Anna...Yea, I'm having a
blast alright (if I'm lucky after Linzess 290) but it's the kind that causes cramps, tears, and pleas for death! TMI, but I have to stay up close and personal with the porcelain pony (mornings) If it's going to happen, it's fast and furious, explosive and liquid...take no prisoners, DONE! Of course, most days the med doesn't work, so I have to take the dreaded enema. I'm not talking the petite little bottle from Walgreens, I'm talking big red hot water bottle size (repeated) The warm water of the enema can't reach the "kink" in my left side, so...Fucked if I do, fucked if I don't. I'm either shooting water out my asshole or up my asshole. Gross imagery and uncouth language. Sorry, peeps.
I just don't understand why the FUCK a colon surgeon can't remove the kinked section and resect, plus lyse a fuck ton of adhesions. It should have been done in 1994, when my oncologist laid me open (stem to stern) and gutted me. I don't think my surgeon thought I'd survive the extent of endometriosis removal (from every organ). He told me years later (hindsight) he had little hope for my recovery once he got inside my belly and saw the horror. He feared that resecting my colon would be the kiss of death. Well, now the only surgeon who ever had the balls to HELP ME is dead.
Dixiquitcherbellyachin'...k? Rant over for now.
Anna...On a serious note about your SCS, I wish your doctor had been more honest with you. I know you'd hoped it would lessen if not alleviate the need for your oral pain meds. Truth, as I have observed, is that's just not the case. It is somewhat successful as an adjunct to meds, but folks I've talked to have been less than impressed with results. I'm not trying to be a negative ninny, as I have the highest hopes for your SCS success. Just be kind to yourself, less hard on second-guessing yourself.
RTP...Happy to hear you have good friends to spend time with, along with sweetchild and playmates. It's therapeutic to get out and about, engage with others, talk, laugh...and cry. I view a good ole UGLY CRY as a way to purge pent up feelings of pain, hopelessness, grief and despair. I keep the façade of strength (the firewall) around colleagues and family. My family doesn't give a shit...just so I make things happen...get it done.
BTW...The movie "Cake" was a far cry from reality, IME. It did not come close to portraying my reality with pain. How about you?
I am thankful for my husband's strength and support. My family is filled with users and takers, yet emotionally constipated. I don't dare fall to my knees crying for help from them. They're too busy lining up for a free ride on my broken back! Example: My oldest brother and sister refuse to speak to me since May of last year. Why? Because for the first time in my life I said NO to them. They wanted me (and hubby) to host a weekend filled with festivities for Mother's Day for my mom. As per usual, they expected my house to be the Bed & Breakfast...lunch and dinner.
I've done this many times before, leaving me bedridden for a week afterwards. They know that I only ask that we keep the schedule the same, which is the week of Memorial Day and the week after Thanksgiving. Twice a year to host 20+ people, who act as guests (not helping) is more than generous IMO. Those dates are set so that each family can do their own thing for major holidays, yet we can get together for a few days twice a year. It gives me time to plan, shop extensively, prepare/freeze foods in advance, ready the house/land for their critique. Hell, I've even booked their flights and driven them to/from airports (1.5 hrs one way) My husband and I sacrifice even our master suite, and we sleep in the floor of the den.
Well, apparently my schedule didn't work for them last year. They informed me on May 1st they'd be here on the 10th, so we could all "be together for Mother's Day". WTF? Why now? You've never celebrated with my mom, not even her birthday. Truth is, it wasn't for "mom". They had made other plans for Memorial Day (my schedule to host) and basically expected me to SUCK IT...accommodate them and their schedule. Unfortunately for them, I was trying to survive a 6 week trial of Fentanyl. It had not gone well and I was weaning myself off...night sweats, night terrors, nausea and all that fun stuff. I told them NO, I WASN'T ABLE to host 3 weeks early. Fuck, I wasn't ABLE to host Memorial Weekend, but I don't cancel...ever. I explained my situation, which I shouldn't have to. Because I look perfectly fine via smoke and mirrors (make-up, salon, style)...
nothing's wrong with me! Side note: Any one of them can fart and self-diagnose stomach cancer.
