Tuesday, July 26, 2011

And here I stand

I actually had this drafted up last week - complete with a reference to Extreme Couponing - but something stopped me from publishing it. I think it was fear. WE DON'T LIKE FEAR AROUND THESE PARTS. Anyway, I am comfortable now telling you this.

The Responsible GYN called me today to tell me that he had The Discussion with TEAM RACHAEL! and TR! gave the green light on a partial hysterectomy.

They feel I am in good enough health to go through this surgery and its recovery time. I would be under for 2 hours (a mere trifle) in the hospital for about 3 days (to observe) and recovery would be about 3 weeks (let's just say a month).

A partial hysterectomy would remove my uterus and cervix, though the latter is optional but the GYN recommends it. Ovaries will still be intact, and no hormonal imbalance will be had. Still won't stop me from being a weepy bitch due to my typical bad reaction to anesthetic.

Now that it is within reaching distance I am pausing to have a full-on freak out because it's like HERE. This is HAPPENING. I asked for shit to be taken care of and I found the right people to take care of it. The partial will obliterate all chances of me ever getting knocked up as well as take care of the heavy bleeding as there will never, ever be another period again.

HOLY SPACEBALLS WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE SUCH A GIFT?! <--- that's ok. I'll be in a world of pain before I get to the good life.

It's that world of pain that leaves me a bit hesitant but I know the pain will eventually subside and I will never, ever have to worry about accidentally getting pregnant. I will never have to worry about weighing the decision of a termination and all of the psychological/emotional stress that it brings.

It's still a tough decision to make, as a woman and a young woman at that. I'm confident about never having kids. That's not a question. It's just having to remove parts of my body that act a little wonky every month but are otherwise tiptop that make me kind of mehhhh.

No one ever said being responsible was easy, though.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

They can roll a D20 every time

You know what happens when TEAM RACHAEL! steps in and fights a battle for me?

SHIT. GETS. DONE!

Yesterday I woke up with a killer headache and my boy wanted me to cancel my appointment and stay home (I was dealing with palpitations Monday night as well) but I was like, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THIS SHIT NEEDS TO BE OVER!

So I go back to UCLA (poor people back alley entrance building) and I'm all prepared to have to talk to a Baby Doctor and wait a bajillion and one years before I see the Attending but - gasp gasp - miracle of miracles, friends!
Not only did I wait 12 minutes before someone came it, it was THE ATTENDING HIMSELF!

He was all SRS BSNS and I was all, "OMG, I was not prepared for this! For intelligent questions to be asked! For decisions to be made! For shit getting done!"

So I have some choices to make and of course TEAM RACHAEL! is being consulted at the moment, too. Once everything is finalized I'll let you know what step I'll be taking next.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Today is my fucking birthday. I rule.

Today I am 29 years old and it is the one day the judge has permitted me to indulge in my raging narcissism.

Ever since I was a teenager and I started to hear young, lively people reduce to two year old tantrums every time their birthday rolled around I decided to never get bitchy and whiny about my birthday. Growing Old means I'M STILL HERE TO GROW OLD. That outweighs any gray hair I find, any aches I feel, any "ma'am's" I hear. Bitches, I am still alive and that is fucking beautiful thing.

HOWEVER, for whatever stupid ass reason, I felt a weird, melancholy feeling as 29 slowly crept closer. I tried to shrug it off and then, as it persisted, I tried to beat it down with a stick. Short of killing it with fire, I'm just going to have to accept a slight melancholy feeling of just "This is not where I wanted to be in life at this age" BUT THIS DOES NOT TRANSLATE TO "Oh shit, I am so fucking old, I'm going to fill out my AARP membership card and go treat myself the Senior Grand Slam at Denny's before I snuggle down at 7:00pm and fall asleep to reruns of Matlock."

Part of the melancholy feeling spawns from a Logan's Run fear that I have an expiration date. My paternal unit is to blame for this irrational fear, as he is typically the parent I go to for level-headed logic. In a moment of weakness he foolishly confided in me that, to his understanding, my earliest doctors gave me a lifespan of 30 years. Basically, in one year from now, my hand is going to start beeping and I'm gonna be on the lam, running from a scythe wielding reaper who has a tight schedule to keep. PARENTAL FAIL.

So I'm still happy to be getting older 'cause, hell, here the fuck I still stand and I am grateful for whatever Force that wants me still roaming wild and free on this planet.

I am also grateful to TEAM RACHAEL! - from the first members of TR! to my current card carrying posse, TEAM RACHAEL! has always striven to keep me out of the grave and onto my next birthday.
Even though it's in the job description to keep patients alive, TEAM RACHAEL! isn't just going on a god complex, they actually give two craps about me and want me to live another day. Not everyone can say they get that kind of support or rallying for ones well being, and I count myself among the fortunate.

Thanks, TEAM RACHAEL! I couldn't have gotten to this point without you. <3

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Girl, you don't know who you are messing with. I got a blog!

Medical receptionists are the bane of my existence.
Seriously - I think there is a course at their tech school that specifically teaches them to fuck up deliberately and act like it wasn't their fault.

I'm going to crash course everyone in the lady woes I'd been having by providing you a copy of this official letter that sums up the drama I've been going through since I switched to UCLA West (that's the UCLA for poor folk building).

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:

When I was relocating to UCLA Medical West in February/March of 2011, I was scheduled to see Dr. Y. – but never did. She had her resident, Dr. G, take over and never once saw or talked to me herself. I found this to be unprofessional and exceedingly rude as I was not in a position to educate Dr. G about my unique heart health, walk her through my history and expect her to know the best course of action for my needs. Dr. G was the utmost professional and did her best, but when problems arose again in early June, I contacted TEAM RACHAEL! to schedule an appointment with Dr. P, who came highly recommended. I was out of the country and experiencing a very aggravating gynecological problem that I have been trying to sort out for some time. On June 8th, TEAM RACHAEL! informed me that she made an appointment with Dr. P, scheduled for July 5th at 1:15pm. As I do not drive, I asked my mother if she could take me to the appointment. She did and we made plans. We do not live on the west side of Los Angeles – we are situated in the San Gabriel Valley. It takes us at least one hour to arrive for my UCLA related appointments.
When I arrived at 12:45pm to check in, I was informed by the medical receptionist that I would not be seeing Dr. P because it was not his week for UCLA West appointments. Instead, I was going to see Dr. Y. I hope you can appreciate how mind-numbingly livid I was at being told this. My mother and I took time out of our schedule to come to this appointment – to drive through traffic, spending money on gas, lunch, parking only to be told we were not given an appointment with the doctor my cardiology team member was especially careful to make the appointment with. When I informed the receptionist of the problem, she was unsympathetic and told me all she could do was reschedule me. She then informed me that she was the individual whom scheduled the appointment in the first place and “Had TEAM RACHAEL! told me you didn’t want to see Dr. Y I would have made sure you weren’t scheduled to see her.”
Pardon my assumption Рbut when I schedule an appointment with a particular doctor РI expect to see that doctor. The receptionist should have informed TEAM RACHAEL! of the available dates Dr. P had at UCLA West Рnot whatever date was most convenient to see whoever happened to be there. I found her blas̩ attitude to be accusatory as if Linda and I were in the wrong and the whole ordeal to reek of classism. Just because I am on Medi/Medi does not mean I do not deserve to be treated with the same respect given to those able to afford being seen in the Medical Center.
I am not asking for fiscal compensation or even an apology. All I am asking for is for everyone at UCLA West to take a step outside of themselves and act in the best interest of their patients.
--Signed ME

There you go. The last few months of "No Babies Allowed" in a nutshell and I am still at square one.