up doing this adoption over Shawn Alff,  who I am pretty sure is the only man I know that can pull-off a leopard print thong, and still be one of the sexiest people I have ever seen.

The adoption, also, gave me a reason to genuinely stalk this guy, in a way that would get me less likely to be arrested, and more likely be able to find out everything in the world about this person, minus his social security number, and his address.

I am still working on his address.

I think the girl on the right has very nice butt. 

But outside his charming demeanor and super hot bod,  he is one of the best writers I have ever seen.

I ended up writing a 2,500+ word, thoroughly thought out paper over this guy.  It's almost embarrassing, and more than moderately creepy.

He doesn't hate it though.
He did tell me, if need be,  I could write his relationship profile because, let's just say, I was selling him like I was giving away free water at Wakarusa.

I knew I was a good wingman, and an even better, twat-swat to myself.

I was going to attach the paper, which I know is going to be way too long for my blog, BUT it's, also, one of the best papers I have ever written because, Shawn actually gave me most of the material, and was the easiest subject to write about.

But it really is too long, but if you want to read it, I will send it to you, or I will come to where you are and give you the presentation.  I mean this paper is nine pages double-spaced.

I clearly have no self-control.

The powerpoint is so good, too.   Here is a picture of us.

Shawn and I

But see, also, I waited to write about him because today is his birthday and he told me that he never really has an amazing birthday, which makes me sad because I am not there to throw confetti or like make a pudding bath out of gluten-free pudding because I don't want to waste good pudding.

He's writing is not only funny but it puts on display his every fear and insecurity, which resonates with so many people.

You can read his stuff at www.shawnalff.com

You won't regret it.
I surely didn't.

The Ex Files: Part Two: Mr. Dick

We dated for a long time... off and on for the better half of three years.  That doesn't include the 10 months at the beginning when, I had to trick him into dating me.

That's a thing I do, by the way.  If you don't want to date me, I will hang out until I wear you down and then, the next thing we are together.

The first time I met him I had just gotten back from Spring Break my freshman year from Florida with my family.  I was talking to this guy while I was gone and he invited me over to his friend's house and that's when I saw this gorgeous creature. 
I hung out with my girl friend  over there for an hour or so and then we headed to a party. 
I couldn't stop thinking about that blonde haired, blue eyed master piece. 
So I got drunk and went back over to hang out with him.
I was 19 at the time and they wanted to go to the bar.
So the first time we kissed I was drinking underage at a bar.
This was, also, the first time I had ever drank at a bar.

I was living in a different town, but he would make the effort to come see me.
Once he surprised me at my dorm.  Tackled me to the ground and I cried.
 
We had so many adventures together.

He was the best boyfriend I had ever had.
He was my biggest supporter, and cheerleader.
I was so in love with him.

Fireworks, holidays with our families, birthdays, ski trips, the aquarium, spontaneous trips to Amarillo, going to the lake, waking up in the middle of the night singing to John Mayer and Something Corporate, snow dayss, my car wreck, bingo. So many memories. 

Which it has been 4 years since we have been together, and the montage of events of us are always similar to the memories Facebook shows me which, are all the good times.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that it all really happened. 

They weren't all good. 

I was so insecure in our relationship.  I use to go through his phone because I didn't trust him. 
Things would happen, and he would disappear for days and I couldn't understand what was happening.

We were growing up but something wasn't right.  We were grow-up but growing apart.
It was so strange.

It was like a train wreck that I could see coming but couldn't stop or get out of the way from. 
 
It wasn't later that I found out there was a substance issue that destroyed him, and us.

I didn't know what was going on and I tried to tell him we were falling apart but things ended up bad,  I left him for one of his "best friends".

I am a terrible girlfriend.  You were warned. 

Years later, he turned his whole life around.  He is an amazing person.  He needed away from all of this.  I loved him, and I still have so much love for him.

Last I heard he has a beautiful girlfriend and treats her how I wish I could have been treated for the last year of our relationship.  I am very proud of him, and hope he knows I am still hoping the best for him.

 I haven't heard from him since 2014 but, maybe that's for the best for both of us.

I still tear up when I hear Dig by Incubus, if I can make it through the first 30 seconds.

Trip To The Vagina Doctor

In honor of going to see my gynecologist over 15 times in the last 5 months; let's talk about the dreaded adventures to the vagina doctor.

 Going to see your OBGYN is the most terrifying, required adventure on earth.

Once a year, if you are lucky to only go once a year, as a woman, you are required to go see this man, or woman that you pay to violate you.

For science.

I remember my very first adventure to see the gynecologist.  I was 17 years old.  I wanted to start taking birth control because, back when I use to  bleed once a month, it use to be the worst experience of my whole.

It was like a real life murder.  From the inside out. All of my insides hated me and I would have to get into this fetal position and pray to all things that were holy that I was going to go to church more, if Jesus would just take the pain away.

He didn't, so I had to go see this woman about some pills.

I wasn't ready for a man to analyze what I had to work with.
I still didn't exactly know what I was doing with it anyways, so no need for a man to stare at it and professionally tell me about my downstairs business.

I can't for the life of me remember her name, but she was a military doctor.  She was tall, dark, and handsome.  She was my commentator, and coach.  She would tell me what she was doing when she was doing it, and then would tell me how good of a job I was doing.

I wasn't doing anything, other than staring up at this poster of a beach to tell me to escape to somewhere else and to make sure I never made eye contact with her.

It was anything but enjoyable.

Nowadays, I am a lot less awkward about it.

I have since been to multiple doctors to see my business.  
And I love my current one now.  I trust her with all my goods.

I can't say I am still not awkward about it.

How could you not be.

My post-operation meeting was last Tuesday, and it went really well.  Everything is going according to plan.
Minus the whole fact that my scar tissue is not going to go down.  She told me that I could go to a plastic surgeon to fix it.

This news did cause me to go into a full on panic attack because this is my worst nightmare.
She basically told me that this "cliff" I have on my stomach is
PERMANENT.

I would never see a plastic surgeon for my stomach. I would go for some better like boobs or bigger lips, but not a tummy tuck.  They called it a mommy tuck.

A mommy tuck.

What the hell kind of shit is that.  

I guess I am going to start looking for high-waisted bikini bottoms.  This is bullshit.

Cut me some slack body.
Haven't I made enough sacrifices? 

Poop Diaries

I sit here thinking about all the things that have compiled to this very moment.

We forget about all of the things that have become second nature to us. Like breathing, walking, talking, using the bathroom, etc, these things become trivial things until it's no longer a thing we can do alone or with out duress.

Sitting up has been my most painful feat, minus the attempts to number 2 all day.

If I push will the stitches rip and all my insides come tumbling down like Jack and Jill, and their precious water.
Then what.
I have to explain my tears and tears are from trying to shit.

This is less than an ideal situation.

I could approach it like I just need to play 57 games of Sudoku; that putting my mind to an ultimate mind-numbing activity will coerce my body to oblige with my every wish.

Or

I could use the Ole birthing techniques; inhale, exhale and push. That would surely end in my pulling something that I could not simply push back into place. 

No, no it must be a mixture of both.
A distraction from my own pain companied by my own infliction and limitations.

Wish me luck.