Revenge of the Digestion System and Changes

When I posted on Facebook that I was going to have my gallbladder removed everyone told me how great I was going to feel. So much better! I have friends who have had it done and they all gave me good post surgery tips and talked about changes they made.

Cool.

I'm like two weeks out from my surgery and you know how I feel?

AWFUL.

I am nauseous ALL of the time. I have had the worst heartburn of my life and my Omeprazole isn't doing squat for it. I ate an entire bottle of Tums over the course of a day and no relief. The idea of food and eating it makes me want to throw up. I have been trying to eat toast, maybe a handful of grapes, some saltine crackers and all of it makes me want to throw up.

Even better?

It doesn't matter what I eat or how very little of it I have, I will have diarrhea. Not just regular, this is inconvenient diarrhea, but it is painful. The cramping is painful, too.

I did go to the surgeon follow up and I didn't meet with him, I met with one of his PA's, and she didn't seem concerned at all. Which... I can't imagine this is normal. Seriously, I cannot live like this. The closest comparison I have to this is morning sickness but EXTREME.

I am so tired and physically weak because I'm not getting enough nutrition but I cannot stomach anything. I messaged my gastroenterologist to ask for help. I see him at the end of March but I am going on that Washington D.C/New York City trip with Olivia (I'll post more about it next week) and I can't imagine going on that trip like this. I can't even run to Target without making several bathroom trips and then breathing and counting randomly so I don't throw up on the floor.

It's bad. So that's how my recovery is going.

***

Really big news that has come (literally) out of left field: we are moving.

I know, didn't see that coming, did you? I haven't talked about it much because I'm still just trying to process it myself, but my parents have moved to Florida to care for my grandparents. It is no secret that since my AFE things have been financially tight. To give you a better idea, when I had my AFE we had less than $5K in debt that wasn't a vehicle or house. It wasn't bad at all and we assumed I'd be going to work so it was manageable. Once it was clear that things weren't going to be the same and I wasn't going to work, we got a little nervous.

We were lucky to have a GoFundMe account and that is what kept us from losing our house because those first six months Matt was working sporadically between helping me at home, taking care of kids, getting me to appointments, etc. If you aren't working, your paychecks aren't covering the bills. We used that money to basically float us for six months. We never planned on me having disabilities, seeing so many specialists and having all kinds of tests, trying new medications and it being a never ending cycle. For the last three years when I say we are barely getting by, I am not kidding. We are in debt up to our eyeballs and the only solution right now is to plug the holes in the boat.

Our house is a hole in the boat.

Not only can we no longer (realistically) afford it right now, but our house is big. I mean, it looks big, but if you walk up and down the stairs all day? Exhausting for a healthy person. I am no longer capable of cleaning it. I can't take care of things. Some mornings I can barely get down the stairs when I wake up. It's just too much.

But let me be clear, I don't love this house. It wasn't going to be our forever home. It was really just to get us through raising the kids and then we would downgrade. Even though I'm not in love with this home, I'm really sad to move. I'm sad because we are moving to a home that is half the size, maybe even less. Six people = one bathroom. I feel like we're all being punished because I got sick. It's all my fault we're in this predicament and I feel guilty as hell. I know it isn't rational and we're here whether I feel guilty or not. I am scared that we're not seeing a larger consequence later on down the road. I trust Matt wholeheartedly and when he says this is what we're doing, this is what we're doing.

So where are we going?

We're moving into my parent's old home. I grew up there from age 14 and up. The house has sentimental value and the thought of someone else living there really bothers me, so I guess on the bright side I won't have to navigate those feelings right now. We will be saving a TON of money each month to apply towards debt. It does feel like a weight is lifted, like we're going to move forward again. We've got five years to get the debt under control and then we can either buy the house or we can move somewhere else. It's all kind of up in the air and if you know me, not having a concrete, permanent home base is terrifying for me. As a kid I really hated moving and it never made me feel secure. I worry that I'm doing this to myself now but also to my kids.

Fortunately, the only changes they'll have is a different bus stop. I'm not sure when we'll be IN that house because Matt has to build a bedroom for him and I (the house is only a 3 bedroom) in the basement, and then we'll start moving things over. We'll have a few things to fix here before we can list our house and hope it sells quickly.

