Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving this year I found it a bit harder to be overjoyed and thankful; I definitely had to work a LOT harder to feel thankful than in years past where my whole family was present and in good health.

Maybe I sound melo-dramatic, but the month of November has been pretty darn crappy! November 1st, my Papa passes away. November 21, I have surgery with life-changing results. My Nanny went to the hospital on November 22 (and had other episodes disbursed throughout the month) and I've just been feeling stressed lately. So yeah, it was harder to find that joy this year. I know you have to take the bad with the good, and that's what kept me going.

I know I am an incredibly lucky young woman. I have an AMAZING support system; I have the best mother, the best siblings, and the best fiance a girl could ask for. (Now I'm not saying everything is always peachy, lol). I have a great step-dad and the sweetest, most perfect Nanny in the universe. I have the two BEST and cutest doggies in the world (one of which is dreaming and running in her sleep, making cute noises right now). I have an INCREDIBLE home that we can call ours and grow into. I have everything anyone could need and lots of things that are just wants. I have my true close friends who are there for me through the hard times. And I have my integrity, my strong sense of self and purpose, and my morals/values.

I am very blessed and thankful, though I miss my Papa more than imaginable and I wish I didn't have certain things to deal with. But at the end of the day, I know God will never give me more than I can handle. I feel like I'm handling myself fairly well.

Inspiration

This is my inspiration post. For my bad days. I got most of them from a 'Bee post, I think a lot are originally from Pinterest. <3

Post-Surgery Update 2 - The details

So, here is what I know.

I have Endometriosis. I have PCOS. And I had some sort of scar tissue.

Now let me elaborate. Remember they told me I didn't have PCOS, that's why we were doing this surgery? To make sure it was Endo? Well. It was Endo. But it was also PCOS. Now, how could they miss it on the ultrasound and then find it during surgery? Easy. The cysts are INSIDE my ovaries, not on the outside. So they missed the PCOS before.

They found several "pockets" of Endometriosis - three of which Doc burned off (to the best of her ability) and one of which was removed for biopsy. Also, they did whatever to the scar tissue. The other Doc's "angry uterus" comment began to make sense when I was told that the Endo was mainly on the back side of my uterus and on the right side -- well that explains why I had pain on my right side more than my left. And the PCOS being inside the ovaries explains why I don't ovulate regularly (if at all?) and why everything is so wonky.

So, I've been explained for the most part. Now comes the "fun" part....making huge, possibly life-altering decisions. In essence, Doc told mom and Seth that "if the normal couple takes 10 months to conceive, your timeline would be more like 1.5 years." And she said if it did indeed take longer than a year, there would be room for medical (read: hormonal drug) intervention.

So we should be able to have babies, hopefully, though there is no guarantee and it will take us much longer than your average couple. I still have a hard time understanding accidental pregnancies because there are literally very few days of a month you can get pregnant! Insanity. And really, that's jealousy. I wish we could just be like "Oh we are pregnant!" Instead of charting, counting, tracking, planning like we will most likely have to. But again, I'm just jealous.

I started to do a tiny bit of follow up research (the first I've done since finding out for sure what I do/do not have) and it basically says the longer you wait, the faster your chances deterioriate. So that scares the living hell out of me.

We're not ready for a baby right this very second - though I have no doubt we could make it work and figure it out over the next 9-10 months if we needed to. Also...if it's really going to take that long to get pregnant, the earliest we'd theoretically have a baby would be 2014. (Assuming the factors were: we waited until March 3 to start trying and it took 1-1.5 years to get pregnant, plus the 9 months of pregnancy.) Then again, God works in mysterious ways, and we could have a baby as early as 2013. We've agreed pretty much that we want to at least be married before we actively try. That's what we've agreed on so far.... the rest is not determined. We shall see, folks.

All I know is...I will at least be 22 and Seth 24, more likely 23 and 25...and if it takes loner than planned 24 and 26, or older. This makes us think a lot about our career choices, school choices, life choices. And we still need to sit down and discuss...which we will, soon.

Post-Surgery Update 1

Well, the good news is I made it! The bad news is: OUCCCHHHHHH!! Urgh.

So here's my fairly detailed recap. Monday, 11/21/11 I had my surgery. I didn't sleep very much the night before - I slept maybe 5 hours. I woke up around 5:45 and took my second "hospital soap" shower that I was required to use. It's got a really awkward brush and smells kind of odd, but whatever. I got my glasses & contacts, packed a small bag, put on comfortable clothing and Seth and I left for the hospital.

