azurelunatic: A pajama-clad small child uses a rainbow-striped cruciform parachute. From illustration of "Go the Fuck to Sleep". (insomnia)
So because not only do I have insomnia, I also suffer from it, the most-recent in the chain of moderately alarmed sleep-adjacent professionals (the neurologist at Deer Creek) referred me to the Improve Your Sleep! class, which has been eating my Monday evenings over the last month.

The main feature of this class, in the eyes of the neurologist and my counselor, has been the CBT aspect of it. Apparently the number one thing that cures insomnia is CBT. So everyone was hopeful. (I had specified to the neurologist that I would in fact be running anything suggested in the CBT past my Supervisor and my therapist. Which was a good call to have made.)

It turns out that when Guide Dog Aunt loaned me a book on sleep a few years ago, the one that pointed out that there was not in fact any moral value to any specific sleep schedule, and that instead of saying stuff like "I'm lazy because I sleep until noon", one should look at it in terms of "My most productive hours are in the evening, and I schedule my life in a way that suits my sleep schedule" -- that general tool of re-framing the guilt and fear around sleep is in fact the very CBT that this class relies on. So, unfortunately, the CBT that I had hoped would be new information was not, in fact, new information at all. The book specifically addressed Negative Sleep Thoughts. The class then expanded the concepts of re-framing runaway negative thought chains in a better light, which is also a Fishmum trick that I've been teaching my little fishies and my partner...

The other main leg of this class is meditation and the relaxation response. I believe that I can trace my habit of meditative breathing in particular to the summer when I read ... some Heinlein book or other ... and thought that taking up meditation would be a grand idea. The latest that could have been was 1996. Then I formally took up meditation (and learned all of the techniques discussed in the meditation unit of this class) in 2001-ish, when I went to DeVry to get a degree in Holistic Massage join a coven. So depending how you slice it, I've been familiar with, and practicing, meditation for anywhere from fifteen to twenty years.

The main new information I got out of the class, in fact, was that sleep-maintenance insomnia was recently discovered to be associated with a sleep-time body temperature that has not dropped as it ought to for that part of the night. And I do, in fact, routinely overheat while attempting to sleep. Which means that if I'm in bed and even slightly think that I might not get to sleep soonish, I should immediately go and get the ice pack, and not try to be a hero.

Also, low doses of sedating antidepressants are also used as sleep medications. The instructor was down on this practice, because antidepressants are only good for people with depression. FUNNY THING, THAT.

Pretty much all the rest of the class was review, and (due to my internets research) I was often in possession of more detailed information than the instructor. I came to feel that I could probably have taught the class myself, given the curriculum.

The first class was pleasant enough. I think there were about ten of us. One woman came in late, and borrowed a pen from me. We had a pleasant chat while she was waiting for her husband to pick her up. She's sleep-deprived to the point that she can't safely drive, and caretaking for her autistic son has done a number on her sleep schedule and ability to stay asleep.

I reviewed the materials in the packets for the four weeks. The second week, the cognitive re-framing, was going to be hard, since the materials blithely suggested that "most people" could get away with abbreviated amounts of sleep with nothing more terrible than a loss of creativity and a bad mood. Pro tip: when your patient reports very bad effects ) tied to as little as one night of abbreviated sleep while under stressful circumstances (and the current Republican administration is nothing if not stressful circumstances) telling the patient that everything is probably going to be okay if they blow sunshine up their own ass is life-threateningly bad advice. So I realized that I had better sit next to the door in case I had to step out of the room.

During the second class, the instructor was trying to impress upon us the way that a poorly timed nap can fuck up your sleep schedule pretty badly. My friend said that this was going to be a problem for her: you put her in the car (as a passenger) and she passes out pretty much instantly.

"It should be easy to stay awake in the car!" said the instructor.

"It's hard."

"Well, life is hard."

At this juncture, I decided that the most constructive action I could take was going to be going and sitting in the hall for a bit (and angrily texting my partner). I came back in after about five minutes.

Later in the evening, the instructor planned to lead us through more meditation/relaxation, to include the rest of the class period. I abruptly realized that I did not actually feel that making myself vulnerable to and in front of this instructor was a good idea, and grabbed my stuff and left the building.

