Christie's space "A kiss a day keeps a bad mood away!"

Two days ago I was pruning my Brugmansias in my bare back yard. The new people who moved in behind my house have a dog, a loud dog to be precise! Every time I moved it barked. Then his master yelled at him, and then he barked some more. I climbed on top of a metal round table sitting there to develop rust, and just then my husband came outside. He yells at me for pretending to be in the circus five weeks after my hysterectomy, she yelps some more at the dog. Suddenly, the barking wasn't too bothersome anymore... Instead of nicely coming down, I fell off the darn table, it tipped over. A scrape on my leg and a huge dent in my self esteem. End of story, right?

Nope. That night I have pain in my abdomen, where I think my right ovary lives. Going to lay down or sitting up again hurts. Hmm, it must be my ovulating gone mad. The next day goes fine, I am a bit hormonal, so I am convinced it is just an ovulation.

This morning I couldn't get up. Terrible pain moving about. Of course this type of situation does only occur when my husband is on the other side of the country and my OB is out of the office for the day. The nurse told me to go to the ER, so I ask my neighbor to bring me. No school for Mattie or me.

In the waitingroom is nobody besides me and my kid. I was happy, thinking I would be out of there soon. My name is called and I get robbed of my personality; hospital gown, funny socks and a bell to call the nurse. The patient is ready, no signs of personality left.

The first nurse comes in with my file under her arm. She is so pregnant she could be delivering in my bed the next moment. She asks me "Could you be pregnant?" I answer her "Could you?" She blushes, obviously finding my remark offensive.

I told her I had a hysterectomy in that same hospital five weeks and one day ago. Little details that show they know they are dealing with PEOPLE are sorely lacking. Hospitals are not the place to be missing one's personal uterus. Note to self!

I had an ultrasound. The woman was weaving her probe like a magic wand. Highly painful. I told her my doctor said nothing in the v*gina for six weeks and she said five months is plenty PAST six weeks. Another little mistake in my file; weeks aren't months... I told her to get the thing out and she did. Nothing was to be found on the screen anyhow.

Next up was the wonderful berry mix, room temperature Barium Coctail. It was presented to me in a beautiful QUART bottle. I had to drink the whole thing. Besides the foul taste the only thing I could think about was how-to-not-barf. Somehow I managed. A little bit more traumatized, but in control of the "let's see what I have" situation.

The options were appendicitis, ectopic pregnancy, a cyst or popped stitches.

After three hours I got to get my CT scan. Once you walk into a hospital, slip in the gown, time stands still. The time zone is H. Ospital, not PST anymore.

The nurse is very friendly. She offers my hero child something to eat and drink and she explains to me what is going to happen. First, I will get a hotflash. Next, I would feel like peeing my pants. Next it was over.

I have been scared by medicine before, especially by how fast they take effect! So, I was in a panic, but couldn't show it, I had to be big for my kid.

The fluid goes into my IV, it burns the crap out of my arm. I get scared. The hotflash roars through my body like a bullet train. The privates feel like they are on fire. Horrible horrible thing! When I get scared or shocked I throw up. My parents call me the "Puker". I had to focus really hard on keeping the BBB mix in.( Yep, I gave it a pet name; beautiful berry barium mix)

When they roll me out of the machine I start a terrible itch. Everywhere, especially "down there". The verdict; Ionide allergy. Bad one too for that matter. I am red as a beet with more welts than a panther has spots. I have trouble breathing and feel like I sucked on an iron spoon, YUK!

I was sent down with Benadryl in my IV.

Another hour later I was dismissed. I am slightly anemic, my hormones are out of whack and I had an ovarian cyst that ruptured. The fluid from the cyst  sits in the abdomen cavity and that hurts bad for a while. The bleeding stopped and there was nothing they could do.

Six hours later I walked out. I was tired from the Benadryl, surprised that I could STILL have gynecological problems requiring emergency visits but proud as can be, looking at my son already digging in some mud on the parkinglot.

The man is my hero. He offered to drink the barium for me! What a guy!

The end. For now.

The seeking attention from female parts ends again. I hope...

And if that didn't exist, I just invented it.

This story is about my neighbor Paul. He died last week, all by himself, undiscovered for days. He was my friend. He was a retired actor for theatre, a diabetic, he suffered from hepatitis and schizophrenia.

