#soonest appointment available in three months

[bloodlessdiamond]

People don't actually care about you when you're suicidal. They just say they do or pretend because they are supposed to. No one really helps or tries to be there for you, or wants to change the things that are making you feel that way.

[justlightlysedated]

It's been over a month since my last update on the secretly married malex fic i've been writing! so, out of the ten new scenes i added, i've only fully written two lol, so eight more to go! The goal is to be done before the new year, so wish me luck!

But here y'all go, a deleted scene:

Alex shouldn't be doing this. He has a flight in less than ten hours, and it's going to take at least three of those for him to make it to his flight on time, but he doesn't really care.

There is something he has to do right now, before he can't do anything about it.

He'd spent the last week since he left Roswell thinking about this, and he'd gone online last night and set an appointment just to see when the soonest available one would be, just to convince himself that it was a bad idea to do this. Only for the closest available appointment to be the next day, in the morning. 

Alex automatically calculated the amount of time it would take for him to pack his things, drive to Roswell, make this appointment and then get back to base to make his flight. He would have at least an hour of time to celebrate afterwards.

The only thing he's unsure of in all of this is what Michael would do.

Alex isn't dumb enough to think that it doesn't hurt to be the one left behind. It hurts him and he's the one doing the leaving. But he's hopeful enough that Michael wouldn't say no. He looks at the time and sees that it's a little after three in the morning.

He messages Michael on AIM an innocuous, i miss you.

Michael's phone barely gets any service in the junkyard and is a hassle to text with, so Michael probably won't ans-

The computer dings before Alex can finish the thought.

Miss you more

Alex packs his bags and is out on the road before the hour is up.

He drives and makes it to Sanders Lot before the sun has even risen, just before seven in the morning. The appointment is in two hours. Alex thinks he made excellent time.

Michael's truck is parked next to the airstream, so Alex knows he's there. Or at least he should be. Alex hopes that he's there.

Still he hesitates for a bit too long, fifteen minutes to be exact, before he can convince himself to get out of the car.

It's just Michael. Even if he does say no to this, it's not like it'll stop him from being the most important person in Alex's life.

Alex stares at the airstream for a second longer, before the lights flicker on, announcing that the occupant was awake.

Alex gets out of the car then, and he barely makes it halfway to the door, before its opening, and Michael is standing at the entrance.

Alex stops in his tracks, feeling his heart leap up into his throat.

Michael looks visibly startled to see him.

Alex gives him a second, eyes darting all over him, drinking him in like he hasn't seen him in months and not just a week.

He's standing there shirtless, jeans hanging open, hair a frizzy mess, eyes too bright, unshaven with blood staining the corner of his mouth and smeared across his split knuckles.

It's an image that makes his heart ache. And he hates, hates, hates that he's the one responsible for this.

Alex is boarding a plane in a couple of hours, and he really has no idea if he'll ever come back home. 

It's that thought more than anything that propels him forward.

Michael drops down from the entrance, taking a couple of steps forward.

"What are you doing here, Alex?" He asks, voice hoarse. "Don't you have a flight in a couple of hours?"

Alex opens his mouth to answer the question.

"Marry me," falls out of his mouth instead.

Michael gapes at him momentarily, while Alex feels his face flush a little with embarrassment. He'd meant to ease into the subject, not blurt it out first thing.

"Unless I'm mistaken," Michael says slowly, eyes darting all over Alex's face. "We're already married."

"That's a domestic partnership," Alex says, a little impatiently, and pushes forward despite the hurt look Michael throws at him. 

"Which becomes void in the event of my death," Alex continues. Michael makes a sound, taking a step forward, hand lifting slightly only to drop again.

Alex keeps speaking, "And if anything happens, the last person I want making decisions for me is my father."

Michael stares at him for a long moment. The silence between them feels heavy with tension.

Alex clears his throat and waves a hand around in the air, "And we can get married now."

Michael continues to look at him without speaking.

"So, what do you say?" Alex says, a little desperately taking a step closer to Michael.

Michael takes a startled step back before he turns around and heads back inside the airstream. 

For about five seconds Alex feels the absolute heartbreak, before Michael stumbles back out of the airstream, holding his shirt in one hand.

He holds out a clenched fist towards Alex, giving him an encouraging smile.