In the third class, I sat by the door. (My friend did not show up for this class, or the following week.) When the meditation/relaxation section arrived, I popped both headphones in and proceeded to listen to podcasts, and only emerged when that bit was done. At the end of class, I asked the instructor about the bits in the next one, saying without explanation that I would not be taking part in the relaxation exercise, and would likely leave the room. He said when the long one would be, and there would be another short one later.

In the fourth class (tonight), I sat by the door, and took a chair with me when I popped out for the duration of the exercise. The instructor came and fetched me when it was done. And I did other things for the short one.

I did ask, this time, what he recommended to keep you awake when the sleep pressure is high but it's a bad time for a nap. And if there were resources on being a millennial and not having a whole house to work with in terms of keeping stress out of your bedroom. (Do something loud. And, probably, somewhere.) I asked about next steps. He recommended the meditation class, or the anxiety class. "That really doesn't seem to be a recommendation geared for someone who has been practicing meditation for fifteen years," I said, smiling aggressively.

He recommended tai chi.

"That's really rather along the same lines," I said, still smiling.

There was a class evaluation form, which asked about how much we learned from the class, and how helpful it was. It was ... not.

So I'll be asking my GP, my counselor, and my psychiatrist about next steps, then. Now that I've taken this miserable class so they'll take me seriously.
azurelunatic: (Queer as a) $3 bill in pink/purple/blue rainbow.  (queer as a three dollar bill)
Quoted with permission. The writer is non-binary gendered, AFAB, and has recently had top surgery.

One of the best things about [top surgery] is how quickly my dysphoria has eased. One of the things I worried about was whether I actually had dysphoria - after all, I was managing to hold down at least one job, go out, have a relationship and so on. I was pretty functional, right? Now I've actually had surgery, I realise how bad it was: all the things I avoided because it meant putting a binder on, all the ways it impacted my relationship and friendships, the way it affected about how I felt about my body, the constant buzzing low level awareness that couldn't be switched off. And now it's gone, and its absence is so noticeable.
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
http://azurelunatic.tumblr.com/post/155137530202/clue-ambassador-stories-pcos -- with a few extra details edited in.

If you have been diagnosed with PCOS, please follow up about annoying symptoms like extra heavy periods and changes in discharge! Backstory. )

I had vaginal brachytherapy for the radiation follow-up, which was essentially three sessions, each consisting of an hour or so of boring being still, followed by ten minutes of also boring being still with a danger dildo. There were minimal side effects.

Details. )
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
So yesterday's medical woe was all down to Kaiser (insurance company) shenanigans with Apria (CPAP provider). The name Kaiser transmitted is different from the name on my ID. Because I am heartily tired of being called *Miss* $WALLETNAME, I have asked Kaiser to stop calling me that, and start calling me Reverend. I didn't get ordained for nothing. Because Kaiser's computer system has no place for honorific, the way they treat it when it's causing the patient distress is to shove it in front of the first name. Therefore, I get prescriptions written to Rev $WALLETFIRSTNAME $WALLETLASTNAME. Clusterfuck.

Hopefully my new insurance card will be in the new name, for less confusion, when I hand it to people. My Top has grumbled about the insurance company making their Sub cry. My Top would like the insurance company to be better equipped to handle people with particular honorifics and atypical genders, please.

I would really like an iOS Dreamwidth client, one that was offline friendly, so I could compose while offline and waiting somewhere, and it would post automatically when I connected.

The morning started with some leisurely chatting with my partner, then progressed to Skype the instant it was helpful to do so. The connection was crappy, but sufficient, and I am coming to know my partner's face and body well enough that I can reconstruct the general visual from even a pixellated blur. (A misspent youth that didn't include enough anime to get *quite* that good...) Upon heading off for errands, we swapped over to phone as soon as I got out of the signal-eating garage. There we stayed, with a few intermissions, until their ex's arrival was imminent.

No two introverts can talk that long uninterrupted. Fortunately, that's not what we were doing. They were enjoying some well-earned video game time. I was doing various housework and re-arrangement of the bedside ecosystem to accommodate the new machinery and its power hookups. In addition to the CPAP I also now have a daylight lamp, one of the sorts that turns itself on at whatever hour you tell it to simulate dawn.