I don't know if you are the praying type or just the kind who sends positive thoughts, but we would take any and all of it. I'm really feeling anxious, scared, and uncertain. I know all of it is my own issues and I'm going to do the best I can to make this move not a pain in the ass but also be kind to the kids. Olivia and Jackson really aren't thrilled, and Penelope and Lucy are so worried we won't be bringing their toys, stuffed animals, books, clothes, etc. The concept of moving is totally foreign to them and not Lucy so much but Penelope looks scared and I feel really terrible. That somehow my body has failed us all and its my fault they are sad/mad/scared.

Sigh.

So that's the scoop.

It's going to be OK. It can always be worse. I am thankful we will have a home. I am thankful we have family who help us out. I am thankful to have friends who have already told us they will help us in any way. I am thankful for my therapist who starting next week is going to see me have panic attacks during sessions again. I am sure she has missed them. HA!

Book progress.. this is daunting.

I've never done anything super ambitious in my life, something that requires a lot of patience, time, and work. I mean, I guess growing four humans is a thing, but aside from that, I've got nothing.

Well, nothing I can remember anyways.

I've been doing some journaling, and every once in awhile I start working on what I think might be my book about AFE and the aftermath, but then I get overwhelmed. Everyone tells me to just write- it'll come. Which, I guess that might be helpful to them but for me it's just not that easy. I used to blog and just do it, words would just come out and without any effort at all, I could make people feel something. Now I feel like.. it's just not there. Like that part of my brain isn't firing on all cylinders. I want people to read the book and feel a gut punch. Feel like you are right there with me on what have been my lowest, most private moments. There have been so many things I have wanted to blog about, share on Facebook, tell someone, and I just haven't. In my head I'm saving them for the book but I'm scared to put it all out there.

Then I think, well, a total stranger isn't going to fully understand how far I have fallen if they don't know where I was. So then I feel like I need to explain where I was, what kind of person I was, and that really is the only way someone can appreciate what my reality is now. I also think, I kind of have to explain my marriage and why it is the way it is.. otherwise me screaming at the nurses how dare Matt do this to me, after everything I've been through with his sorry ass!, won't really make any sense, will it?

I just feel like I have a lot of story and so little room to give it, if that makes sense.

So in the meantime, I have been sorting medical records. I separated out my actual hospital stay into one pile and the rest into the specialists I've seen. I'm slowly going through each pile, highlighting things I want to remember (or more realistically, refer back to because we know damn well I won't remember) and it's a very daunting task. I've learned some new things that I didn't know (or at least remember) and I'm trying to come up with a list of questions to ask my OB and anesthesiologist because they have both told me I can ask anything, anytime. So that is really great.

The worst though, by far, has been reading my mental health records. That is not for the faint of heart and unless you really want to know what your therapist thinks about you after you cry hysterically on the couch for 60-90 minutes, DON'T DO IT. Ugh. I had to stop but I know I need to go back to them. A lot of holes in my timeline will get filled by reading those because I know I've been brutally honest with her. All of the awful, dark, scary things I'm too scared to tell Matt or my family have happened in there. And it should be in the book. People, I don't think, understand what a toll this takes on a person. I consider myself to be a fairly logical, strong, common sense bearing person and if something like this could take me down? What would it do to someone who wasn't these things?

So there's that. Also new, well developing over the last few months, is this super fun rash on my face. On the left is my face, right away in the morning, no makeup or anything. On the right is my attempt at covering it up. I have this fun rash that has started on one cheek and is slowly creeping over my nose to the other side, and it feels kind of like a sunburn. Some days it's worse than others and it was noted in my file for the rheumatologist because it could be a sign of lupus. Which, that's exciting.

(Sarcasm.)

I go on Friday to that doctor and I'm kind of nervous about it. I'm sure it'll be all questions, maybe some labs, but I 100% do not think I'm walking out of there with any kind of diagnosis. It's thought that all of my issues have got to be an auto-immune thing because nobody else knows so I'm shipped off to the next specialist. I keep saying there should be some kind of punch card system and once I hit 10 doctors I get a prize or something.

I also see my pulmonary doctor on Wednesday and I can't really remember anything about him but in my notes I wrote that I really like him and he's super nice. So there's that. I'm going in with questions for him as well.

But today I see my therapist. I go every other week and honestly, she's so great and keeps me off the ledge, literally. I've said (quite a few times this week) that had I not started seeing her last November or December (whenever it was), I would have killed myself already. She is worth every dollar my insurance is paying for, which I'll be paying for come January. It's been a rough last week so I'm anxious for my appointment.

Summer is almost over. Ready and not ready.