Alex starts to feel the embers of hope flickering in his chest.

He opens his hand, holding it towards Michael.

Michael drops two rings into Alex's palm, and he feels as though the entire world stops for a crystal clear second.

Michael pulls his shirt over his head while Alex tries to process what's happening.

Michael clears his throat, and Alex's gaze snaps back to him, as he stuffs his hand in his pocket, putting the rings safely away.

"I got them right after I heard that they passed-mmhp."

Alex stumbles forward and kisses Michael, one hand to the side of his head, fingers curled around his ears as he pulls him in, falling into the kiss at the same time, trusting that Michael would keep them on their feet.

Michael just barely manages that, wrapping his arms around Alex's waist as he stumbles to catch his balance. Alex's skin feels like it's buzzing as his entire focus narrows to Michael's mouth. He doesn't care if they end up falling to the ground.

He barely notices that they're moving until he's being tumbled back onto the still warm hood of his car. Alex protests digging his fingers into the back of Michael's neck to pull him in. Michael laughs a little, almost deliriously, wrapping his hands around the backs of Alex's knees and pulling him closer.

Alex lets Michael tug him wherever he wants him, hooking his knees around Michael's hips.

Michael presses his hands to Alex's face, fingers around his jaw, tilting his face up as Michael leans down, stopping close enough to rub their noses together.

"Marry me?" he breathes into the space between their mouths.

Alex hums low in his throat as he wraps his arms around Michael's waist, "I asked you fir-"

The rest of the words are caught by Michael's lips as he kisses Alex again, pressing their mouths together softly once, before tilting his head to change the angle, and kissing him again.

Alex tightens his hold on Michael, pulling him in even closer, and they lose several more minutes just kissing languidly, pressed close together.

Michael parts their mouths with a gasp, pressing his forehead to Alex's.

"Yes," Michael breathes.

"Yeah?" Alex questions, not thinking about anything but kissing Michael again.

Michael laughs a little, "Yes, I'll marry you."

Alex smiles, feeling so happy and light, "Yeah?"

"Yes," Michael repeats, kissing Alex once quickly. "You?"

"Of course, I will," Alex says, bumping their noses together. "I'll marry you as many times as you want me to."

Michael kisses him again, hard and biting. Alex holds him close for a long moment, before he pushes him back, parting their mouths with a slick sound. 

"Let's go get married," Alex says, grinning stupidly.

Michael smiles back at him, and just tugs him in for another kiss. Alex kisses him back, they still have time before their appointment.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Stupid Doctors. Stupid Eyes.

So, did two doctors in one day. Two separate issues, remarkably similar difficulty in communicating and getting healthcare. Part of it MUST be the autism, but that CAN'T be all.

Doctor #1 was following up on a previous phone appointment. I had asked for an in-person appointment to lay out my case, told him I had almost a clean sweep of hypothyroid symptoms, told him I need a doctor who can handle my thyroid and "female hormones" (no other polite way to say, Can you handle all my hormones or not, you are a hormone doctor) because they interact with each other and if I have to keep ping-ponging back and forth between two doctors to work on this, I will not get adequate care. He started to ask about what estrogen I'd been on before during that appointment, but he backed off and tried to get me to see another gynecologist when I mentioned Canada kept running out of the patches I'd been prescribed. I tried to reiterate that if I have to square my treatment up between two doctors, I may die, but he said I might prefer an "expert."

I heard "you can use this other doctor if you're more comfortable with them," which I wouldn't have been, so I ran off and got a referral that would OK him to handle the estrogen and progesterone. He meant, "Under no circumstances will I handle that for you, even though I could. It's too complicated for me."

This became clear over the course of a five minute phone appointment, which I only accepted because it was the soonest one available. I thought he'd follow up in the office. And, although he wanted more blood work, I reminded him he told me the numbers were unreliable and he would need to address the symptoms, and he agreed with me, he just wanted the numbers too. Yesterday, numbers in hand, he told me my thyroid levels looked too high, so he was decreasing my dose, and I could have another blood test in three months. Bye. No discussion of unaddressed symptoms that don't look ANYTHING like hyperthyroid.