I am honestly not expecting the CPAP to rock my world and change my life. I know it must be doing some good, because after the first night I was even remotely willing to put the thing up my face again. The week I had the loaner did have some improvement in sleep, but it also had a steep drop in outdoor temperature. Post-surgery, I've been getting hot flashes; overheating was already a major cause of bad sleep, and hot flashes have not helped that. Previously I was able to make do with a fan pointed at me. Prior to the temperature drop, I've had to snuggle ice packs. There were a few other things that changed. I also have a very mild case (enough that the insurance does not cover the equipment, although I still got their rate in purchasing it). So I don't expect that this will change my life or rock my world.

I do expect that if I *still* have terrible sleep with great CPAP compliance data, they might take me seriously. Also, the lack of CPAP kept me from going home after surgery that could (technically) have been outpatient. The surgeon said that with a CPAP he'd have been okay with letting me go home once I was okay enough, but without that, he wanted to keep an eye on me and make sure I got enough oxygen and didn't stop breathing.

(My medication change last September did in fact change my life and rock my world; prior to that I was falling asleep in meetings and similar, regularly.)

Ev went back to New York today, which gets her out of range of her terrible mother. Though not before her mother imposed home cooking on her, with the expectation that she would take it back with her and eat it. This is one of the perils of being the American child of immigrants: if your parent is a *terrible* cook of their original culture, it's at least doubly terrible on account of the part where that perhaps isn't even food in the American paradigm. Her mother is a terrible cook. I gave her permission to throw it out. (Also, it delights me that she's got to the point where she often knows the best course of action on her own, and merely needs my validation to go ahead and proceed with that action.)

I will remember her stay here for weeks, if only by the fact that her hair has gotten all over everything. I know it's hers because it's pink. Mine is blue.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Saturday: very quiet, stayed at home, a certain amount of chat with partner.

Sunday: went to my aunt's to gossip and watch GBBO and Frasier. This was put on pause when Infamous Cousin, his girlfriend, and two friends showed up to pick up Boat.

Boat is a dog. She's a German Shepherd (perhaps a mix?) with one constantly upward-pointed ear and one ear that mostly flops but sometimes flaps and points when she's doing radar-ears about something. She is 70 pounds of complete love, love that wants to hug you without your permission and share your peanut butter. She's also dog-reactive, got separation anxiety, and has recently learned how to climb 8 foot wooden fences. (Her rear legs were off the ground and front legs were over the top, according to my aunt.)

My aunt very much misses the poodle.

Monday: also quiet, wrestling with sleep schedule and preparing for Fishie's visit and chatter with partner (always). Plus some undignified laboratory homework.

TMI )

Today: whooooo boy. Aforementioned lab drop-off, then I picked up [personal profile] quartzpebble and we went all the way out to the back of beyond to talk with the sleep neurologist who wasn't Dr. Asshole.

Appointment went okay. This doctor wasn't at all sure what to do with a patient whose depression is rapidly and *extremely* worsened by sleep deprivation (she inquired with some urgent concern whether I was feeling like that now, as she'd have to report that; I was not; she recommended that I see my psych crew to get that taken care of, which MISSED THE POINT ENTIRELY, that if I follow her instructions I'd probably need to be taken inpatient, and if I don't try to fuck with my sleep schedule, I'm pretty much all right except pretty fucking disabled due to the level of difficulty I have maintaining a modern business type schedule), and whose AD(H)D interferes with any and all "sleep hygiene" things that amount to "just get fantastically bored and you'll go to sleep", and whose budget does not presently include a CPAP. (Also, the mouth appliance thing costs more than a CPAP, and stuff in my mouth when I sleep is a hard limit after the misadventures of 1996/1997.) And there's some advice (not all of which can be followed and keep me sane), and there's a CBT class (cognitive behaviour therapy, not the other one), the contents of which I will be running past my Top and perhaps also my morail, as they are among the safeguards against me putting stuff in my head which needs to not be in there.

I only cried a little.

Soooooooo... compared to the appointment with Dr. Asshole, this went astonishingly well.