We arrived at about 7:10 am and waited in the parking lot for my Mom. At 7:20 am we went inside. I was schedule to be there at 7:30. You know how I love to be early and all that. So we wait and then they call my name and my stomach drops to my feet (or rather...I get up and walk to the back, but really, I was screaming in my head.) The nurse has me go take a pregnancy test (ha) and then I go to the bathroom. I change into my ugly gray hospital gown that was huge and I take 2 Xanax and something else. I can't remember what. We do the whole temperature, blood pressure, sign papers and releases thing.

Then they try to start my IV and the fun begins! The first nurse tried my left forearm, and my left elbow area (?). The next one tried my right hand. Then they decide, ok we'll just let the anesthesia department do it. So I get wheeled up there...By the way, laying on a bed in an elevator is kind of freaky and a bit nauseating. I have my kiss my mom & Seth goodbye (and almost cry, though I don't think they saw) and am wheeled into a weird room. They argue about whether I am allergic to iodine or neosporing (Iodine people, it says so on one of my many colorful hospital bracelets) and then this mean nurse lady demands I take my contacts out even though I was told downstairs that they would be fine. She goes to get my contact case from Seth. Same lady also has the Dr in to check on a rash I had on my belly button (heat rash, I think, ew).

Then an anesthesiologist guy is going to try my IV. Remember, this is stick number 4. And this needle? Yeah. It's not small. It's almost as long as my pinky. So he tries my elbow on my left arm. No dice. The girl with him tries my left wrist (holy crap this one hurts, they warned me but damn! wrists are sensitive!) and again...nope. FINALLY, on try number SIX, they get it in my right wrist. Ouch! It really did hurt. But I was just glad it was finally freakin' working. I look like a pincushion.

So right after the IV drip starts working, crazy mean nurse lady demands I take my contacts out. Lady, my arms are sore. I've sorta been poked 954058943594 times and I'm starting to feel it and you want me to do WHAT?! I finally get my contacts out and shoot her a glare before they wheel me down the hall.

We get into the surgery room, I'm transferred over to the operating table, my arms are strapped down so I don't move/the needle doesn't come out. They put some things on my legs - that vibrate and massage, to help with blood flow, and then I'm told to take deep breaths from an oxygen mask thing. I do this......and then.......goodnight world.

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I wake up two hours later with a sore throat, sore stomach, and goopy stuff in my eyes. I woke up at 11:11 - I'm so lucky. ;) ha. I kept trying to cough because of the stupid breathing tube and the nurse had to hold my stomach still so it didn't hurt too. That was great fun.

I vaguely remember seeing the Dr, she told me that she had removed some Endometriosis and there were other things she'd tell me at post-op. Also, I remember her saying she'd told Mom & Seth and she made a joke about men not remembering stuff. One of the guy surgeons said something about my "angry uterus" which made me go "Wth?" I later found out what that meant...I think. Lol. ***To be expanded upon later***

I was wheeled downstairs, given some ginger ale (thank you!!) and then I had to pee. Standing up? NOT FUN. I felt nauseated, my stomach hurt more than I though two incisions could and sitting down? Psh. The first couple of hours were pretty terrible.

The anesthesia wearing off also gave me the shakes. Ha. That's always good when you feel like you got hit by a bus, right? Lol. I'm being a bit dramatic on that part, but really, this is the worst pain I think I've ever felt in a concentrated area for sure. I slowly was wheeled out to the car (after Seth had to help me do EVERYTHING to dress - I just despise feeling helpless). I felt like I was going to throw up just riding in a wheelchair. We went by Mom's house and got my prescriptions and then came home. It literally took me probably 5 minutes to get up the stairs. But, I made it. I laid down ever-so-gracefully (hahaha) and then was out for, Oh, I don't know. The next several hours.

I woke up and was ready for some sustenance at around 8 or 9 pm. Seth made me some "Tokyo soup" and a grilled cheese. Yum. It was the perfect meal since I hadn't eaten in 24 hours. Went back to be around 11 pm and slept pretty much until 12 pm the following day (yesterday). Mom came to get me around 1:30. I still felt like crap, but "ok." Yesterday was not just a recovery day...it turned into an even worse day.

We found Nanny at her house, passed out on the floor. Her sugar had gotten down to 31 and she'd passed out face down in her kitchen. The oven was on. I had to call 911 (where I talked to the LEAST HELPFUL 911 DISPATCHER EVER IN THE WORLD) and then the paramedics got there and got her sort of stable. They took her to the hospital, ran some tests, made her eat and gave her something... and yeah. Mom had to drop me & Ava off at her house because I couldn't drive since, you know, I was 1 day post-surgery. Ava had to basically take care of me yesterday and she did a great job. Kept me covered in blankets, was fairly quiet. You know, pretty good.