The fun thing about short term memory loss and all of my other cognitive issues is that I have no sense of time. I know, lots of you are gearing up to say, "Oh I have that problem too!" and stop. Just stop. I also had that issue pre-AFE but I'm telling you as someone on both sides of it that this is vastly different. For me the months and seasons go by and I'm constantly surprised by it, but then I can't remember anything. And again, it isn't anything like the memory loss you're thinking about, huge chunks of my life are gone completely. I can't even explain it enough to do it justice but I am certain I took for granted my ability to remember stupid things and I couldn't appreciate it.

So I find myself here, in mid-August and I don't remember what I've done this summer. I did decide I need to take more pictures of every day things because if I can't remember it, maybe photos would help me? I'm not sure.

Both kids have a square foot garden this summer and they are loving it. If you are interested in gardening, but in small doses I highly suggest you try this. My in-laws purchased this book for Jackson and it's a very basic how-to. Last summer his little square foot garden produced a LOT of stuff. His garden is divided into a grid for 12 different items so it's a fun experience to get your kids into gardening. His problem is he is so anxious to harvest his items and you can see by this picture he pulled his first carrot up a little prematurely. I swear, if you look REAL close you can see a tiny carrot. He thinks his tomatoes (two kinds!) and green beans are going to be ready soon. We'll see. I think dad needs to supervise.

Very slowly we have been re-doing our kitchen. We moved into this house in 2013 and didn't do anything. The walls only had a primer coat on them, the floor is gross, we had the pilgrim tiles on the wall, old lady curtains up, it was just super ugly. I will do a reveal post showing you the before and after as soon as we change the flooring. Right now we are kind of debating on what we're going to do. The floor needs to be the same in the kitchen, to the back hallway, and the downstairs bathroom, but I also want to do that flooring in the front porch so it's just not so mis-matchy every where. It's going to come down to cost and what Matt wants to install over what I think is pretty.

But before we do that, we have to start some kind of fencing in our yard. Our neighbor wants a fence too so I feel better about doing it. I didn't want to offend them or make them think I'm trying to ignore them, but he came over and mentioned it and I told him how relieved I am. I explained we need a fence to keep Penelope in the yard, I just can't run after her and it's too hard to be outside when she can run into the street. He totally understands and so him and Matt are going to figure out fencing and install it together, at least the fence that will go between our houses. It doesn't help me for this summer, but that means NEXT summer we can be outside more. And I'll feel not so on edge.

I do know most of my free time, not just this summer but always, has gone to doing laundry. My family, bless their hearts, have a terrible habit of throwing things into the hamper they just don't want to put away. Matt's guilty, the kids' are guilty, it's awful. Nothing send me over the edge like finding still folded items in my damn hamper. If you see me on an episode of Snapped, that will be why.

As summer comes to an end, it feels as busy as the school year. Olivia has a dance recital in a couple of weeks, and she has started cheerleading already. Jackson is finished with tennis camps this week but brought me a flyer for October-December lessons, which are going to be $100. That's actually not bad but it's only one time a week so I feel like that's kind of spendy? I don't know. I know I don't have $100 but he really likes it and I'm so grateful for him to have found "a thing" that I'm going to try really hard to pay for this and get him there.

I go to the Mayo Clinic at the end of this month and I'm not looking forward to it. I feel like a human pincushion. Olivia and I are going to the technology meeting at the middle school and things are starting to get rolling for that and I think the nerves are setting in for her. I'm SO nervous for her. I think I am more nervous about sending her to middle school than I was to send her to kindergarten. She turns 12 on the first day of school so I have to figure out what I'm going to do for her birthday. I basically feel like life is rolling along and I'm slowly losing the ability to keep up.

Zumbathon Fundraiser in the books!

This past weekend I took part in a Zumbathon fundraiser my friends Cassandra and Connie organized to help with the costs of life post amniotic fluid embolism and birth of baby Lucy. I actually have an update to give you on what life is like now, but maybe later this week I'll get to that.

We'll see.

(Hint: my sense of time is kind of non-existent. I feel like I float through the days mostly.)

I was kind of worried about going because I'm fat and totally out of shape. I'm also not feeling up to much of anything anymore, which I'm not sure if that's because I'm bone tired every day all day or if it's the depression. Maybe both. I also knew that most of everyone I invited wasn't going to come outside of a few, and I try to not take it personally. But let's just say thank god Cassandra and Connie know so many people because it was 98% of their friends that came and I was blown away.

But I would be remiss if I didn't say HEY to my friends who did come. It was great seeing them, it was great to know others in the crowd, and it meant a lot.