F and I had a few misadventures in finding a place for food. We settled on a diner. Lumpy's was closed already, since it was a Tuesday. Digger's was astonishingly difficult to find. I refueled, then we finally located it. The sign is not night-friendly, and very stylized.

Food was good. One of the great things about a diner that plays oldies and classic rock -- very little chance of getting the Wham!


The drive back was pretty much uneventful. Except now [personal profile] quartzpebble smells enough like Purple that I kept getting the "Oh, there's Purple!" pings in my brain. THIS IS WEIRD.

My partner called when I was on the way home, and we talked about stuff. Logistics for some things are difficult.


I talk to my (prescribing) psych tomorrow, and I'll probably poke Purple for dinner. Whee!
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
  • Thu, 23:35: RT @erabrand: Weird Disability community thing: outside the community, announcing a new dx gets met with sadness, pity. Inside, you get con…
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  • Fri, 12:14: I can in fact shimmy out of my underwear while the nurse is grabbing me a drape. #pelvicexam #endometrialcancer
  • Fri, 13:16: About an hour of waiting at the doctor! Finally on my way home. No pelvic exam.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I have a follow-up appointment and pelvic exam with my surgeon on Friday. Purple and I were brainstorming items that the surgeon would not be expecting to find when inspecting the surgical site.

Kinder egg (without chocolate)
Kinder egg (chocolate and all)
Toy fire truck
whistle
kazoo
Slide whistle
Entire Google car (full size) (we were at the Five Guys on Rengstorff, so there were lots of them driving past; I saw three simultaneously at one point)
Tiny model uterus (he already took one out)
A crab. (Zodiac Cancer.)
azurelunatic: panic button.  (panic)
My readers who don't have access have seen precious little of me lately (and I've been scarce locked as well). Two big reasons.

First, and most delightfully, I am in some sort of relationship; the details are still being worked out, but the important part is that we have each other now. So that's been taking a fair chunk of my social time.

Second, when they took out my uterus and its baggage, it wasn't good news, but it could have been worse. )


I lost my long-term job in February. (I've had some gigs, but nothing long-term or offering coverage.) When the host company switched contractor management providers in 2015, I lost the crappy insurance I'd had through the first contractor management joint. (It would have paid up to $10,000 of something -- which burns through pretty fast if something major happens. I was terrified that something major would happen, and avoided doing anything that would get me diagnosed with a pre-existing condition.) The new contract management joint didn't give health benefits to anyone in their first year. (People with good tech jobs whose workplaces use contract labor: apply pressure to make sure your contractors are taken care of, either individually or by their management companies.)

Since 2015, I've had health coverage through the Affordable Care Act. I was able to sign up after losing the crappy insurance. I picked a plan with good coverage and good reviews, as I was aware that I probably had lurking health issues, and it would finally be safe to treat them. A decade and a half of little to no health care and untreated depression will do a number on you. A decade and a half of consciously avoiding health care to avoid getting a "pre-existing condition" sentence on my record made me avoidant even when I did have coverage, so I wound up avoiding check-ups, avoiding things that would give me poison diagnoses in service of a future when it became a crisis and I would need to be covered. But in 2015, I finally got a diagnosis for my depression. (I should have been diagnosed in 1993. I should have been treated in 1993. I wasn't.) I got some other things diagnosed and treated.

Since my sweetie and I are polyamorous, we're being intentionally careful about our sexual health. On my end, we figured it would be a good idea for me to get some sort of long-acting contraceptive. (My opinions on body-birth for me were well-established; reversible was not a deep concern.) I'd heard that "vaginal bleeding" postcoitally was a sign of cancer, but figured that wasn't me; I had a PCOS diagnosis, and the blood was quite definitely coming from inside the uterus, even if it happened after sex.

PRO TIP: WHEN THE BLOOD IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE UTERUS, THIS COUNTS AS VAGINAL BLEEDING.

So I'm a cancer survivor now.

I'm still paying quite a lot for my insurance. But.
Under the Affordable Care Act, I still get insurance.
Under the Affordable Care Act, if I switch insurers, my pre-existing conditions (cancer, depression, and other things) are still covered.
I don't have to worry about contraception anymore. My cancer ensured that I will never experience pregnancy or body-birth. But the Affordable Care Act would make sure that I could get access to contraception without worrying about the cost.

