I swear I start every post lately with an apology and an explanation about where I’ve been.

Once again, the answer should be no surprise.  I’ve been unpacking and organizing, all while dealing with a moderate IBS flare-up. Which is kind of why I haven’t written – I’ve had things to say but not the time or energy or good humor to organize my thoughts properly.

I’m not saying I have time, energy or good humor right now, but I do have a great desire to procrastinate on doing something I don’t want to do.

So, what I don’t feel like doing is filling out the 80 billion page questionnaire that I need to mail back to the doctor so I can have my fibroid/polyp removal surgery consult scheduled.  I think I’m just having one of those moments where I’m simply SO tired of not feeling well.  I don’t want to think about this stuff, let alone answer detailed questions about it.

No.  You know what? It’s much more than that.  And I think I started to realize it yesterday when I started working on the form.

The first few pages were easy – name, address, insurance info.  Then it gets into reason for referral, current symptoms, and medical history.  Besides the fact that emotionally I didn’t want to think about it, logistically it was kind of tricky, because I’ve had lots of tests and procedures and minor surgeries over the last few years and my files are umm, around here somewhere.

It’s important that this form is accurate because the doctor reviews it before we meet so we can make the best use of our time at the appointment, so I was trying to at least get some sort of  timeline on another piece of paper so I didn’t leave out anything.  (OCD, much?)

Since I was going mostly from memory, I was kind of marking time in my head based on what job I was doing at the time.  I started the timeline back at my first abnormal pap in early 2000 when I was still living in Arizona and working for child welfare, through those first years when they were just doing a pap every six months, through when it decided it wanted to be cervical cancer after all and I had my first real get-put-to-sleep surgery in 2004, through when I was finally diagnosed with IBS in 2005, up to where we are today.

Seeing it all down on paper was insightful to say the least.

So, have I built it up enough? Are you ready to hear the exciting emotional breakthrough that I’ve had?

I have chronic medical conditions that affect my functioning and my ability to work.

Anticlimactic, no? Are you all sitting there saying, umm, how are you just now figuring this out, dumbass?  Especially since I wrote that fairly detailed post right after I quit about how hard it was to accept that I couldn’t do the detention job anymore because of my symptoms being so bad?

But see, that was just one example.  As I compared my work timeline to my medical history timeline, I realized that every job I ever quit was directly related to my medical problems.   Every one.

In 2000 was the first time my stomach problems got bad enough for me to seek treatment.  I was introduced by a mutual friend to a wonderful, wonderful woman who was a homeopath and a spiritual healer.   One of the many things she was amazing at was getting me to realize that it was ok to take care of myself first instead of last or not at all, so that I’m even capable of being there for other people. A lesson I periodically forget.

It didn’t take much to get me to realize that what I needed to do to not only manage my symptoms but maybe even heal a little was to not work a job that took so much time (50 hour work weeks anyone?) and emotional energy.  I quit child welfare and actually started working with her and studying homeopathy.

Also? She’s the first person who told me I was a writer.  Very matter of factly, like I would just realize it some day.

I haven’t yet, but it would be swell if she was right.  Or is it “were right”? See? No idea what I’m doing here.

I moved here and we eventually lost touch.  All my fault, by the way.

Anyway, despite having told myself I was done with social work I ended up getting a job as a mental health specialist in 2001.  I frakking loved that job.  Loved it. It had the perfect balance of being able to help and make a difference and do what I was good at and all that other good stuff, without being too emotionally draining.

Sure, I still had symptoms but I was managing them.  Then my paps got all scary and I had to have surgery.

The bad thing, it was the only bad thing, but it was a very big bad thing for me was that we were contracted through the state.  How to say this nicely? States have budget issues, and when they do guess what’s the first to go? Mental health services.

So I had a big expensive surgery after my hours had been cut and changes had been made to my insurance.  When all was said and done I had a $2000 medical bill and less money coming in to pay it.  It became impossible for me to live on what I was making, and although I didn’t want to, I had to find something else.

I applied and was hired with child welfare here.  Not only had I not learned my lesson, I decided to take the stress up several notches by doing intake instead of ongoing.  I’ve written about my emotional reasons for quitting this job before, but it was during this time that I was finally, after lots of testing, diagnosed with IBS.  One suggestion made by my PCP was finding a less stressful, time-consuming, and emotionally draining job.