We met in my front garden, one balmy evening in June. He asked if this was my garden and I said he could take a number if he wanted to complain. My neighbors don't like my garden, and some of them came over to tell me that. He said he loved it, and that was new to me!

The people on my part of the street hate it because it changed the feeling of the neighborhood, they like grass and I don't. The people down the street love it. They are open to change, they are modest and friendly. The people on my end are snobs, judgmental and very snooty.

Paul was an insomniac as well, and he avoided walks in the daytime, he came by when all people were asleep. He told me my garden gave him so much joy, he loved the fruit trees and the wildlife coming to it.

When Paul took his medicine, he was healthy and the voices in his head were silent. That was the Paul we knew. When he didn't take his medicine, he locked himself inside his house with the curtains closed for days, until the other personalities went away.

We wouldn't see him for a while, but we knew why. The other people in his head weren't nice and friendly as he was. The real Paul encouraged our children to be helpful and inquisitive, and they all loved him. He helped the people around him when they had chores they couldn't do by themselves, and if he wasn't actively helping, he would talk and keep them company.

Two years ago his wife left him. He was devastated because of it, and never had a bad word to say about anybody, including his ex wife. He blamed himself and found he was an incompetent husband.

When she left, Paul ran out of money. But he wouldn't take help from the state. He had no more health insurance and didn't take his medicine anymore. He couldn't pay his bills so he lived in a house with no heat and he only used electricity if he had to. Those are things us neighbors never knew.

His next door neighbors checked in on him often, they cooked for him and took him to the store. When Paul went into another black hole, they gave him some time to himself. But when Paul didn't show up for dinner a week long, Scott went into the house the back way. Scott found Paul dead. He was totally shocked and still is  very upset. There was a diary, and Scott was hoping to find solace in it.

He didn't. He read how lonely Paul was, and how he refused to take help because he didn't think he deserved it. He read how Paul struggled in life, having no money, and sharing his body with multiple people he didn't like. They scared him and bullied him. He read how Paul missed his wife, how he wished he could have done his life in a different way. Very sad, and we, we didn't know. And yet, I called him my friend...

Paul died because he didn't take his medicine anymore; he couldn't afford it. I blame society for that, the government that creates life in a way that lets the small people fall through the cracks. It was a passive suicide, Paul wrote in his diary he would die within months. He knew. Nobody is to blame, but in a way I do feel guilty. There are people around me that are so poor they can't afford the necessities in life, and I didn't know. I never saw the signs...

We don't know when the funeral will be, Paul's  ex wife owns the house, she knows Paul is gone, but she didn't come by. The neighbors who cared about Paul went to his house, and we talked about how we knew Paul, how he related to us, we talked about how we will remember him.

Paul wasn't religious, but he was spiritual. I wrote him a letter and said I would meet him on the other side. I left him two pennies to pay the boatman to cross the river.

We went into his backyard. There were a bunch of started plants in little pots. With no money to spare, Paul started his own plants from cuttings we all shared with him. I took a little rose plant. I will keep it alive, nurture it and care for it. I don't know which one it is, so I labeled it "Paul's Rose".

When I came home with it my husband said it shows I liked Paul; I declared for ever I don't like roses. And I didn't until I saved Paul's rose.

When I had just started gardening here when we moved four summers ago, my son said I loved my plants more than him, and he couldn't even eat them! That's how my fruit tree obsession started. I planted one cherry tree but realized it would never set fruit without cross pollination. In Belgium, where I grew up, everybody has fruit trees. Cross pollination "just happens". Over here it doesn't, and before I knew it, I had fifty fruit trees!

And now a new obsession is budding inside of me; the roses. I bought a new apple tree yesterday ( Cox orange Pippin, UK 1830) and I couldn't resist buying three roses. One rose is so sad, it needed company. I have a whole clean slate in my backyard and I envision it with grapes, roses and apple trees. Paul has given me a new love: roses. ( I bought two climbing roses; "White Eden" and "Eden" and one rambling rose "Happy Chappy")

I will miss Paul. He was a good neighbor, he added to my life and I will never forget that.

Thank you Paul, see you on the other side...

That is what one of my kindergartners came to tell me on the playground.

Hmm, my dad died in 2003, was she talking about someone else? Just then, I saw my husband walk towards me, holding my lunch in his hands. I had put it in the fridge and forgotten all about it when I left for school.