I started hurting really badly at around 4:30/5:00 and had to take another of the strong pain pills because I'd over-exerted myself during the Nanny scare. I'm telling you guys...I was not in a good place. I was basically sitting there thinking how much the month of November has SUCKED for my family. I mean, could it have been any worse? I was like, No way am I about to lose my Nanny too. Not less than 3 weeks after my Papa. :'( And I felt useless because of my surgery. Which I know in all honesty I shouldn't - this surgery was necessary and I'm glad I had it (though I'm still in a blahhhhhhh place.)

So now that I've written ten THOUSAND pages for this, I'm going to stop. I'll update in a few JUST about the findings of my surgery so it doesn't get lost in this awfully long, crazy post.

Honestly? I'm angry at my body.

Gotta be honest here, I think I'm angry at my body right now. I don't know a better way to say it. My surgery on Monday is really weighing heavily on my mind, and while I am trying my hardest to approach this like I suspect a less anxious person would...that's hard! lol. My surgery is scheduled for Monday at 9:30 am. That's in less than 48 hours. Heck, that's closer to 24 hours away.

I'm nervous about the surgery itself - the anesthesia, the possible complications, the possible findings, the recovery. The whole concept is rather overwhelming. I don't like that so much of my future could possibly hinge on this one thing, or series of things. I don't like that our decisions on having/making a family could be changed so much based on what we find out on Monday. I also don't love that Seth & my Mom will know before me - is that crazy? Probably. I gave my Doc permission to tell them because otherwise I'd have to wait until freakin' December to find out. But I feel like I'll be anxious even when I'm knocked out from pain meds and anesthesia and xanax! haha. What a nutjob I can be sometimes. ;)

I don't think it helps that I've had this stupid bracelet on since Thursday (that I'm required to keep on until post-surgery) that is constantly reminding me that the deadline is quickly approaching. It doesn't help that Grad School is becoming an odd notion to me. It doesn't help that it's Thanksgiving week - the first one without my Papa. It doesn't help that I've got a diagnosed anxiety disorder. It doesn't help that I have been going from Baby Fever to completely putting the notion out of my head off and on for several weeks. WTH. And all of this compounds and now I'm angry at my stupid ladybits. I'm pissed at my ovaries/ladyparts/abdomen/etc/etc. I'm mad that I have something that doesn't REALLY have a name yet in my mind and it's only speculation. I'm mad that there are so many stupid possibilities and complications associated with this.

Why can't I just be normal, and only have to worry about NOT getting pregnant yet right now? Why can't I just go on with a normal period, normal sex-related everything. Why can't it just be easier? I know. Pity party of one right here. But what the hell, it's my blog and I need to say it. I need to express it, because it's the honest to God truth. I feel very angry. And why not express that? At least I'm trying to express in calmly and fairly rationally and without taking it out on others.

In other news - surgery sucks as a concept. And so does weird hospital soap.

AND - Zach is 15 today! What the hell. My baby brother is 15! He's going to be legally learning to drive. This time next year, he'll be 16. I feel so old! And I'm happy that he liked his presents and his birthday in general I think. :D Next time maybe Italian Ice will be open! :)

Anyways...hopefully I'll be back to update about stuff post-surgery. That was a morbid thought, but eh.

Crazy Week - Awesome Ending!

So this week was really insane adjusting to my new "role" I guess you could say. Basically, my role is that of caretaker for my Nanny during the day (plus still tutoring and watching Ava in the afternoons). Like I've said before about that...if anyone doesn't call this a "real" job they are INSANE. And are welcome to try it. ;) haha.

The week itself was pretty busy but d0-able. I'm really trying to figure out the best ways to work with Ava on her spelling - she is great at Math, but gets really frustrated with spelling words and sometimes reading. My Nanny gave me the best compliment - she kept telling me how GOOD I do with Ava. I needed to hear that, because I do get frustrated but I try not to let it show too much while we're working. I hope we can find some creative ways to work this out.

All in all, I enjoyed my week, though I was definitely ready for bed every night. There were some late days since Mom was out of town for two days, and those were the ones that I was ready to fall asleep within 2 minutes of getting in my PJs.

But the awesome ending to my week was this - last night was FCWC's Bunco for Boucher fundraiser/project! The project benefitted the family of a local (to Athens) soldier who lost his legs overseas. He's currently in a hospital up north (not going to say) and the money raised went to the family to use for plane tickets to see him over the holidays and for helping pay to renovate their house to be more wheelchair friendly and ready for him to come home! It was so great!

