Just a brief follow up post....
It has been what, 3 or 4 weeks since my LEEP? Three I think, Anyways; I barely bled at all afterwards. Then tmi (but this whole topic is tmi), I shed some weird skin looking thing which put me in a panic, but it is just from the iron stuff they used to seal my wound and stop excess bleeding. Some people lose it in a giant creepy chunk like I did. Then, I got my period. Then, no issues for two days and now, not heavy bleeding as in oh my gosh call the doctor bleeding, but it is fresh blood and at the level of blood a period would be at, so it if lasts more than a few days or pain accompanies it, I will go to the doctor, as my doctor said don't worry unless there are clots and the like. So I am hoping all is well, even if I have a bit of panic!
Then, my broken foot and sprained ankle.....it has been 4 weeks and I thought I could at least bear weight on it since I have a weight bearing/walkable Cam Boot cast thingy. Nope. I tried to bear weight just for a moment so I could step in the shower (I am sick of not begin able to even bathe/shower on my own!) and OUCH. The pain in my ankle, well, there wasn't any but my whole foot, even my heel, had pain. The pain was at the level which mirrors the pain of a I-just-a-second-ago-sprained-my-anke level pain, pain which I know well since I have sprained my ankle four times. Apparently it is a family thing, my cousin sprained her ankle six or eight times! So yeah....
The doctor said oh bear weight on it when you can, walk on it when you can, see you in six weeks. That made it seem like I'd be bearing weight and walking on it, given his advice and the walkable boot I am wearing. And I'm no pain wimp, having given birth without any painkillers, having had my head sewn shut (13 stitches) without anesthesia as a child, having not gone to the doctors until 12 hours after breaking my foot and not taking any prescription pain killers.... I'm not a pain wimp and just bearing weight HURTS.
I am disappointed in my healing time for all my issues and its getting the best of me.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Friday, June 5, 2015
cervical LEEP surgery
I searched in vain for people's experiences with the cervical LEEP procedure, but all were too vague or clinical. So, here is my experience but each woman's experience is her own and can differ from mine.
I was diagnosed with HPV 16 a few months ago per an abnormal pap. Women, PLEASE GO GET YOUR PAPS REGULARLY, I cannot stress that enough. Had I not dragged myself to my Gynecologist, things could have turned much much worse.
My HPV is HPV 16, one of the two kinds most responsible for cancer, and is aggressive. I had a cone biopsy and it came back as CIV3, the worst of the worst of cervical abnormalities one can get without actually having cancer. So I felt relieved yet kinda worried, like, eek I have the worst case! Thank God I did get that pap when I did.
So I got scheduled for a LEEP procedure. I am truly the biggest medical procedure wimp and was honestly very nervous and scared.
I went in and layed on the pap type table with stirrups, undressed from the waist down, with a little courtesy sheet to, for me, shield my view of stuff.
They inserted the speculum or whatever it is, the one for this procedue is larger than the one for a PAP so it is not exactly painful but rather awkward and uncomfortable. Then they did that click click click bumpy thing they do in a pap but it was more clicky and lasted longer and verged on kinda painful. Then I got a shot in the cervix.
...actually 4 shots of anasthesia, and I felt all 4. Its a dental type needle so it feels like a dental anasthesia needle and usually you only feel one, not four, lucky me. The 4th one was the twingy-est and i gritted my teeth.
It anesthisised my cervix but the rest of the vagina was not anesthised. So you feel the speculum and the insertion of tools, none of which hurts but it just reminds you of what' going on inside, so it is hard to ignore. But luckily you dont feel the actual chop chop of your lady bits.
Bring an ipod. Well even then you HEAR everything but it is at least kinda dulled by your ipod music. Oh did I tell you, you get a giant silver bandage to ground you so you don't get electricuted?
The doctor uses a vacuum, I guess because there is smoke or fumes from the procedure. I am not certain, as I didn't ask because fumes and smoke from my vagina was far too freaky for me to think about. The vacuum is as loud as a carpet cleaner, but for me was strangely good. It was white noise I could zone out on.