Coming from a child, I can see why she would think that was my dad. My husband is 23 years older than I am. No, correction; he was born 23 years before me. In fact, he is not older than me at all. He is just as active, goofy and silly at times as I am.

I met my husband in Bremen, Germany. I was touring with "Night of the Proms" (Night of the Proms ), a show that has a classical orchestra and choir, and invites pop artists as well. That year we had TOTO as a headliner and Huey Lewis and the News as a second headline.

I was in the choir and my husband was one of the artists. He and his band came over to do the Germany part of the show.

To save you from having to read the whole story, we fell in love and got married.

On my part of the fence it sounded like this; "How old is he?!", "WHAT does he do for a living?!", and a bunch more that are even uglier, I was in it for the money, it was never going to work, I couldn't move to the US, he was old enough to be my dad and so on. On his side it was said that he wanted a "trofee girlfriend", you can't "get" a woman with a toddler, what will your children think, and "She is young enough to be your daughter!"

The road has been long and not easy, but that had to do with immigration, not with the crap mentioned above. I took the chance, my husband took the chance. We both lost a few friends but is was well worth it. Like any new relation, we had to find out about each other. The many miles between us made us take the plunge earlier than we would have otherwise.

We proved all the doubters wrong. The gossip still goes on every year that the tour recommences, but my friends know how we feel by now.

We got married 2 years ago, and we are very happy together. Forget the age difference. Do we have anything in common, can we make the difference in culture enrich our lives, are we on the same energy level, do we communicate well, do we feel the same about raising children, those are things that matter.

We still get "funny" looks every now and again, people ask me what my dad wants to drink in the restaurant, they tell me that my dad may wait in the waiting room when I go visit my OB/Gyn, they ask my son if grampa is picking him up after school. We laugh and let it go. Life is too short to worry about what other people think.

So, I introduced my student to my husband, and she apologized for her mistake.  That is what good manners are for, and I am still laughing about it. The truth out of the mouth of babes, isn't that the reality?!

Have a good one,

CC

This video is NOTP 2003, the Belgium show. My husband isn't in it, the German version dissapeared from Utube.

My Dearest Uterus,

It has been almost three weeks since we last were together. Although it was my choice for us to separate, I must admit that I do miss You. We have had many wonderful days together, and I can remember exactly when I first became aware of You.

It was a Christmas evening, I was eleven, and the whole family sat around the dinner table. When You announced your presence, I was stunned, shocked.

My mother made the announcement official by raising her glass in our honor speaking the words "Our little one has become a woman!" I wished I was dead! All eyes on me, and what for!!!

The day after my mother explained to me what all this fuss was about. You and I were together forever, and we would care for a child together one day.

Fifteen years later I had to remember these words when the doctor explained to me that I was EXPECTING. Expecting what I wondered. A child of course he said, as if I should have known that myself. You and I were not really "living together" then. We shared a body, but I didn't know what you were up to, and I always supposed you didn't know much more about me. For thirty eight weeks and five days you took care of my unborn child. You nurtured him, protected him, and gave us some fun moments together. When it was time for my son to meet the world, I became aware of your real powers; the pain was unbearable. But I considered it necessary and forgave you, bien sur!

For a long time after that, we lived in harmony. Every month You reared your head, letting me know You were still alive. With not too much discomfort, those days passed.

The last ten years however, You became pushy my dear. You wanted to procreate, and I couldn't. I don't have life under total control, and more children weren't in the stars for me. You should have accepted that. Then you got that nasty endometriosis, and I tried to have You fixed.

But, alas, you continued to be extremely stubborn. When we were younger, that would have been totally understandable. But now, at our age, You were not supposed to be so stubborn, throwing tantrums when I could least expect them.

You hurt me so bad, Dearest, I remember sitting in airports all over our country, crying, folding double with pain, people staring at me. You have ruined my vacations, my dinners, play dates with our child, You have caused me to miss classes in school, miss work, and miss LIFE in general.

Don't think I just decided to toss You out the window without thought. Have I not tried everything I could to save You? Yes I did, but to no avail. Lastly, the idea of your eviction started to grow in my head. I have spent many sleepless nights thinking about a solution that would keep us together.

When You gave me so much pain I had to be taken out of my house in an ambulance, leaving my sleeping child behind, I had to do something. It took me a year of counseling with friends, family and myself before I could even think about the word HYSTERECTOMY.