Not to mention, Bunco is actually pretty damn fun! haha. Seth and I were partners and we did pretty well! There were prizes for: Most Wins, Most Losses, Most Buncos, and Most Snake-Eyes. Zach got most Snake-Eyes! And won $20. And Nanny & Mom's team ALMOST got Most Buncos - it was a three-way tie between them and 2 other teams and all three teams have to "Bunc Off." <-- Yes, we all giggled at that phrase too. And they didn't win the prize. Boo. But they did really well! We had a pretty good turnout too. We ended up using 12 of the 18 tables we had set up (I think) and had more than that many people there. So I would guess around 60 people? Plus we made a lot on the Raffle sales, ticket sales, and donations for the family! Sweet right!

Happy Veterans Day yesterday - 11.11.11! And Happy Veterans Day to Michael Boucher!

I Miss You

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life, but actually Tuesday was harder. Yesterday just had more of a horrible finality to it. I hate funerals anyway, but in particular when the man we are there to honor is the best man I've ever met. When the man is the literal ONLY man that had been there for me my entire life. When the man we are honoring and remembering is my Papa.

My Papa, James R. Coody, had a massive heart attack on Tuesday morning. He was 80 years old. And while I know I was incredibly lucky to have had him around for 21.5 years of my life, I want him back. I can't remember much of my childhood that didn't have him in it. Never a holiday and rarely a major event. He kept our whole family grounded and I fear that role has now inadvertently passed to my Mom. She was already Super Woman, and now she's got to be the rock? Rock's cry too. 1.23.31-11.1.11. He would have liked that date. :) Maybe that's why God chose it for him.

I don't even know what to say or to write, I just know I had to get this out and typing is faster than writing. He would have laughed at that and called me lazy. :) He would have told me handwriting has gone to hell since computers...and he would have been right. Looking at things he wrote when he was younger, good grief was that fancy handwriting. Especially "for a guy" when you think of men's handwriting now.

We found a ton of amazing pictures that I'll scan into my computer at some point because well, I love them. And I love him. We found a picture from 1949 - a picture of him in the Navy. Several actually. They looked straight out of a vintage magazine or Pearl Harbor. It's kind of incredible looking at them and thinking "That's my Papa. Isn't he cool?"

We found Nanny & Papa's wedding pictures again. I love those. They are incredibly beautiful in their simplicity. 57 years of marriage. 57 years. I can only hope to be like that one day. And oddly, my hope is pretty real, because Seth reminds me a lot of my Papa. He already did before, but after how he handled me as I fell apart, I see it even more. Just let me cry and cry, nose running looking like I can't stop leaking. I don't know that I will any time soon. I have my moments. I can pretend composure, but it's fake. I learned from the best. ;)

The only times I ever saw my Papa cry was when HIS Mom (my great-grandma) passed away and once when he was so frustrated and feeling helpless about my Nanny. :( It's hard to watch a pillar of strength cry. It's even harder to watch a pillar of strength lie there lifeless in the ER or in a casket. But I did it. For my Nanny. She broke my heart, she really did. I haven't related the "whole story" yet, so I guess I could do that now. I got a call on Tuesday morning, around 8. It was my Mom. She told me to get ready and to head the Nanny's house or the hospital. I said I could be there in 20 mins and she said no, to go ahead a shower. I was confused, but I did it, rushing through the shower, barely drying my hair, and swiping on some obviously-not-needed makeup.

On the way there, Mark called and asked if I had left yet. I said yes. He told me that the ambulance was taking my Papa to the ER and they were performing CPR. Something about the bathroom, and to go straight there. My mom texted me that she and Nanny were in the family room (Mark was still on his way, as he'd been in PTC). I got the part of the story that he'd fallen in the bathroom. I didn't know yet that he'd had a massive heart attack and Nanny called 911. Or that they had been performing CPR to no avail.

I got to the hospital and they immediately took me to my family. My Nanny and Mommy were in tears - something rare and heartbreaking. About 1 minute before I'd gotten there, they had come in and told them that he hadn't made it. We all sat and cried and cried. I didn't know what to do. Then Mr. Tommy (one of my childhood friends' dad's) came in and asked if we wanted to see him. We did.

