Cuts like a knife.

I love that Bryan Adams song.

Also, I'm going under the knife.

This Wednesday, I'm supposed to go to Margate and get a polyp removed from my uterus.  It's a big old polyp. It's making my uterus cranky. A cranky uterus means a cranky Lauren.

I had my pre-op appointment yesterday, and my doc broke some more lovely news for me.  Instead of one 20 minute procedure, he's adding another hour long procedure. A lapropscopic procedure to deal with some adhesions on my uterus that could be causing issues as well. He's gonna cut my belly button, put a camera in me and check everything out.

I was surprised.  I'm scared.

I don't know why I'm scared.  Part of me thinks that I'll find some crazy news out about my lady bits that will make me hate them. Like that I won't be able to have the babies I'm not sure I even want.  I don't know. Going under scares me.

But relief from these stupid symptoms will be great.  No more debilitating cramps.  No more fun mid cycle bleeding.  No more overwhelming PMS.  No more PMS decisions.  No more exhaustion and randomly falling asleep.  No more passing out.

If all that goes away, it will certainly be worth it. BUT I AM FREAKING OUT.

I love oversharing.  My mom got on my case about it the other day, but I feel like the world needs to know that it's ok to be your own advocate. I have felt that something was wrong for the last two years, and it took visiting 4 different doctors, 15 different tests including Xrays, MRI's, Ultrasounds. blood work, poop tests, urine tests, and 2 ER visits to finally get to this place where I will be hopefully solving the issues I've been having. And the only reason I am at this point is because I didn't give up on myself.  And you shouldn't either.

Don't go to the light, Carol Anne!

I kinda died on Saturday. It was nice.

I am an idiot.

I've been battling 2 infections over the last month, and decided that the PERFECT time to donate blood would be whilst fighting these infections and whilst on my lady time.

I walked all morning with Mom and Kevin, and had about an hour to get ready and get to the blood center. I shoved a Belvita biscuit into my piehole, showered and drove to the facility.  My iron level was 13.2. Good enough to donate!  My blood pressure was a little lower than normal...but still ok. 113 over 78.  My temp was 97.8, but over the past few months has been lower than normal.  Still ok.

The lady stabbed me.  It hurt. My arm started tingling halfway through the donation. I didn't say anything, as the phlebotomists were obsessed with Bobbi Christina being found unconscious in a bathtub, The donation was done. She told me to put pressure on my arm and to raise it over my head. I told her I felt wobbly.  She walked away to get me an apple juice from the fridge. Then nothing.

I dreamt that Kevin and I were walking down the trail near my house. The trees arched over the path, with sunlight shining down through the gaps in the leaves. Kevin had lots of energy, and I felt at peace. So cozy.

"Lauren!  Lauren! Wake up, Lauren!"

I opened my eyes to two women standing over me, fluorescent light hurting my eyes.  I wanted to go back to sleep. Why were my shoes gone?  Why was my chest cold? I looked down and saw ice packs on my legs and on my chest.  According to my timeline of events, I was out cold for 20 minutes.

"What did you eat today?"

"I had...I had...one of those...biscuit. Ungh. Belvita things." I slurred.

"Here's some juice."

"I'm going to throw up."

"Here's a bag."

I dry heaved for 20 minutes, until one of the ladies popped me in a wheelchair and let me let lose in the bathroom.

One of the ladies was on the phone. She was canceling the paramedics. DAMN. No hot paramedics. BOO.

They rolled me back to the bed. The lady had to fill out a report and took my blood pressure. 104/38. I was concerned about that, but she didn't acknowledge it or comment. I started feeling slightly better. They rushed me out the door.  I called Mom to let her know I might die again at some point.  She said she'd call and check on me.  I should not have been driving.

I got to Jog Rd. and had to pull over. I had to throw up but couldn't.

I got home and threw up all over myself.

I napped.

Got up and threw up again. There was nothing left.

Napped.

Ate a turkey sandwich. Felt better.

Drove to Walgreens.  Bought apple juice, soda and iced tea. Drove through Burger King.

Napped.

I was scared to really sleep, so stayed up til 1am watching TV before I decided to go to bed.  I only locked one of the deadbolts in case someone had to get in to save me.

I called my boss on Sunday and asked if I had to work the Super Bowl party since I died.  He said I had to.

I am wiped today. I started a 7 day round of pills for the latest fun time infection. They make me wonky.  I have a procedure next week that is supposed to clarify all this garbage, but I may have to reschedule as they want me to take 3 days of antibiotics before the procedure, and that will conflict with the other treatment.

Decisions are stupid.  Can I go back to walking that path with Kevin?  It was soooo nice.