It hurt me too to see You go. I would have loved to keep You in my garden, I would have loved to hold You in my hands. I would have told You all this to your face. But the medical system worked against all that.

Therefor, all I am left is my memory of you. May I please thank You ever so much for all You did? I do not take that lightly, and will be forever in your debt.

Please forgive me, and maybe one day You can understand why our paths had to separate... Whenever You are ready, send me a letter, I would love to hear your story. 

All my love,

Yours, CC

PS; You looked great in the picture I have!

I had planned on planting a crabapple tree on my late uterus. That story didn't have a happy end, I didn't get my 'part', but I decided to plant a crabapple in Her memory anyhow.

At least, that was the new plan. But being the 'plant-o-holic' I am, I should have known the outcome before I ended up here. This is here; I went on 'Dave's Garden', where I am a member, and I researched my choices for days. When that was over, I came up with four crabapples and three antique apples.

The antique apples are super exciting; they are all varieties that you can't buy in the stores, and they have a superior taste to the store bought kinds. I bought  these crabs; 'Whitney Crab', 'Red Vein', and I have two more coming, but I don't know which varieties yet, as they are a present from Dave Wilson's Nursery, in return for sending them pictures of my home orchard. The ones that I listed as 'want-haves' are 'Candied Apple', 'Echtermeyer', 'Prariefire' and 'Royalty'. The antique apples are 'Golden Russet', 'Mutsu' and 'Calville Blanc'. ( The 'Red Vein and 'Whitney Crab' are antique too, and they have fruit big enough to eat.)

The antique trees come from an organic farm; "Trees Of Antiquity" and the others from Wilson.

Five of them arrived today, and I can't plant them because the soil is still too wet, and I may not do heavy work for four more weeks. The trees are all bare root and need to be planted right away. That's when I realized I have Good Gardening Friends!

I called my local nursery, " Sunnyside Nursery " and asked Ross , one of the owners if he could lend me a hand. He asked if I have pots and soil, and I don't. So he promised to come over tomorrow with pots, soil and his muscle power to plant the trees for me. I didn't even buy them from him! How about such customer service! I have bought many, many, MANY plants from him, but this kind of kindness really moves me! ( And no, I don't think that being married to a rockstar made him help me, he loves plants, and so do I!)

Many of my fruit trees already have visible flowerbuds, and that excites me very much. Last year I ate so many plums off my tree I got, hum, bowel problems! I have different varieties of all my fruit so it ripens successively, and that is so much fun. We also had peaches, nectarines, pluots ( 75% plum parentage + 25% apricot parentage), apples, pears, no apricots, (the heavy frosty winter killed my apricot tree), figs and cherries.

I have bought many currant berries and gooseberries, because they are a childhood memory and I can't find them in stores here. I forgot the varieties and it is too dark outside to go look now. I might list them later.

Winter has given me plenty of citrus also, and that makes for a full year of fruit, organically grown right here in my garden. I also have four different Filberts, they are hard with cross pollination, so four is a safe number. Those will become large shrubs, but I bought them thrift minded last year and they will take a few more years to bear.

I have many flowering shrubs that set berries for the birds also. I love to provide wildlife with a healthy meal! The last flush of flowers on my perennials I leave so the birds can eat the seedheads on them. ( No invasive species).

The birds that hang out this time of the year are the Titmouse, all kinds of Finches, Western Scrubjays and Juncos. In March they will be joined by the American Robins, American Blackbirds, and some others that I don't know -yet-.

The deer aren't here yet and that is good. One year they ate all my fruit blossoms, bulbs that were ready to flower ( even summer flowering bulbs!) and they stomp through the yard like they own it. In fall, when they are in the rut, they scrape the bark off the trees to get rid of their antlers and they poop! The raccoons aren't a problem if we keep the garbage in the garage and skunks run away when they see people.

A lot moves here at night, even bobcats and the rare mountain lion.    

I'll post pictures of Ross planting my dormant trees! ( Little update;the man is so speedy and I am such a talker; I didn't get pictures!)

Later, Christie

Today the pathology report came in. It is official; there was nothing wrong with my uterus. That made me a bit sad, why couldn't She and I get along then? Why all the pain? I had a healthy part of me removed, because I had to. It took over my life, because it ruined me.

And I am sad. I had to explain to my son why I am sad, and he is a very smart and emotionally smart young man. He understood.