Did he get the referral? Could he address my "female" hormones? Well, he'd told my family doctor to refer me to that gynecologist! WHAT family doctor? That's not my family doctor anymore, he was fucking with my thyroid treatment that YOU prescribed me, among other very bad things, AND I LEFT HIM. I swear, I told the guy that LAST TIME.

OK. So I need a new endocrinologist who will actually handle all of my hormones, and I need to do all the research and find this person for myself, then ask the clinic to refer me to them. I could've started on this weeks ago if the fucker had just expressed himself in clear language. I TRIED to tell him as many ways that I could, "If you can't do that for me, I NEED ANOTHER DOCTOR," but he didn't hear that.

Doctor #2 was the surgeon who "fixed" my eyes so I can't maintain focus or acuity. I had a fight with the tech, and then with him, trying to explain the difference between, "I can read this, even though it's blurry, because I can guess what the letters are based on their basic shapes and the other letters in the line," and "You can read that just fine!" I tried to verbalize my struggles and this confused them. "Stop trying to focus on the letters, just read them." DON'T FOCUS ON THE LETTERS, JUST READ THEM???

They also had difficulty understanding the nature of the visual distortions. "Is this better or worse?" "My eyes get tired and stop focusing. It's not consistent." "But is it better or worse?" "I've been focusing on details for multiple letters now, and my eyes are refusing to stay in focus. I don't know." "Your prescription isn't consistent." *a pause, while my verbal ability crashes and I try to reset* "Wh-Why would it be?"

The doctor didn't know what binocular vision dysfunction was. Last time I saw him, I swear, the nurse asked what it was, and he explained it to her. It was brief and light on the details, but he did. Now he doesn't know what it is. He forgot since last year?

Also, I should not call the thing where a faint double of the image or text appears above or below it "double vision." "Double vision" is some other specific thing, not seeing two things, one of which is fainter. It's confusing for them when I call that "double vision." Cool. That makes very little sense to me and makes it even harder for me to keep talking. Thanks.

Anyway, they put me in front of a couple machines to take images and this time, FINALLY, I coughed up numbers that say something is wrong. My lenses are supposed to let light through at a "10." The left one is at a "9," which the doctor thinks is "not bad" and then he never addresses the blurriness in that eye again. Because the right one is at ".89". There's a decimal in there. It's less than one. This is severe. I must have a cataract.

But I only had the surgery because they thought my lenses looked fine and I wouldn't have cataracts for a decade or more! All of a sudden I have a cataract? "Well, let's dilate your eye and have a look!"

No cataract. He can't see anything. Yet he is holding an image with a number that says YES cataract.

Well, okay, I can read, so my vision isn't that bad (Oh, dear god) but let's give it a month, come back and see if the machine says the invisible cataract has progressed any. If it's still there and still invisible, you can have a referral to a cataract specialist. Oh, this has gone on so long, all the techs are at lunch. Well, they'll call you to make an appointment when they get back.

They still haven't called me, I guess they've been at lunch since yesterday.

I want my money back. I really, really do. If I have early-onset cataracts they missed, I did not have the information I needed to consent to that surgery. I don't think it's going to happen, though. Cataract surgery would be covered, if I just got a regular lens. But if I'm letting them cut into my eyeball and risk more pain and severe dry eye after all I've been through, I want a better lens - if that would work for me. God alone knows how I'll find a doctor whose opinion I trust to ask about that.

I still have no idea why the left eye is blurry and THEY CAN'T SEE ANY CATARACTS. This doctor is painfully nonchalant about having no idea WTF is going on. Hey, the surgery was a success! I can read! According to him! I don't have the endurance to draw or the speed to drive, but that's cool. No big deal.

Bleh. This is probably poorly-worded, with typos, but this is what's going on with me. This is what I'm trying to accomplish while still telling stories and enjoying life as the world falls apart. I'm a little tired and distracted, that's all.

[mentalhealthinpdx]

#6 Academic Perspectives

When it comes to closing the gap in youth mental health care there are many different opinions on how to do that, but everyone acknowledges that there is a significant gap in care. Solutions have come in many forms but which has been the most effective? Measurable change started with Oregon lawmakers and changes to how mental health is addressed in schools. In 2019 several laws were passed to address the availability of mental health services to teens. “Adi's Act requires all Oregon school districts to develop comprehensive suicide prevention policies,” (Zimlich 2019). Another law was passed that changed the definition of excused absences in schools and granted students five excused mental health days in a three month period. This law follows the lead of Utah and Minnesota who have enacted similar laws in the past few years. Utah and Minnesota both have lower instances of teen suicide than Oregon, but there isn’t a concrete link between the excused absenses and lower suicide rates. Unfortunately many changes are still fairly new, within the last 5 years, so any change that has occurred has not been immediately noticeable or measurable. 