When we walked into that room, we lost it. We totally lost it. It was like floodgates had come open. It's not normal to see someone like that, it's just not. When my mom had to leave the room (her pastor was there) it was just me & Nanny in there and I will never, ever forget the anguish. She kept asking him what she was going to do without him, she kept telling him to come back. It was horrible. She looked so small and so frail, so lost. And after being married to someone so strong for 57 years, I imagine that she felt exactly that way. How you go from that to this new terrifying reality, I have no idea. Two words my Mom said that broke my heart..."Oh, Daddy." I will never forget these moments. I don't want to, because it proves how much we all loved him. It proves that it's not just me that feels so lost, as if it could ever be.

Later that day, after some family (his little sister Louise, niece Debra, and some others) came by, we went to get Zach from school. I hardly ever see Zach cry, and doubtless it will be a while before I witness it again. He cried when we first told him, he cried when he first saw Nanny (how could he not?) and he cried at the funeral. But other than that, my baby brother put his wall back up like he tends to do when he feels too strongly. You can't fault him for it, it's just his way of dealing.

Telling Will was probably the hardest. He feels SO much. He cried and cried and fell to the kitchen floor. I sat with him and let him cry on my shoulder. It's not as if I can control how much I cry. Well, maybe that's untrue. I had put on my brave face AFTER losing my mind and crying hard each day. I got it out once, and after that, only little bits were allowed to escape. I may sound insane, but again, that's my way of dealing. Will cried the most, I would guess, though I'm not sure. I won't compare it to me, because...I knew longer. I was there as everyone found out. And it opened that back up every time.

Little Ava has experienced so much in her short life that watching her cry is gut-wrenching as well. She can't even seem to control how much or how long she cries. :/ It's that child-related inability to control your sobs. I felt like a child at some points. Will said he felt like his childhood had died, and in a way that could be true for him. He is about to be 18 and has lost one of the strongest men he'll ever know. Zach was 18 days shy of 15. I was 21. And Ava was 7, almost 8. My Mommy was 42, almost 43 and Nanny was 77. And we'll never be the same.

Just watching the faces of my siblings crumple is enough to do me in with memory alone. Hearing my Nanny's words will haunt me forever. My mom trying to hold it together. The hugs. I felt like such a "damsel in distress" at some points, because I kept crying on people's shoulders. Mr. Tommy's at the hospital, Seth's at the house, Zach's at the visitation, Mom's at the visitation, Avery's at the visitation, and again Seth's at the visitation. Seth's the night before the funeral. That was probably the worst. That was when I realized he won't be at our wedding and he'll never meet his great-grandbabies. He loved kids SO MUCH. Anyone that knew him knew that. Melanie even talked about it at the funeral.

And of course, as we sat there during the funeral and I held Seth and Zach's hands, with tears streaming down our faces unchecked, Zach holding Will's hand. I don't think I've ever felt more peace. I felt at peace knowing that Papa was telling us to suck it up and quit the fuss; it made me smile. I do know he would have enjoyed having the military guys at his service. Since he was a Veteran, he had an American flag draped over the casket and the members from the Air Force folded it and saluted him, and presented the flag to my Nanny. He would have loved that. :) Thought it was so cool. It was; it was all for him.

I'm going to miss that man. More than I can imagine and more than I can explain. But I felt the need to get this written down so I don't forget it in my life, not that I think it will. I just don't want the small details to escape me. I should probably also note that I was annoyed with people. I know their intentions were the best, but the ones I haven't seen since I was "this small" or telling me I should "still be little" was honestly too much. I got angry almost, though it was really frustration. They were interrupting my grief process and expected me to smile and remember them and share stories. I didn't want that. I had more stories than any of those people (obviously this is not including family, but his distant, family, yes). I was just so sick of it. I didn't mind being hugged, I didn't mind it when people I KNEW knew who he was and who I was and who he was offered their condolences. I didn't mind, and even appreciated that. But when a ton of people kept saying 'You probably don't remember me, but...' I kind of wanted to say, "No I don't. And right now I don't care. Leave me alone." I refrained, but I know I was less than courteous sometimes. Particularly in the Fellowship Hall before the Funeral. Do people not understand that I want to be left alone? Do they not understand that the family wants some time alone? It was SO IRRITATING that my brother felt the need to escape or that I felt the need to ignore people and shut down. I wanted to cry. But I didn't feel like I could. I felt like all eyes were on us, scrutinizing us. I just wanted to scream GO AWAY! Leave her alone and leave us alone! But that would be rude wouldn't it. So I didn't. I just ignored most people, honestly. I sat there with my eyes closed. Most of these people didn't know my Papa as much as they knew my Nanny. He was probably ticked looking down on us. Maybe not, but I don't imagine he liked people getting all in his wife's face when she really just needed a moment alone. :/

And now I'm done, for now. I can't write anymore.