Today is the first day of my period without the uterus. How can that be you ask? Because I kept my ovaries and tubes. The hormonal changes go on as if nothing has changed, and I feel it.

I have always loved the hormonal changes in my body. Before a period I would be more introverted, loving, emotional and more creative. I was in touch with myself and the world around me, and it all made sense. I have always loved all cycles; the seasons, the tides, day and night. They connected me with the greater whole.

Today I have to celebrate my first period without the bleeding. It still is a period, but without the pain, without having to put my life on hold, going into a Vicodin comatose period for days just to live!

I made sense out of my sadness talking to my son. I cut away a part of my body, my castle. Without my body, there would be no me. I live in this body, it is home to my heart and soul. And I changed that body for ever, I hurt it. I changed the body that was given to me by my parents. I know I had to, but it is sad after all.

I held my hand with my other hand. My hand is part of me, I can hold it whenever I want to. My baby was part of me, I got to hold him whenever I wanted. My uterus was part of me, yet I didn't get to hold it, see it, bring it home with me. Who came up with this cruel treatment? When is a part of you out of your control, and why? To me it isn't fair. Because I decided to take it out, it wasn't mine anymore? That is not right! I did what I had to, but knowing that it was healthy makes me sad and mad. How could this happen to me?! How come there was no cure for it? I tried everything, for years on end. Nothing would help me, except, as my doctor told me, getting pregnant. And that was not an option for me.

She chose her path for herself. And I have to live with the consequences. And sometimes that just hurts, no matter how "right" the decision was!

I have thought hard and deep the last year, making sure I wanted to follow this course. I still am, but these feelings are completely new to me. I have to get to know this body all over again. When you take some part away it doesn't just change in the area where the thing used to live, it changes the whole body and mind. I have to find a new balance, and that will take time. Healing physically will take 8 weeks, 6 months, 1 year, there are several levels of healing. But nobody prepared me for this.

In a way it will be an interesting journey. Re-finding myself can be an enriching experience. It will be fun, but also a bit scary. I feel like I have lost a dear friend. There are many phases of dealing with grief, even when you initially didn't think you would grieve. That is how I feel. Contradicting feelings, but straight thoughts. After all, that isn't such a hard place to be in.

I am going to write my uterus a letter. I was sure some woman had done it before me, and I typed it into Google. There are many letters to Her out there. Some funny, some kind of rude and mean, but all women deal with it in their unique way and I am not judging.

Today I worked too hard. It is a tricky thing when all your stitches are on the inside. They are easily forgotten. I took out the trash ( had to, I am home alone with the youngster), emptied and refilled the dishwasher, washed some heave big pots, wiped the kitchen surfaces ( that was particularly hard, notice how many different muscles you use for that!) and scooped the cat litter boxes. By the end of all that I was exhausted and had pain in my back and around the surgery site.

My left incision is infected, there is something oozing out of it now, and I need to take oral antibiotics for a week. This is not just a scrape, this wound goes into my bowels. I hurts and burns. I have overdone it. I wasn't paying attention to my bodies commands, I would have noticed if I did!

To all Hystersisters out there; REST! Even when you feel good, when you could do it, you can't! Take that from me!

Be well

CC

Thursday last week I went into the hospital for my LAVH. We had to be there at 6 in the morning, which was a Royal Pain to me, as I am not an early riser, but it was probably easy too; get up and go. No time to miss my morning rituals, such as coffee sipping in the garden, and no time to rethink. The night before I couldn't drink or eat, the normal, and Wednesday I only ate a soup and a salad. Although, after I was in my patient dress with IV and all, with too much time to think ( DH had to leave half an hour before "show time") I had about a minute of doubt. I wanted to call it quits, but found it a silly thought, pre op jitters. I'd be back the next month after my period, for sure!! The nurse who prepared me was the most unsuitable person for the job. She asked me all the questions on her list, and continued to say I shouldn't be there for such a surgery at my age. Gee nurse, how helpful!! After a year of turmoil in my head, going back and forward on the idea and dealing with the loss of my uterus, she puts that in my head! My gyn surgeon came to talk with me, making sure I wanted to go ahead, he announced my pregnancy test came back negative ( didn't even know they did one!) and telling me not to worry. The anesthesiologist came by too, and he was the one I requested. He did my laparoscopy last time, and I like him very much. Before even coming into my cubby, he said " Hi Christelle, how wonderful you look in a space suit!" ( I was covered with a blow up blanket filled with warm air). He had offered me two choices on the phone the night before and needed to know which one I was going for. The choices were a longer total anesthesia or a shorter one combined with an epidural. I chose the shorter one, because I had asked him the night before which one he would choose for himself, and he chose that one.