After the anesthisizing, I was shaking like mad. As said, I am such a wimp. I was pale, my blood pressure skyrocked, my breath got shallow. The doctor suggested I could try full anasthesia, it was an option but meant longer procedure and recovery, but I get panic attacks from it so I declined. My doctor taught me relaxation techniques, rest your hand on your navel and breathe in 4 seconds, so you feel your hand rise. Breathe out 4 seconds to feel your hand fall. Repeat. Vacate your mind.
So back to the procedure, I felt tools and hands and maybe the microscope go in and out and around....some iodine and alcohol and water to cleanse me....and then a high pitched squeeeeeeeee. I did my best to convince myself the squeeeeee was part of the Pink Floyd song on my ipod, because I did not wish to think hey thats some tool chopping off my cervix, squeeeee, just like the band saw I used in metal shop in 7th grade.
Each time the vacuum shut off, my shaking returned cause I was like, omg did they just turn off the vacuum because they just accidentally chopped off my labia? Am I bleeding to death? Did they remove the wrong thing? Am I dead? But no. It was just normal procedure.
The surgery seemed to last forever due to my nervousness, but once it was over I was like, its over? Already?
All the nurses kept asking me, are you ok? I guess my super nervousness made them worry. I must have looked like I saw a ghost. Apparently, I really was a nervous freakazoid.
I have a follow up appointment in 4 weeks, and am told I can have pain, like menstrual cramps, for a few days or so. I can take tylenol or advil and get stronger stuff if I call the doctor.
Afterwards, I had some pain but not cervical pain. The un-numb parts of my lady bits hurt. It feels like, well, like I had a giant, wide, metallic device shoved up me for a half an hour withojt lubrication because that is exactly what happened. To add to things, due to a broken foot, I cannot shower on my own and decided to use a diaper wipe to clean down there for a few days and wowza. I got a mild chemical burn so my exterior lady bits hurt. The doctor said to put coconut oil on a soft towel and dab the affected areas so hey...even if you did not wish to know about my chemical burn, now you know how to treat one if you get one. See? I am all about passing on knowledge, a true teacher at heart.
I can have on and off heavy bleeding for up to four weeks! And strange colored discharge (mostly blood and iodine), and to only freak if I have clots come out. No sex, tampons, or heavy lifting for 4 weeks because, as the nurse said, "basically you have a gaping wound". Gaping wound, doesn't that sound lovely?
I am quite tuckered out today, not need-a-nap tired, but ran-a-marathon tired, where my body and mind just want to slip away into another less sore and tuckered out existance. No one told me I would feel like just laying in bed doing nothing afterwards. Maybe having the broken foot and sprained ankle is just compounding the issue. Maybe it is that I somehow lost 6 lbs since my foot injuries, and so my body needs more calories since calories are energy? Who knows but I am dog tired. I wish I could get myself into my jacuzzi!
I was diagnosed with HPV 16 a few months ago per an abnormal pap. Women, PLEASE GO GET YOUR PAPS REGULARLY, I cannot stress that enough. Had I not dragged myself to my Gynecologist, things could have turned much much worse.My HPV is HPV 16, one of the two kinds most responsible for cancer, and is aggressive. I had a cone biopsy and it came back as CIV3, the worst of the worst of cervical abnormalities one can get without actually having cancer. So I felt relieved yet kinda worried, like, eek I have the worst case! Thank God I did get that pap when I did.
So I got scheduled for a LEEP procedure. I am truly the biggest medical procedure wimp and was honestly very nervous and scared.
I went in and layed on the pap type table with stirrups, undressed from the waist down, with a little courtesy sheet to, for me, shield my view of stuff.
They inserted the speculum or whatever it is, the one for this procedue is larger than the one for a PAP so it is not exactly painful but rather awkward and uncomfortable. Then they did that click click click bumpy thing they do in a pap but it was more clicky and lasted longer and verged on kinda painful. Then I got a shot in the cervix.
...actually 4 shots of anasthesia, and I felt all 4. Its a dental type needle so it feels like a dental anasthesia needle and usually you only feel one, not four, lucky me. The 4th one was the twingy-est and i gritted my teeth.
It anesthisised my cervix but the rest of the vagina was not anesthised. So you feel the speculum and the insertion of tools, none of which hurts but it just reminds you of what' going on inside, so it is hard to ignore. But luckily you dont feel the actual chop chop of your lady bits.