Making changes to long standing institutions such as mental health care is a long and tedious process that has to be fought from many fronts. Another front is insurance and finding in-network providers and treatment. Mental health services are covered under the Oregon Health Plan, OHP, which covers many Oregonians and covers gaps left by private insurance.  Researchers have looked at the number of providers listed on OHP and the number of individuals needing care and while there is always a need for more providers the strain shouldn’t be felt as strongly as it is. These discrepancies have a name ‘phantom networks’ and might be the biggest cause of lack of care in Oregon.

A phantom network is “ networks in which some listed providers do not see patients for various reasons.” (Zhu, Charlesworth, Polsky, McConnell 2022) This is a struggle felt by many in Oregon who are going through a crisis, you call and call trying to make an appointment only to find out that the soonest appointment is months away. Or maybe you find that the Dr. doesn’t accept your insurance even though they are listed online as an in-network provider. One statistic they presented was shocking and a sign that big changes need to happen “Some 51.8 percent appeared in a directory but did not see patients in the claims data… including 67.4 percent of mental health prescribers,” (Zhu, Charlesworth, Polsky, McConnell 2022). This article did not offer any solutions mainly focussing on the lack of transparency and possible causes for phantom networks. Oregon lawmakers have acknowledged this gap and are actively working on fixing it with increased funding both towards existing providers and towards training more health care providers. There are no plans in place as of yet to address the discrepancies in reporting of available providers and what is available to patients.

Sources: 

Zhu, J. M., Charlesworth, C. J., Polsky, D., & McConnell, K. J. (2022). Phantom Networks: Discrepancies Between Reported And Realized Mental Health Care Access In Oregon Medicaid. Health Affairs, 41(7), 1013-2. https://doi.org/10.1377/hlthaff.2022.00052

Zimlich, R. (2019). New Oregon laws address mental health and suicide prevention: Oregon has passed several new laws aimed at suicide prevention, including one offering students excused mental health days. Contemporary Pediatrics, 36(10), 32+. https://link-gale-com.proxy.lib.pdx.edu/apps/doc/A617763814/HRCA?u=s1185784&sid=bookmark-HRCA&xid=af2baec1

[xellandria]

Some time toward the end of March, I broke a tooth. I don't remember the specific day but I can tell you it was a Thursday night cos it was during raid time, so I called my insurance-mandated dentist the next day aaaand... they're a Monday-Thursday joint. Suffered all weekend, called them on Monday and the earliest they could get me in for an emergency appointment was two weeks later. Which, you know, I took because what else was I going to do?

If you know me at all you know that this is one of my personal nightmares. I don't know why dentistry in general makes me as anxious as it does because it's not like I had bad teeth growing up or any specific bad dentist memories or anything (though I did randomly mentally scar myself by watching Ren & Stimpy once when I was too young for it, that's a vivid enough memory) but here we are.

Anyway two weeks later it turns out that it was my bottom right wisdom tooth, which somehow makes it at least a little better because the wisdom teeth are "optional" and you're not really expected to get through life with them, they're just kind of bonus teeth, right? At some point during the pandemic I'd broken both wisdom teeth on the left side of my mouth and when I'd tried getting dental attention for that everybody was closed because peak pandemic hours, so I've just been living with random spurts of tooth pain for years at this point. But anyway the dentist was going to put in a referral to an oral surgeon and I'd just get all four (three broken, one not broken yet) out. Sucks, but a routine enough thing. Also found out at that time that I had some cavities and the soonest they could get me in to deal with those was August.

Two or three weeks later I'd gotten the letter from my insurance saying that the preauth had gone through but the oral surgeon hadn't called me yet. I was in varying amounts of pain so I called the dentist asking both for the status of that referral ("oh we sent it over but here's their number you can call them") and for advice on what to do about the pain in the interim (where I had to go through a song and dance to prove I wasn't an addict but eventually got a low grade one-time prescription; I'm down to my last of those pills now). That was mid-May, two months after my initial dental emergency.