At exactly 7:30 the wheeled me to the theatre. It looked smaller than the one I had been in before, older and a tad run down. There were about 20 people in there, unrecognizable with their masks, and they were whispering. We needed a joke to break the ice! I asked if they were waiting for a baseball game on TV ( screen needed for surgery) and got some smothered giggles. Two old wrinkly nurses were on my sides, they were wonderful! I had to lean forward for the back procedure, and the doctor nicely explained everything he was doing, why and how it would feel. That helped a lot, I am a very jumpy person when touched unbeknownst to me and like to know the nuts and bolts. The first medicine in a row made my back and legs feel like there was lead being forced in them. It didn't hurt, but was very creepy. The next drug was supposed to make my legs all warm and tingly but it only went into my right leg. I worried about that, but the crew didn't. Next thing I laid down on the table, and felt some juice running through the IV. It felt like ice and burnt like a bee sting. I hadn't much time to worry, I got all goofy and tired. The nurse put the mask on me and the anesthesiologist asked me where we were going. I told them Kapalua Bay on Maui, we are going snorkeling. The doctor said with a loud voice " Put your masks on, we're going under" and that was the last thing I remember. I learned that it is important to go under with a good thought, because that sets the mood when you wake up afterwards.

Almost 3 hours later I woke up in recovery, the same cubicle I was in before. I had the oxygen tubes in my nose, and had a PCA, a self controlled pain pump with morphine that I could have administer medicine every 5 minutes if I felt I needed it. I had those anti blood clot things around my legs, all they way up to my thighs. It pumped in a pulsating way, quite agreeable to me! I was in no pain at all, and had my two biggest fears over with; not going to sleep and having a lot of pain upon wakening.

I was by myself in a room of 2 for a day and a night, and that was nice. The weather was just awful, storms with a lot of wind and rain that almost caused a bad flood again. I pushed my pump every 30 minutes and had a catheter so I didn't have to get up to pee. I kept on the super pushy thingies on my legs until I could get up and until the itch had me scraping off my skin. ( Good old Benadryl served 2 purposes; itch and ssssleep!!)

The service in the hospital was bad. I didn't get washed for 3 days and got no clean sheets. The first 2 days I was on a clear liquid diet, which wasn't too bad I realized when my real food came on Friday night. Unbearably bad, I couldn't eat it. I am not particular with food, but this was worse that play food in Kindergarten! I sent it back and requested my liquids again.

My husband came by often with our son, whenever I was awake. I begged him for a sugar donut and a coffee, and he brought it to me. It all went down with no problems. The only thing that made me nauseous was the morphine, and Friday afternoon I asked  them to take away the pump and the catheter. I knew I wasn't allowed to go home before I had peed 200 CC on my own and before I could get out of bed by myself and walk. The gas they pumped in my belly was very painful I was swollen like a balloon, and remembered from last time I could only get rid of it by frequent walks. Johnny took me on my first walk, and my 2 men held my hands. That felt  so good!

On Hystersisters, the website that helped me enormously before my surgery, they say that we go into the " castle" ( hospital) to become a princess. My men made me a beautiful crown and I wore it with pride! I had finally done it!!

Friday afternoon I got a roommate, she was the queen of complaint and drama. Very hard to live with! ( For a minor surgery even and she pushed the beep pump every 5 minutes, which kept me awake in the day as well.)

Saturday at noon my doctor came by and I told him I was going home, with or without his blessings! The hospital seemed to have failed to notice I was there most of the time, and I had enough of it! Every hour of the night  I got woken up for " vitals" and sleep was what I needed most! I was on Percocet and gasX, and got released. My blood pressure had been up and down a lot, ranging from 110 /70 to 50/ 30. I needed SLEEP!

For 3 days I stayed in bed, and got up occasionally to take my little walk. I was taking my "poopie pills", as the doctor had warned me the medicine has a way of putting a stop on bowel movements. On Monday night that became very obvious.