Anyway, I stuck to my guns of Memorial Weekend as planned or nothing, told them NO for Mother's Day.
They haven't called or texted since May 1, 2014...soon to be a year. Sad, but true. My mom's 90th birthday will be on May 1st. I will do as I have done for every birthday of the 10 years she's been in the nursing home (by myself). I will bake a ginormous sheet cake with fresh strawberries and cool whip. I will serve it (by myself) to 30+ residents in the dining hall to celebrate. It's on Sunday this year, so my dear hubby will go down and help me. Mom won't be able to come to the dining hall this year because she has gone from her walker to a wheelchair to a gerri-chair, and now bedridden. I found her recently with her bed soiled, and feces all over her hands that had dried. I went ballistic on staff, admin, and corporate. Then, as always, I threw up in the parking lot. Good times.
closeau... I hope the prospect for better housing works out for you today. The place you're staying sounds like a fucking circus with no ringmaster. Those people sound like parasites. They're feeding on your kindness and good will. Jeez, I wish you'd never had to move into that place, but I know you had little choice at the time. You know this, but you should never "give in" to folks like them. Once will never be enough. You need to protect yourself and set personal boundaries. Motherfucker wouldn't be waking me up at 3 a.m. without sirens in the distance (in one form or another). I will help anybody, but will no longer be used by anyone.
Y'all wanna join us for Memorial Weekend? Our schedule has opened up. We won't be hosting family, since we're not speaking. It's their loss. Y'all come...if only in your minds. Mindfulness and visualization can transport you to another place. Why not Mississippi?
Picture this: Our back deck is filled with beefy Adirondack chairs and a table that seats 8. There's a fire pit encircled by huge rocks/stones we collected from 3 states. There are benches on 3 sides of the fire pit, with a rusty tin roofed Adirondack swing. To the left is a big garden pond surrounded by stacked stones, with a 3 tier waterfall. Old bourbon barrels, rusty farm implements and Coke signage are surrounded by Black-Eyed Susan flowers that will burst into golden yellow blooms by then. The Confederate Jasmine on the arbor/picket fence leading into the "wagon yard" is just budding. Soon it will be covered in delicate white blooms that smell sweeter than Gardenias. There's an old wooden wagon beyond with 100 year old wooden wheels (painted red) It has the metal hoops that would have made it a covered wagon (without canvas). We have horseshoe targets set up beneath the River Birch, where the sun dapples through the shade. Our corrugated tin barn sits to the left, with complete privacy around the entire acreage.
Imagine the fun we PAIN PEEPS could share if our pain were "managed". We have a direct connection to some of the BEST (homemade)apple pie moonshine that ever touched your lips. It's so smooth, it's effect slips up on you. Hubby would fire up the smoker with oak wood and slow cook some Boston Butts, chicken breasts, chuck burgers and sausages. We'd throw horseshoes and play with the Dalmatians while we waited for food to cook. We'd have all the fixins and amenities for the savory meal. Everyone could serve themselves and find a place to sit beneath the strings of Edison lights draped across the sky of the deck. We'd eat, listen to music, dance, talk, joke and laugh until we cried. Anna, can you bring some of your heavily herbed sweetness to make our s'mores over the fire pit more chillaxing?
No worries, folks. It's for the most part handicap accessible. We built it that way so my mom could navigate years ago. She loved a wiener roast with sauerkraut cooking on the open fire.
Shouts out to KM13, SKR, Steph, Shroomi, SK etal CP Peeps...Please update, whether it's good or bad or ugly...We're all tough sumbeeches. We can take it...if we ban together and support one another.
but the younger kids were arguing & Steph was yelling at them to be silent. 
