Progress, Preparation, and Homemade Kamikazes

So life has returned to a relative normal state.

I am down to going to the doctors once a week to once ever other week, with one of my doctors and once a month with the other.

Yeah yeah yeah.
::does victory dance::

I mean it's pretty exciting.. in comparison to twice a week.

Dr. D she is my physical therapist now... and she told me that my pelvis is calming down...
Goals.  You have to love it when your doctor can track your pelvic muscle on a computer.

I am supposed to go "potty" with a stool now like a 6 year old's who feet can reach the floor...

This is real.  I don't have a stool though.  It really doesn't go with my bathroom decor.  So instead I just try to prop my feet up on the tub, a stall door, toilet paper holder, the wall; really anything that's readily available to me.

You are welcome for that killer visual. 

The shame I have ever had for talking about anything to do with my body is completely gone.
I might still be uncomfortable with the way I look or other things in regards to my physical appearance but, what happens to my body due to this...
Open book.

I don't want people to be scared to talk about what happens to their bodies because it is scary.  It's absolutely terrifying.  Especially when there is nothing about it out there.  People are too worried about what others will think.

Screw it.  This is me.

Here is a minor update in the life of Ole Kels....

Doing real good with the big girl job.
Started seeing this pretty decent individual.
Going to Colorado with the Fam.
I still don't like wheat bread.
I got roofied recently.
My sister is getting married in less than a month.
And I have to make a speech at it...

Okay I might need to address this real quick

So.. I have to give a speech at this wedding.. okay totally cool.. I get it.. It comes with the whole Maid of Honor thing but.... BUT...

I am absolutely horrendous at public speaking..

I black out.. I say even more embarrassing things than I originally was going to do...

and sometimes... just sometimes.. I vomit...

I failed public speaking. And I retook the class and made a D.. this is where we are at.

And yes, I know I can write it down and that would be fine but...

I am dyslexic...  I will butcher the shit out of this speech in a way that will be talked about

for years to come. I literally have no idea what I am going to say either..

Should I start off with a joke? 

How many of ya'll slept with the groom or bride raise your hands?!

No... that would be one step too far. 

Should I make it super serious?

Loving, Giving, Receiving, Sacrifice are components to a lasting relationship.

I mean that is some good stuff but I want them to know it's coming from me not something I found off a Wedding Card from Hallmark. 

Or I could just talk about the first time she helped me put in a tampon.  

It's fine I will figure it out..

Well this concludes another episode of into Kelsey's mind...

My bad, ya'll my bad.

I Might Be Losing It

It's been a little over a month since I have last addressed anything.

My life has gotten into a repetitious agenda, which is the most feared thing in most mid-20 year old's life.

The goals of my future life leave me determined and enraptured into my current lifestyle.

I did go see Dr. P on Tuesday for a morning dose of 17 shots this time around.  She doubled the numbing stuff, and went a little deeper.

And as invigorating as that sounds..it wasn't as refreshing as one would think.
Yet, I didn't cry this time so I feel like I might be growing up.

I have my next appointment with her in two months, which is moderately terrifying because the shots normally wear off around week 3...but I am sure they know what they are doing.

::does extreme eye roll, where it makes me vomit a little::

So one of the requirements before I go back to see Dr. P is to start going to see a counselor.

I am not good at seeing counselors.

All during my senior year of high school I had to see a counselor, and take pills because I was a problem child and my grades were slipping.

I was a rebellious 18 year old girl and I enjoyed the booze a little more than I should have.

I can't remember his name to save my life, but he was a roller derby coach.  Such a strange dude.
I liked him though.

All I did was cry when I went in there.

I am not good about vocalizing how I feel.  I could write a ten page paper about how my emotions compare to a piece of lint out of my favorite denim jeans.  But to talk about it is another story.  I end up tripping over my own words and crying.

And I don't even cry in an attractive way.  There is a lot of heavy breathing and my face swells up.  I have tried to hold back and do the cute single tear, but it never works out.  I end up with snot and mascara all over my face like I had a cold.

So I am nervous about do thing this.  Dr. P said, "I carry all my stress in my back and you carry all your stress in your "oven"......"

what.

She didn't say oven.. She was a bit more colorful. A lot more V's in the word.  It's fine.

I slightly believe this is a way to get away from the known fact that there is not a cure just ways to make life a little more comfortable.

And let me tell you... it's not.

She said she is trying to cleanse my mind, body, and soul.
Which in medical talk is Pills, Shots, and Therapists.

I am not an expert, but they are making me feel crazy.

I know it is healthy to get out what you feel and address the stressors with this form of treatment.  I know I have some pain there,  I know I still mentally hurt.

But I don't think she or he or whoever is going to change that.  I have thought about all of these things in my mind for a long time.

Or maybe it will change and I will magically be better and my pain will go away because the therapist, pills, and shots have up-lifted the pain from my oven and cleansed my body of all the stress, and I can feel normal.

Bring on the baking.
Yeah, I am definitely losing it.

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.

Buck-Up ButterCup

Alright... Listen... I have been on this rocky-road of emotions lately.

It's probably my "hypothetical" time of the month... I say hypothetical because I don't really get one of those anymore.... per se... I mean I still am an emotional roller-coaster during that time and things...happen....

I'll let you guess when it is... don't worry I don't know either.
I did have one boyfriend download the "P. Tracker" App... I think he was just as confused when I would cry and laugh all in the same 10 second span.
And he would plead,

"ITS NOT EVEN TIME YET!"

It's fine.
Anyways,  I noticed I get really down about things when I am stressed out.  And telling me to stop stressing out, stresses me out more.

It's like a never-ending circle of awful for myself.

I have gotten a little less crazy with the stress... like I don't pull my eyelashes out anymore... so that's cool.  Well I try not to...