I needed to go Number Two, but couldn't. I had just enough time to call out for my husband, threw up and passed out. Next thing I laid on the floor with enormous labor pains and convulsions. It was the most painful experience I ever had. Delivering a child had been easier! I couldn't even cry, all I could do was moan uncontrollable. DH called the doctor on hold, and it turned out to be my doctor. I screamed for an epidural but didn't get it. DH sent a neighbor to Longs to get me an enema. Not pretty, not fun, but the only cure for my pain. 10 Minutes later I got rid of something the size of a shoe and I felt better but exhausted!

The next morning I took my last 2 Percocet, or any other pain pill for that matter!

I feel 75% myself again, but tire very easily. Every now and again I get pangs and pinches of pain in my bowels, but nothing to be concerned about.

No house work for me for 2 weeks, but I feel good; in my head, heart and body.

Now I've really won the battle!! After so many years, I am cured!

The doctor sent the uterus to the pathology lab, but so far no results. He did say that everything looked good, I had a text book operation and less than normal blood loss.

I have 3 cuts on my lower abdomen, about a half inch long and they don't hurt. They look a bit bruised and are sore around them. The one on my left looks a bit red and swollen, so I should have that checked out, even though it doesn't hurt unless I touch or rub it.

As soon as I know more I'll let you know!

CC

...cleaned up the front yard. The storms we had blew a lot of branches and leaves around, some pots broke and I will not have time to clean it up until the second week of March. ( More on that later)

The sun was out, but the wind was mighty cold. We have a cold front from Alaska coming in, and temperatures will go way down this coming week.

Blooming already are my Hamamelis " Jelena", the Hamamelis " Primavera" and the flowering quinces. The citrus trees have done beautifully, I have been eating mandarins, clementines, kumquats and limes but the oranges, lemons and grapefruit aren't ripe yet.

We have had enough rain and cold to satisfy all trees and flowering shrubs, it has been a good winter so far!

Some shrubs are about ready to wake up but it will be a month or so until they break dormancy. I can feel the spring fever creeping in my blood!!

The kitten is growing like lettuce, he gained 13 ounces in 12 days. ( For us Europeans; about a half a kilo that is!)

Olliver sometimes plays with him, sometimes sleeps with him, although it is a tense peace. Ollie isn't too sure about the intentions of the little bugger yet!

Sparkie is nursing the baby, she sleeps with him, washes him and plays with him.

At night Nutella sleeps with me, he is a sweet young man by now! He came very socialized, not much can throw him off!

Tomorrow I have an appointment at the hospital, I am checking in to have my surgery on Thursday.

I have decided on LAVH, keeping the ovaries and tubes and nodes. Bye bye uterus and cervix. Too much pain and the pre-cancer on the cervix gave me the scare of a lifetime! I will be in the hospital for a day and a night, and will be off work for 2 weeks. ( Taking it very easy for 6 weeks)

I had another birthmark removed from my neck, and it showed displastic cells, in other words, it was on its way to become a melanoma. Good thing I get checked so often, 3 out of 4 moles were cancerous.

I am not a religious person, but if you would like to say a prayer for me I would gladly accept that. I already had a heart to heart with Mother Nature, asking for a fast recovery for myself.

DH and DS are a bit worried, but they haven't anticipated the surgery like I have. I have been living the idea for several months now, and I have peace with losing the uterus. Really.

I will ask the surgeon not to send the remains to the lab. For one reason, I don't want to pay to know what I "had". It will be gone, and that is fine by me. The other reason is a bit more peculiar.

I want to bring it home and plant it in my garden. I have a few trees in my head that I consider planting with it.

The idea is a purple leafed, weeping crabapple to be symbol of the cycles, the flow and the life that the uterus once supported. The tree will be a good pollinator for my apples and the fruit is very good for wildlife. Everybody happy.

The ones that I am considering are Malus " Royalty" ( not weeping but keeping the red leaf throughout the summer), Malus " Echtermeyer" and Malus " Royal Fountain". The last two are weeping but don't keep their purple/red leaves for long. The leaves turn green/chartreuse in summer.

Any ideas, tips, comments greatly appreciated.

Have a great Doctor Martin Luther King Junior weekend. ( Happy birthday Doctor King, I haven't forgotten about you!

Update.

I am afraid I won't be able to bring my uterus home, and maybe not even a piece of it either. " BIO HAZZARD". Yeah, sure. I don't have a disease, I have endometriosis  and adenomyosis, that is not going to pollute Mother Nature.