Bring an ipod. Well even then you HEAR everything but it is at least kinda dulled by your ipod music. Oh did I tell you, you get a giant silver bandage to ground you so you don't get electricuted?
The doctor uses a vacuum, I guess because there is smoke or fumes from the procedure. I am not certain, as I didn't ask because fumes and smoke from my vagina was far too freaky for me to think about. The vacuum is as loud as a carpet cleaner, but for me was strangely good. It was white noise I could zone out on.
After the anesthisizing, I was shaking like mad. As said, I am such a wimp. I was pale, my blood pressure skyrocked, my breath got shallow. The doctor suggested I could try full anasthesia, it was an option but meant longer procedure and recovery, but I get panic attacks from it so I declined. My doctor taught me relaxation techniques, rest your hand on your navel and breathe in 4 seconds, so you feel your hand rise. Breathe out 4 seconds to feel your hand fall. Repeat. Vacate your mind.
So back to the procedure, I felt tools and hands and maybe the microscope go in and out and around....some iodine and alcohol and water to cleanse me....and then a high pitched squeeeeeeeee. I did my best to convince myself the squeeeeee was part of the Pink Floyd song on my ipod, because I did not wish to think hey thats some tool chopping off my cervix, squeeeee, just like the band saw I used in metal shop in 7th grade.
Each time the vacuum shut off, my shaking returned cause I was like, omg did they just turn off the vacuum because they just accidentally chopped off my labia? Am I bleeding to death? Did they remove the wrong thing? Am I dead? But no. It was just normal procedure.
The surgery seemed to last forever due to my nervousness, but once it was over I was like, its over? Already?
All the nurses kept asking me, are you ok? I guess my super nervousness made them worry. I must have looked like I saw a ghost. Apparently, I really was a nervous freakazoid.
I have a follow up appointment in 4 weeks, and am told I can have pain, like menstrual cramps, for a few days or so. I can take tylenol or advil and get stronger stuff if I call the doctor.
Afterwards, I had some pain but not cervical pain. The un-numb parts of my lady bits hurt. It feels like, well, like I had a giant, wide, metallic device shoved up me for a half an hour withojt lubrication because that is exactly what happened. To add to things, due to a broken foot, I cannot shower on my own and decided to use a diaper wipe to clean down there for a few days and wowza. I got a mild chemical burn so my exterior lady bits hurt. The doctor said to put coconut oil on a soft towel and dab the affected areas so hey...even if you did not wish to know about my chemical burn, now you know how to treat one if you get one. See? I am all about passing on knowledge, a true teacher at heart.
I can have on and off heavy bleeding for up to four weeks! And strange colored discharge (mostly blood and iodine), and to only freak if I have clots come out. No sex, tampons, or heavy lifting for 4 weeks because, as the nurse said, "basically you have a gaping wound". Gaping wound, doesn't that sound lovely?
I am quite tuckered out today, not need-a-nap tired, but ran-a-marathon tired, where my body and mind just want to slip away into another less sore and tuckered out existance. No one told me I would feel like just laying in bed doing nothing afterwards. Maybe having the broken foot and sprained ankle is just compounding the issue. Maybe it is that I somehow lost 6 lbs since my foot injuries, and so my body needs more calories since calories are energy? Who knows but I am dog tired. I wish I could get myself into my jacuzzi!
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
go ask alice
As her head hit the pillow and her eyes shut, there was a rumble outside but it did not disturb her as she drifted to sleep.
The harleys quieted, and the guests stumbed inside, the meth layed out, divided, snorted, almost to the beat of the Rolling Stones from a tinny single-speakered record player.
Awoken by the commotion of a late night party, the little girl looked over the landing, a birds-eye view of drugs, mirrors, beer bottles, and crowds of bikers cavorting. She liked the music playing; the Doors, and she hummed "when the music's over, turn out the lights". She was awake, bored, and decided to tiptoe down to the busy living room to look for some toys.
At the turn of the stairs, she could see her parents, back turned, and then a sudden rush of the crowd towards the door, screams of "shit!" And "no!" Echoed up the staircase.