Did I listen to him right away? Or course not! That’s how I roll.  I waited until I was basically completing falling apart physically and emotionally, then I quit.

By this time Jerrad and I had been dating about 6 months or so and let’s just say he was more than happy that I was no longer going to be doing a stressful, time-consuming, and let’s not sugarcoat it, sometimes dangerous job.

I went to work as secretary at my parish, completely convinced I was done with social work. Done!

My readers that have been around since the myspace days might remember the Parish Place blogs.  I won’t repost them here (yet) because I don’t have the privacy controls I had with myspace, but suffice it to say that shit was way more stressful than it needed to be.

While I was dealing with all that craziness, I was also trying to do all the things I needed to do to manage my IBS symptoms, on top of wondering why my periods were so heavy and I was in so much pain.

By this time, Jerrad and I were married.  We knew we preferred for me to be a stay at home mom, so at that point I was just trying to just suck it up and handle that job until I got knocked up.  Sadly, those stupid fibroids and polyps were already taking up all the available space in my uterus, unbeknownst to me.

Then the most awesome thing ever happened.  That mental health specialist job I loved so much? Was open again.  And it was still part-time.  And it was at my old branch with all my old peeps.  And the insurance didn’t matter anymore because I had an employed husband.

This was perfect, this was right, and I’d never been more sure that I was absolutely doing the right thing by going back to that job.

I settled into my old cubicle, renewed friendships, started new ones and was flooded with emotional support when I was diagnosed with the polyps and fibroids and had my first hysterosonogram and D & C.

Remember what I said about the state and budget cuts and mental health? Umm, yeah, I got laid off less than 6 weeks after I started.

By the way, God? I do not appreciate your sense of humor.

Then what followed was 7 months of looking for work while not-so-secretly hoping I would conceive before I found something.  Which didn’t happen because, again, those damn polyps just grew back, and oh by the way I have a bunch of new fibroids too.  I think the nice lady who sticks the giant camera in my hooha counted 7 or 8 at my last hysterosonogram.

I know I wrote a post when I got hired at detention about my reservations about accepting the job, but I’m too lazy to go look for the link.

I knew going into that job that it would be a struggle doing shift work given that I need to do certain things to manage my IBS symptoms, not the least of which is to be allowed to at least drink water during my shift, eat foods that I don’t have an intolerance for, and go to the bathroom when I please, not just during my 15 minute break.

There were also lots of scheduling issues with this job that I won’t even get into because it doesn’t matter anymore.  But it just seemed like whenever I could manage to get more than one shift in a row, it was always during my period.  I only worked there 3 months! What are the odds of that?

My periods are intensely painful.  And by painful, I mean cramps, excessive bleeding, and just.. pain.  I can’t explain it well, but everything hurts when I have my period.  Every single inch of all my ladyparts hurts, my cervix throbs because all that garbage is flowing over scar tissue and has less of an opening to get through.  Did I mention I lost about 1/5 to 1/4 of my cervix to the cervical cancer surgery?

Since I apparently can’t learn things without being slapped in the face with something obvious like a medical crisis, I got one of those.  And it was so bad and so painful that I had to quit that same day.  Fortunately it was a training day, but still.  It’s not the way I wanted to go out.

And like I mentioned before, my departure clearly wasn’t taken well – or possibly some didn’t believe my reasons, but I need to let go of that – since no one that I worked with (or for) responded in any way to my leaving.

It’s this last job quit that’s been the hardest.  It’s the incident that has, in fact, after all these years, gotten me to realize that I’m sick.

I’m sick.

I’m sick in such a way that sometimes, even when I eat everything right, and work out and manage my stress, I’m going to be knocked completely on my ass with a painful IBS flare-up.  For no particular reason at all.  Because that’s how IBS rolls.

And after my surgery? The fibroids and polyps are going to grow back.  That’s already been established.  Twice.

The acceptance part is tricky.  Very tricky.

I don’t like feeling weak.

I don’t like that most of this is out of my control.

I don’t like that most people don’t get how bad I really feel most of the time because I look healthy.

And I’m very, very good at pretending things are ok when they’re not.

Tags: cervical cancer, conception, D & C, hysterosonogram, infertility, laid off, Living With IBS, medical issues, ob/gyn, social work, uterine fibroids, uterine polyps

This entry was posted by Cathy on Monday, November 9th, 2009 at 7:01 pm and is filed under Living With IBS, My Former Life, My Stupid Uterus, Trying To Conceive. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.