Anyhow, I have an appointment with my doctor on Wednesday, and I will try to bring home a piece at least. Whatever happened to " my body, my castle" ?

One of my finches got out, my cleaninglady slid out the tray a bit, and so I had a chance to look inside the nest while the cage was on the ground. There are two baby birds, about the size of a penny! I was told it will be another two months or so before they venture out.

New update 01/22/2008

Alright; the pre-op jitters are officially here... I know I need this surgery, I know I want it, but the feeling is starting to get on the creepy side. All will be over before I can say boo!

The last word about the faith of the remains of my uterus are in. My OB called and referred me to the pathology lab. He said he is obliged to send it to the pathology lab entirely or he could lose his license.

So I called the pathologist, and it was a woman! Made it a bit easier to plead my case, although pleading doesn't work against the law. The tissue gets put into formaldahyde immediately, for it takes a while to study the whole thing. After that, it becomes a bio-hazzard, because of the chemicals they need to put it in, not because of it itself.

So, it is against the law for them to hand it over to me. I could involve a funeral undertaker, he would be able to receive the remains for me, but that would be too much of a hassle, nevermind the pricetag!

So th lady pathologist and I made a compromise; she will make large pictures of it, note its weight and size, and send that to my OB. She may not send it to me, the law again, but my doctor can give it to me.

I will make a copy of that and burry that under my tree... A bit dissapointed, but there is no winning this battle!

I will save my energy for battles I CAN win, I plan on winning the battle against the pain!

*** Happy New Year !! ***

  Today, one of my kindergartners said:

" My New Years Revolution is to help my mom more."

In 2008 I will....

* Plant less ( or at least cheaper plants?)

* Eat less chocolate ( at once)

* Drink less coffee ( decaf ok?)

* Not kick my DH when he snores ( but pet him instead)

* Stop biting my nails ( some of them at least)

* Put the clean laundry away before we have to jump over 7 baskets ( already  had to promise DH that if I wanted the new kitty)

* Play more ( with kids, cats and adults)

* Bring out the recycling before the truck has to wait for me ( well, I'll try)

* Drink regular milk instead of half and half ( every now and again)

* Teach my cats tricks ( Yippee!)

* Not buy any more pets ( really!)

* Call my family more often ( on MSN of course)

* And all the things that were in my resolution for 2007, 2006, 2005 ( if I can still find them)

* Yeah, sure! ( add to lists 2007, 2006, 2005)

I am thankful for my son, my shiny star on the firmament, who cheers me up like nobody's business! In him, I see all generations past and generations yet to come. Watching him grow and learn marks time in a great way.

I am thankful for my husband, my rock, my companion, the one who knows what's up even before I said it. His smile in the morning when he wakes me up gets me going in a pleasant way. ( the coffee he brings me with that smile helps too) His energy feeds me, his humour keeps my gloom at bay. His drive in life is inspiring.

I am thankful for Mammie and Pappie, who have welcomed me into their family with all of their love. They give me valuable life lessons, and their 60 year long marriage is an example for me. Going home to them makes time go by fast, the oldfashioned spirit that lives there is calming and nurturing.

I am thankful for my foster family who has raised me with all the love and values I am passing on to my son now. Whenever I need them, they are still there to raise me some more, this time as mother and wife.

I am grateful for my work, the children who accept my guidance and support, the teacher who gently shows me the tricks that work, who compliments me in real words instead of platitudes.

I am grateful for my animals who give me friendship and show me unconditional, everlasting love. With them, time stands still and I can refill my energy.

I am grateful for my garden, the plants who patiently take me through the seasons, the trees that give me their wonderful fruit, the flowers that colour my world.

I am grateful for the bees that polinate the blossoms on my trees, without them there would be no fruit.

I am grateful for the flocks of birds that visit my garden, looking for shelter, food and water, in an evergrowing world I am proud to be able to offer them an organic environment.

I am grateful for the sun, the rain and the wind. I am grateful for the day and the night, the balance of life.

I am grateful for my friends who like me even when I am unlikable, who listen to my lame jokes and who take my rambling on the phone as a plus.  

I am grateful of being in my new country where there is peace and abundance for my family.

And I am grateful for my health. It was rocky at times, but I made it through as healthy as can be.

Thank you to all for making my list so long.

With love, Christie