Someday, I'll understand (3)

mid-late August 2015, published 12/14/15. I finally had the strength to do this. 
9:30a


Once everything died down with the procedure, and I'd gone back to work, I had no idea what to expect now. Things were slowly going back to normal, but I still had to find out what this new doctor would say and do about the other situation. I was so happy to have made it through that first weekend back to work. I know John wanted to be there badly, but I had to keep going. I was still planning on driving to Alabama in a few weeks. 

Turns out, the original GI doctor I was supposed to see, had unexpectedly left, and no one knew for how long. I went and saw Pat with the OB/GYN, and she gave me a number for Dr. Tompson. She said he's one of the best, and that my OB/GYN had practiced with him for a long time. I met with him and told him everything, and he gave me list on some things to do for the time being, to see how my body handled it. He then suggested a colonoscopy. Ugh, I flat out avoided this about 7 years ago, but knew I had to do this, I wanted answers. I lucked out and was on vacation that weekend, anyway, and Sunday I was back to the liquids diet once again. This time, I actually tried to eat and keep my strength up. That night, I was to start prepping, and stop the liquid diet. Not even water with this medicine I had to take, and that stuff was nasty. I had to do two doses, spread apart, and each dose had to be drunk within an hour. This stuff just makes you miserable, and I just wanted to sleep. I had to be in Houston at 5 the next morning, and start getting prepped.  Thank God they knock you out for this. The nurses were very nice and helped ease my nerves. I had my good luck charm with me, and when I was wheeled into the room, they were hooking me up to all the machines and positioning me for the operation, so I couldn't move. One of the doctors tucked the charm under my arm for me, a pink Yoshi that I got for my birthday last year. He recognized the character and asked about it. Lying there listening to the buzzing and beeping, I kept thinking how this is taking place almost two weeks since the other operation, and how I'll be glad if I don't see another hospital for a while after this one...

I was on bed rest for about two days, and back to a normal diet. I wanted to eat everything in sight. This hospital stuff takes its toll. And we were given some great news; the results came back normal. They had also sent me home with, ugh, pictures (it really is kind of cool, in a gross way). I even got a signed card from all the nurses. I was now given a list of foods to eat that are high in fiber, to increase my water intake (it's all I drink, anyway), and start taking medicine to maintain and stay on a regular schedule. I can't tell you how much things improved; I had so much energy, was never tired, and I felt great. Even gained a few pounds. This is what I needed for so long! 

Physically, things were improving. Emotionally, that was a different story. In the weeks after the first procedure, my emotions were taking their toll. I'd go to work, and one little thing could set me off faster than a bullet being shot out of a gun. I was always so angry, even though I had no reason to be. If my scanner messed up on me, I'd get angry, and I almost liked to destroyed one one day. I knew it wasn't healthy, but also had the good sense to admit to myself that this could be a huge problem if not dealt with. John even suggested I talk to someone, fearing what I already knew. At home, it wasn't as bad, but I still would lash out if something messed up or didn't go as planned. On the reverse side, I could be having a semi-good day, verifying pallets, and all of a sudden break into tears, out of nowhere. I would duck between taller pallets to wait for the clouds to clear. I wondered when the roller coaster would stop.

I had some comfort come one weekend in the form of my extended family. My friend April messaged me and told me of her own heartbreaking story, between her three children, she'd suffered a miscarriage, at 8 weeks, just like me. We talked most all of Friday night, before I had to call it a night to get up for work. The next weekend, Saturday night I was driving home after a long day, when my mom called and said did I mind a visitor. I said no, as I was already prepped for the next day but just had to fix my lunch. I got home, and April, her mom Mitze, and April's kids were all there. I got hugs from everyone, and we all caught up on everything and everyone. April and Mitze made me a gift. It was a beautiful wire basket with all kinds of goodies; a journal (purple, of course) with Bible scriptures on each page and for me to write down my experiences and feelings, bath salt and sugar scrub that April made herself, some 'Joy' essential oil, a scented clothespin for my car, and big box of homemade cookies. It was all put together with love and care. The card they gave me was beautiful, they wrote their own messages and scriptures, and I couldn't read it all the way through before I broke down in tears. Took me a week before I could read the card the whole way through. I felt so loved and blessed to have these people in my life. These are the same people that helped me and my family during the tornado. They gave us a place to stay without thinking twice. The Mitchells are awesome people, and I don't know what we did to deserve them. What I did to deserve their compassion and love. I needed that after what I'd been through, and things looked up from there. I really need to get together with April one day, very soon. I did promise, after all.

After that weekend, things looked up. I wasn't so emotional anymore, but the issue was still there. I knew I needed a way to curb the anger. John and I weren't on good terms because of the distance and the events that had occurred. I was still pulling everyone close to me and telling them what happened, knocking them off the list one by one. I hated it; each time I told someone, after being met with the surprised and happy reactions, I'd try not to break down after delivering the blow again and again, not just to them, but to me as well. Another stab to my heart. The last of my friends that I told, I did finally break down, let everything go. I was mad at myself at first for being weak, but I needed it, I needed it so bad that it didn't matter that I couldn't hold myself together anymore. When all you want to do is punch something and scream at the unfairness of it all, but I honestly had no energy left. Just to lay there and cry, and be comforted by someone who didn't need to say anything at all, and that's exactly what I needed. A small piece of me healed that day. Countless times I'd sit and count my blessings, and never was I angry at God. That day I knew everything would be okay. I knew that after everything I'd endured, I could do anything. This meant making the biggest decision I'd made in a very long time:

Making the trip to Alabama..and doing it alone.