(By the way that's why I wear false eyelashes, sometimes, because it consciously makes me not do it)

Through this new bout of stress, I want to address something.

I have an amazing life.

I really do.  I am doing very well with my job for an amazing company.  I just moved into a house not too long ago.  I just bought a car.  I have an amazing family.  I have a wonderful dog,  And I have some good close friends.

I have so much to be thankful for.

Everyone goes through something.

I do have to go to the doctor all the time which is a little unfortunate, but
I am still breathing.  I could be the opposite of that.
(I'm not trying to jinx myself here)

I get down about trivial things all the time.  But I have to remind myself.

Why? Why are you letting that effect you?

It's easier said than done.

My favorite thing to do is think about the good times, think about plans I have made.. and the goals I have for myself.

If I let the darkness of self-pity run my life, I would kill myself.
I am so much better than that.
I have too much to offer.

Do I love waking up in pain every day? No, I don't love that.
Do I love that I can't get a date because I can't have a family? No, I don't love that. 
Do I love that I have and my family have spent thousands of dollars on medical bills with no change in getting better? No, I don't love that.
Do I love that I cry over stupid things because I can't get my emotions under-control from the hormones I have to take? No, I don't love that.

But I do love waking up every day. And I do love myself despite the flaws.  And I do love my family.
I know the pain gets hard.  I know, God I know.
I wouldn't wish this kind of pain physical or mental on my worst enemy.

But what makes all of this worth it, is the person I have become from it.

I slip up sometimes and have a little too much to drink and cry a lot and I do mean  A LOT.
And call everyone in my family to hear my tears of self-loathing.
But I am trying.

I am finding my way in these twist and turns of fate.
I never thought in a million years would happen to me. 
I would have never guessed it.

And the hardest part of it all is forgiveness.
I am struggling the most with forgiving myself.

I blame myself for this happening. That I went wrong somewhere and that I deserve it.

I have to remind myself when I feel in doubt,

You are good enough.  This is not your fault.  You are strong. 

If I say it enough to myself, I'll believe it.

I feel like I am getting close.

The main thing that gives me hope, and should give you hope is:

You were put on this earth for a reason, find out that reason.  You are handed all these things in life because you are one of the strong ones. You should view this as a challenge and challenge accepted.


Remember that. Never give up hope.

New Wound, Same Scars

At a young age I understood the obsession with physical perfection.

Who didn't want to look like the models.  We all do, whether we admit it or not. 

My fear of weight gain took a toll on me significantly during my early high school years. 

I would eat my body weight in food and quickly leave the table to my lonely secrets of purge and discontent. My family would unknowingly joke of my disappearance, and little did they know they were right.

I got over this on my own and became accepted to what I had to look at.  

Then, 2013 hit and I was in a "comfortable" relationship.....filled with passion and love.

That last part is a very obvious joke. 

My every insecurity was presented like a well-received award through the lack of passion and intimacy. 

The comments of disapproval and dissatisfaction reinforced my fears.  If he didn't love me then how could anyone else. I believed that to be true.

When I left, I began to rebuild like that last, cheesy scene in San Andreas...

Two years later I found myself in a weird position, where I get diagnosed with this weird... thing..

It's not an illness,  I don't want to say it's a disease, and I am not "sick" .. so thing..

**Insert all post to this point***

And now I am here. I am just here. 

I am working on this insecurity but I am having a really tough time with what I have to deal with now. 

I am so worried that when I take my clothes off, and the person I am with will look at me....

and think....

Show me the Carfax.

Why do I want this model when I can have one without all the damage. One without all the problems.

I seriously, true to God, thought I found that.  

I thought that's what I had. 

And I know that I am over thinking this when I say it..

...but what if that's why. Not the explained why but the rudimentary rationale. 

A part of me after years of this profound insecurity has reinforced this fear. 

How long does it take to unlearn that. 

It is ruining my sleep.

It is ruining my dreams.

It is ruining my thoughts.

It is ruining everything. 

HAPPY(?) ONE YEAR

Congratulation to myself. 

 And I do not mean that sarcastically.  Seriously.

I have now known for an entire year more about myself than I ever thought I could.  

Things that I never would have guessed about myself. 

I am beyond cool with my body at this point.  I have always been a heterosexual female, but I have definitely in the last year had more woman look at my naked body than anyone else.  

I did actually venture out of my comfort zone and I had a boyfriend for a brief period of time.  Which of course #noregrats not even 3 months. 

Still a little bit of a flesh-wound 

But in other news, 

I am literally pelvis deep into my physical therapy.  

I go two times a week still, for my personal training of my pelvic floor.

No weights necessary. 

It's still very weird.  It gets a little better in the aspect of you know what is going to happen but that doesn't really mean you want it to, so at least you are mentally prepared....::shrugs shoulders::

But I really feel like I need to watch the news more to have more things to talk about with Dr.B.  I mean the last thing on earth I want to happen while she is making sure those muscle are mobile, is for us to run out of things to talk about.

She is no Dr. S,but you could say things are getting pretty serious with us.

There have been a few times were she is making sure I am doing things right.  No I don't want to talk about it.

But.

I will say the biggest change I have seen is my external scar decreasing.

It's by no means gone, but the change has been significant, which moderately boost my self-esteem. 

moderately. 

I am still not going to show anyone.  

I wore a one piece this summer that was way too small for my body in front of my family to make sure no one saw it.

I doubt I will ever really get there with that one.

The pain has been less frequent as well.  Which is the largest plus of all. The determination has been that the scar tissue itself is the the "true" culprit, so we could  have another surgery. 

A surgery. 

Another one. 

I'm like the DJ Khaled of woman's heath surgeries... 

 

I am hoping by my last visit on October 21st that I will be much better and there will be no need of 

Another one.