It's a fluke that I planned on becoming sexually active again this year. It was endometrial cancer gone rogue, so the surface cells of the cervix tested fine. I wasn't due another pap smear for years.

"How do you feel about having saved your partner's life?" a mutual friend asked my sweetie.
My sweetie looked uncomfortable: they didn't feel they'd done that much. Surely it would have been caught and treated, sooner or later.
Without them, it would have been later. Without them, it likely would have been post-ACA. I've seen friends struggle and beg to get live-saving operations that their insurance wouldn't cover. I thought we, as a country, were past that.


I still have conditions that can and will kill me if left untreated. The cancer may also spring up again. My best hope for a long and happy life is if I jump on a symptom immediately, even if I think it may not be a big deal. I'm scheduled for four pelvic exams a year for the next few, and it'll only drop off to yearly at the five year cancer free mark.

If the Affordable Care Act goes away without something better and more protective in place to catch the people who fall through the cracks of work insurance, private insurance, and insurance through a family member, I am likely to become uninsured. I tend to land jobs that put me above the poverty line, so programs intended to help out people in truly dire financial straits don't apply to me. The job that I worked four years and loved gave me utter crap insurance, because they were allowed to. The insurance disappeared after three years, because they were allowed to do that, too. The insurance I'm paying for now, under the Affordable Care Act, is still about 25% of the value of my rent. (Welcome to the San Francisco Bay Area.)


In a future without the ACA, I'm looking at a few possible outcomes:

  • Hope my state continues to think it's a good idea to strongarm insurance companies into covering people like me.

  • Hope my insurance company thinks it's a good idea to keep covering people like me without government intervention. (Ha ha ha. Ha.)

  • Hope that I land a job that thinks it's worth paying to keep its employees healthy, and does not treat them as disposable once they get sick.

  • Hope that I can marry or otherwise become legally partnered with someone whose job thinks it's worth paying to keep its employees and their spouses healthy, and does not treat them as disposable once they get sick.

  • Hope that if there's someone willing to marry me and share their health care (among other reasons, hopefully), that it remains legal for us to marry.

  • Hope that I get a job that offers health care, at all, period. (The place that only offered health benefits after one year, and stopped employing people at the one year mark, that one was hilarious.)

  • Hope that I can continue to access all of my current medications.

  • Hope that I can continue to access the medications that keep me from dying painfully within the next 2-5 years, and the medications that keep my depression a temporary and treated problem rather than a likely permanent and lethal one. (Again, this is the first year since age 13 or so that I have felt that I'm no worse a suicide risk than any other member of the population without chronic depression.)

  • Hope I don't get sick. Hope the depression doesn't flare up. Hope the ADD lets me focus well enough to hold down a job. Hope I find a job that works with my sleep schedule, rather than against it. Hope the sleep schedule lets me hold down any job, period. Hope that any minor illnesses I get don't jeopardize my job. (Fun fact for those who have never worked a service-industry type job: you find yourself going to work contagious and miserable because you've got to save the sick leave for when you genuinely cannot function or need a doctor's appointment during your normal hours of work. A doctor's note for a multiple-day illness has you spending a day's pay on a doctor visit co-pay or urgent care fee, and the first day of absence may hit your attendance record anyway. Or, if you're a disposable temp, they'll just drop you, because they only care about you not being contagious in their office and they need someone to do the work.)

  • Hope my family doesn't bankrupt themselves trying to keep me alive if I get badly sick.

  • Die, maybe. Probably painfully, with the added indignity of trying to navigate a bureaucratic hell while doing so.


Every one of those options fills me with terror. Bad psychological stuff, and news of the sudden death of a member of my extended circles. )


I'm not okay right now. I've been crying off and on yesterday and today. I am afraid, and I don't know how much the protective bureaucracies that surround the executive branch will be able to shield health care access and workers' rights from the predation of cheap-labor conservatives and the gig economy.

I know I have it much, much better than many. I have a protective and loving family who will try to do what they can to keep me covered and alive. I live in a state that generally wants to take care of its people even when they do it bassackward. I am destined for a state that's of similar opinions.