Her parents ran out, oblivious of her, and she began to step off the last steps as she saw a woman approach. Red and blue lights reflected off the wall, red, blue, red, blue, mesmorizing her. She felt like she could get lost in the sparkling lights, but the woman smiled, bringing the girl out of her daze. The woman had long brown hair and a 1970s style rusty-yellowy sweater, and she sat down on the step, beckonjng the girl to her lap. The woman felt warm, safe, motherly, and the usually shy girl sought the woman's comfort. The woman grabbed a toy, an Etch-a-sketch, and the two began drawing geometric patterns. The chaos seemed to drown away, the flashing colored lights were no longer of interest, just the sense of love and security, the joy that an adult had taken time to sit down and play, almost child-like, filled the girl with a memorable warmth and peace.
Many years later, the girl asked her parents about that night. They swore she stayed asleep in bed and that unfortunately someone overdosed at the party and an ambulance showed up, but that her memory of the party and the lights must hsve been something she overheard, a manufactured memory. And the woman? Her parents both swore there wasn't even a single brunette woman there, let alone one im a sweater. Another manufactured memory.
That is, until the now-grown girl flipped through a dusty shoebox at her grandma's; photos stashed away of grandma's ex husband, that pig. Mixed into photos of the hated ex was a photo of a woman, it was black and white and dated to 1930. Aside from the curled up-do and tailored dress, and obvious lack of coloring, the now-grown girl gasped and with a shaky hand, flipped over the photo. "Alice" it said.
Alice.
Her great grandmother who passed away decades ago.
Alice.
Alice had comforted her that scary night.
It was definitely Alice, with a different hairstyle and outfit, but the likeliness was unmistakable.
Alice, Alice the angel, sent to comfort and protect her great grand-daughter, a relstive she had never met since she had passed away years before, but a girl she knew she needed to protect.
A girl who, relatives say, reminds them a lot of Alice.
The harleys quieted, and the guests stumbed inside, the meth layed out, divided, snorted, almost to the beat of the Rolling Stones from a tinny single-speakered record player.
Awoken by the commotion of a late night party, the little girl looked over the landing, a birds-eye view of drugs, mirrors, beer bottles, and crowds of bikers cavorting. She liked the music playing; the Doors, and she hummed "when the music's over, turn out the lights". She was awake, bored, and decided to tiptoe down to the busy living room to look for some toys.
At the turn of the stairs, she could see her parents, back turned, and then a sudden rush of the crowd towards the door, screams of "shit!" And "no!" Echoed up the staircase.
Her parents ran out, oblivious of her, and she began to step off the last steps as she saw a woman approach. Red and blue lights reflected off the wall, red, blue, red, blue, mesmorizing her. She felt like she could get lost in the sparkling lights, but the woman smiled, bringing the girl out of her daze. The woman had long brown hair and a 1970s style rusty-yellowy sweater, and she sat down on the step, beckonjng the girl to her lap. The woman felt warm, safe, motherly, and the usually shy girl sought the woman's comfort. The woman grabbed a toy, an Etch-a-sketch, and the two began drawing geometric patterns. The chaos seemed to drown away, the flashing colored lights were no longer of interest, just the sense of love and security, the joy that an adult had taken time to sit down and play, almost child-like, filled the girl with a memorable warmth and peace.
Many years later, the girl asked her parents about that night. They swore she stayed asleep in bed and that unfortunately someone overdosed at the party and an ambulance showed up, but that her memory of the party and the lights must hsve been something she overheard, a manufactured memory. And the woman? Her parents both swore there wasn't even a single brunette woman there, let alone one im a sweater. Another manufactured memory.
That is, until the now-grown girl flipped through a dusty shoebox at her grandma's; photos stashed away of grandma's ex husband, that pig. Mixed into photos of the hated ex was a photo of a woman, it was black and white and dated to 1930. Aside from the curled up-do and tailored dress, and obvious lack of coloring, the now-grown girl gasped and with a shaky hand, flipped over the photo. "Alice" it said.
Alice.
Her great grandmother who passed away decades ago.
Alice.
Alice had comforted her that scary night.
It was definitely Alice, with a different hairstyle and outfit, but the likeliness was unmistakable.
Alice, Alice the angel, sent to comfort and protect her great grand-daughter, a relstive she had never met since she had passed away years before, but a girl she knew she needed to protect.
A girl who, relatives say, reminds them a lot of Alice.
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