I also should point out that holy hell, I am so grossly out of shape. I haven't worked out in almost two years... it's been since before I had Penelope. Yikes. I also was reminded how much I do like zumba, and I need to get myself to a class once our finances aren't so scary.

I brought Olivia with me because she said she'd like to spend more time with me. She actually kept up pretty well, and she hung out with friends, too. And she saw her previous dance coach, so she was so excited to give her a hug.

Overall, we made just under $600 at the event, which paid our van payment this month and our next two weeks of groceries. I hate how tight things are right now. I hate that I am not bouncing back and able to just do it all on my own, which is what I'm used to. I hate that I feel like I'm a burden to Matt and his job. They really need him, god knows he has more than enough work he could be doing there, and I feel like they probably wish I could just pull it together, too. I'm trying. I'm trying every day. Like I said to people on Sunday, physically I look good, but I'm faking it. I'm faking it every day.

Sara's GoFundMe Page

Mini van & the eternal sadness.

So really long story short? We bought a mini van on Saturday. My beloved Gideon the Escape is gone. I could be super happy and gracious that we were able to buy a 2015 Grand Caravan. I could be relieved that we had an issue, we solved it, and are officially ready for Penelope.

I could be all of those things, but I'm not.

I'm not at all.

In fact? I'm angry. I'm incredibly angry. Not just because I'm stuck in a god damn mini van, which feels like a total injustice, but because I have no choice.

You see, despite being sometimes ballsy, a little outspoken, and sometimes I can be a total bitch when I feel like I'm being rolled over, I get no choice. I feel like I'm allowed to state an opinion, but it's not like it's heard. Sales people nod, smile, and give me quips about their kids (as if I give a damn), and then focus on Matt. Matt, for his part, sometimes lets me talk but then shoots me down and I just shut up versus starting a scene. He steam rolls every major decision and it's always me that gets to deal with the fall out. I'm the one managing money and cutting corners so we can pay for things. I'm the one driving a vehicle that has less features than my 1988 Ford Taurus had in high school despite it being $80 a month more than the vehicle I had even when I said we cannot afford t. I leave for two minutes to pee and all of a sudden I come back to decisions made and I look like the asshole if I say no to anything.

Now I'm stuck with this van that I absolutely hate. It's so bad that every time I get into it, I cry. I cry because I'm frustrated that it doesn't matter how hard we work at it, I can't make him be considerate. I can't make him think of someone other than himself or what's easier for him. I can't do that because that's something you're taught as a small kid and your parents hope you retain it for life.  But it's frustrating because again, it's me dealing with the fallout.

Then not only am I dealing with that, but I'm dealing with not one, but two instances where people close to me just assume my position on something. Oh, Sara doesn't like this thing, so obviously she wouldn't want to come or be involved. That type of thing. Well guess what? I might think it's pointless, you're making a mistake, or you could do better- I might think all of that or more. But you know what? None of that would prevent me from being there, being 100% supportive and gracious. You know why? Because it's not about me. You want my opinion, and I'll give it to you. But the fact that I'm invited to things, or included in something as a fucking AFTER FACT because someone made an assumption? No. That's not OK. That's rude. That tells me you need to learn basic social etiquette. I'm being included now because people feel bad or obligated? No. I don't really want to go now. So now I stand on the line of going despite feeling not wanted, or not going to prove a point nobody would get or even feel bad about.

I have my 24 week prenatal appointment on Thursday and I hate, hate, hate that I am finally at the point where I have to talk to my doctor about depression. I am at my brink. I have been for years, and I've done a really good job managing without medication and learning how to cope with life being really hard and awful. But now I feel like I'm basically navigating things alone. I know that every one is out for themselves and nobody is going to pull you along. I get that. I just hate feeling like nothing I do matters. I could bend over backwards for anyone, be there any time I'm asked, I do for everyone else, I work myself to exhaustion so life is easier for others, and I take care of everyone else before me, and nobody gives a damn. They just look at everything I could be doing more, and have their own ideas of how I should be.

And it's weighing me down. I feel like I don't want to get out of bed anymore because it's just too damn much. It's too much on me and I wonder why can't people see I'm floundering? I feel like things are falling apart around me and I'm the only person who sees it or cares. I'm sure everyone assumes I'll just pull it together and be fine, because that's what's expected.

And I probably will. Because if nothing else, god knows I feel guilty more than I feel sad and hopeless. And I hate it. I'll just keep soldering on, because as I'm reminded every day, I have nothing to be sad about. I have not one reason to feel depressed.