I am lucky. And I'm terrified.
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
The other week when I had the allergy attack from hell (miserably zero sleep due to not being able to breathe) my GP put me on fluticasone propionate nasal spray.

I can ... breathe.

I can lie down, and after two hours I can still breathe out of the lower half of my nose, most times. My life is not a constant sniffle in order to avoid choking.

I will probably have to spray this up my nose once a day for the rest of my breathing days.

This is fabulous.
Tags:
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Monday was a quiet day. I had dinner with Purple. It was unremarkable, other than the way I was a little sneezy.

A little sneezy turned into explosively sneezy and then my sinuses were an impassable wall of woe. I got approximately three hours sleep, out of 7+ horizontal.

Tuesday was not a great day. I realized that I should not be driving anywhere. I also had a care package to send, a package to pick up, and building plumbing problems. I made the best of it, and walked to the post office to grab a shipping box.

On the way there, the sleep department in Oakland called me to let me know that they saw that I had an appointment in SSF, did I want to take that appointment in Oakland too? I wasn't near the computer, so I had no idea; I wasn't expecting the call, and I had three hours of sleep. I had no idea, and very little vocabulary to put things together. I informed them to email me.

I sent a care package of old tech off to my Gentle Caller. The great thing about flat rate boxes is, it's the same price to send a small box with three bits of old electronics as it is to send that same box with three bits of old electronics, two plastic bracelets with a plastic recorder and a plastic maraca each, a baggie of glitter, and a handful of dark chocolate.

And that was only Tuesday. )
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I got an appointment for Tuesday the 16th to make sure that my incisions were not infected. I learned that I didn't need to take my entire top off for these things if it was loose, that the incisions were not infected, that they weren't sure which surgical tape they'd used, but whatever it was, I shouldn't use it again.

They were claiming it was the adhesive. I disregarded the precised details of this claim, as the irritation which could be traced to the tape was only at the top and bottom edges of where the tape was and not the sides or the entire area covered by the tape. Therefore it must have been something in the cut edge, and not in the bottom layer of adhesive or in the bound edge.

I got an internal exam, where they peered at the stitches. The first speculum didn't let them see properly, so a second one was brought out. I had my typical reaction to pelvic exams, with a bonus former-cervical-area discomfort, as they'd disarranged the area just a bit. (Plus the bad reaction to overdoing things had annoyed it on Saturday night.)

They discussed the lab results. This is perhaps not the conversation to be having while wearing a shirt and an exam drape over your lower half. They discussed the general type of follow-up appointment I'll be needing.

I used the iPad to "scan"-and-email the lab results to the top recipient on my needs-updates list. I called [personal profile] norabombay and left a message.

Chatted with people.

Went to dinner with Purple (as it was a Tuesday, and I had warned him that I might need human company for after) and had various terrible conversation. (He is terrible, and should feel terrific.) We looked over the diagnosis together. I ... may have cold-spider-ed at him pretty hard. (He may have also held on to me quite a bit.) He also made terrible, terrible jokes. I told him about my typical reaction to pelvic exams, and how that at least had not been substantially changed by the operation. More terrible jokes.

My tweets

6/9/16 12:01
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Read more... )
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
The original of this was written on Thursday, August 4th, after I got home from the hospital, and sent to a selection of friends and family. I have redacted some bits, added other bits, and corrected some details.

I am settled in back at home, and have been up and walking around, sitting up at the computer, and napping. I am sore, but not more than is reasonable. I have a dotted line of five 4x2" bandages across the middle of my abdomen, and a not-so-mysterious sore spot where my cervix used to be. There are marks of adhesive tape on my hands and arms and basically everywhere which I am slowly scrubbing off with alcohol wipes, and I'm still discovering little stick-on snaps from the monitoring leads that they didn't entirely remove after I came out of surgery.

I'm doing okay and will hear more back from the doctor in about a week, and I have a follow-up appointment for the 22nd. They think they got everything of concern out with the uterus, tubes, and ovaries, but they will follow up to make sure. I should be able to resume normal activities in 6-8 weeks. I probably shouldn't be driving for several more days, but I've been sitting up and walking around without any particularly large amount of pain for the past 6 hours, so I may be ready for that sooner than I initially thought. [I wound up driving on Sunday.]


The long version follows.

Read more... )
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Naps are eating less of my life, which is good.

Sitting at weird angles which puts pressure on the abdominal incisions still feels unpleasant; I adjust my position fairly quickly when I notice, but it's not an immediate twitch.

Job applications have resumed with moderate confidence; I feel as though I might be able to interview next week if I got nibbles. I don't think I could be balls-to-the-wall until September, but as soon as I'm able to resume yoga ball I'll be building back my stamina.

I'm looking in the SF Bay Area, but leaning towards something that wouldn't expect me to stay there for more than two years or so. I'd also be open to remote work. Nobody pays to relocate an administrative assistant, but my feet are getting a little twitchy. (I love the Bay Area, but daaaaaaaaaaaaang is it expensive.) Climate-wise, I'd be considering parts of the Pacific Northwest that aren't hugely inclined to snow. Socially, I like near big cities, but I'm enough of a car creature to prefer suburbs.

I'm an office minion with a talent for discovering bugs and other usability problems from the user-end of your software while using it, and I can file coherent bugs and talk with the dev team. I can do helpdesk work. I can make you coffee, order you office supplies, and plan events. I can juggle your calendars, too, and write coherent documentation. I can attend the needs of managers and make sure they have their equipment in order, their travel plans filed, their receipts combat-scrapbooked in order for submitting, and similar.

Anybody looking for someone like me? :)
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I still keep getting ambushed by mandatory naps, but I have notice on them, and today I actually did (post-nap) get up the coherence to do a small shopping run. I drove; my pain levels have been low enough that the last srs bzns painkiller was either late Friday or early Saturday, so it's well cleared my system.

Purple did not come visit this weekend -- I was feeling pretty awful on Saturday (there are certain well-known side effects of srs bzns painkillers on the digestive system, and it turns out that coming *off* also has effects), and then he was feeling pretty awful Sunday. So.

I haven't actually watched any of the tv I was planning to watch, yet. Other things have been poking into my sphere of attention.

I have discovered that getting Windows 10 to not reboot you without permission is much more difficult on the wired network. Swearing ensued, followed by modifying the permissions on the registry such that the registry could be edited to mark all internet connections as metered, not just the wireless sort.
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
I did in fact get an entire lengthy Thing about my funtimes in the hospital all written up, chock-full of unredacted family information and sent out to a slightly wider list of the usual suspects.

Then Aunt-Fayoumis wanted to know alllll about this [personal profile] ryan character; he seems like a jewel among men.


Reader, I married him.

Specifically, in 2013, I married [personal profile] ryan and my honorary brother [personal profile] jd, serving as officiant.


I had to disabuse Aunt-Fayoumis of the obvious misconception about the fundamentals of the relationship between me and [personal profile] ryan, is what I'm saying.

I did enlighten her as to the entity that she should be asking about, and did provide Much Of The Information.


Other than that, it's been a quiet day. I wrote stuff. I did not get any further pokes from doctors. I napped. I confirmed that my physical recovery is definitely underway. I took a shower, taking care with the bitty wee incisions to limit their time under the spray (despite the tape) and that they were patted dry promptly. I strolled down to the corner for food and back. On my way back, I encountered someone who had just had a worse day than I did, on account of the bottom of his paper bag fell out and all his takeout containers fell out, and some of them spilled.

I read fic.

I took meds.

Writing is harder, but not impossible. I keep losing the narrative thread and wandering into distracted staring dreaminess.

It'll probably take me at least another full day of writing-brain to translate the Hospital Saga from email to DW post.
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
Got the uterus (and tubes, and ovaries) out yesterday. Spent the night at the hospital.

Got home today just after noonish, and shortly thereafter fell over for a much-needed nap.

Pain is mostly being covered, and I've been sitting up and walking around. Tomorrow I may venture further afield. No driving for a bit yet, though.

I'm very happy to be rid of my uterus. Of particular note: #bloodcannon is not happening anymore!

I may post a more detailed version in a while.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Azz is awake, groggy, and in posession of their cell phone. They have even
posted a post surgery selfie.

[twitter.com profile] azurelunatic at twitter has the pics.

/norabombay

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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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