Called the oral surgeon, set up a consult appointment for that which was only available at a time when I had a different doctor's appointment already scheduled, which I then had to reschedule. Eventually got in to see the oral surgeon in the middle of June and asked him too many questions and it turns out that as the result of my questions and answers to the questions I asked, he couldn't do the surgery because he felt I was too anxious to be able to handle it without being fully sedated, which he was unable to do outside of a hospital setting due to legal... something... so he was going to notify my dentist and they would get me a referral to a different oral surgeon who works within a hospital setting so they could actually do the damn surgery.

Two weeks later I called my dentist again to find out what the status of that referral is, only to find out that no, my oral surgeon hadn't actually told my dentist about that so they were under the impression that things were working smoothly on my end. They started the referral process then but of course we're now in the start of July and I've been dealing with this since the end of March and... you know.

Middle of July comes around and I get a text right at the end of one of my spravato sessions from a maxillofacial and oral surgery center to call them at whatever number to set up an appointment. Except they don't say where they are.

They're in Portland. That's a three and a half hour drive away. But they are, apparently, the closest available full sedation oral surgeon covered by my insurance so I GUESS THAT'S WHAT WE'RE DOING NOW.

My consultation appointment with them is next Thursday--which yes, I have to do in person, which means an eight hour round trip just to have them look into my mouth in person and be like "yeah you need surgery" and then set up the actual surgery, which will probably be a multi-day thing because it's full sedation so they'll need to keep an eye on me afterwards. My mom and I have no idea what we're going to do about the cats; depending on what time of day the surgery ends up being scheduled for it's possible she'll drive me up the day before and I'll stay in a hotel then take a taxi to the hotel at like 6am or whatever the day of, then she'll drive back up to pick me up the day after. I have no idea. The other option is dragging both cats three and a half hours up to a cat-friendly hotel in Portland and hanging out there for two days. We'll see.

Circling back around to the actual dentist, yesterday was the appointment for some of the fillings in those cavities they discovered while I was there. It was supposed to be an hour long but I was sitting in the chair unsupervised for ten minutes before the dentist came in and said that the nurse+he had talked and decided I was too anxious to get my fillings done outside of full sedation too and he was going to put in a referral to a guy in Redmond to do that under IV sedation as well. I was just fucking sitting there! I wasn't hyperventilating or anything! My blood pressure was fine! WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE, I WAS DOING PRETTY WELL I THOUGHT?

Anyway so now that's up in the air too. At least while I was there I got a prescription for another ~15 pills to hopefully keep me alive until the actual surgery. Unfortunately I'm writing all this at four, five in the morning because it's a bad pain day and I keep getting woken up by the pain in my mouth and throughout the writing of all this the tramadol should have kicked in and hasn't done shit so I don't really know what I'm going to do at this point. I'm so tired of all this. It's been five months and nothing has actually been done.

[losingitinjersey]

Remember how I made yet another decision about which stroller to get and decided to get two, a double-wide BOB for now and an in-line once we’re in Philadelphia next year?  Just kidding AGAIN!  Thanks to @runningfromthecuccos I was reminded that Phil & Ted’s makes an in-line jogging stroller - basically exactly what I’ve been looking for!  A double stroller with three wheels but with the footprint of a single stroller.  I spent about three hours online this weekend looking up every review and details about it and finally clicked purchase on their Sport double version (so please don’t tell me it sucks now).  Excited to have this decision finally over with and move forward with it! 

This morning, erp and I went to a 9 a.m. speech therapy appointment for her!  At her 18 month check-up the pediatrician recommended she get evaluated and so we did!  She’ll be 19 months tomorrow and has yet to definitively say anything other than “yeah!” :) While adorable, I’d love to hear “mama” or literally anything!

After being super shy at first, which seems to be erp’s go-to mode, she opened up and seemed to warm up really well to the evaluator.  She was babbling right along and playing with the toys and made a great impression!  All was hunky dory (other than my being super hot and sweating while in the room - thanks pregnancy) until erp pulled the bubbles out of her diaper bag and handed them to the evaluator.  She asked if she could lower her mask to blow on the wand, to which I said yeah sure no problem!  But then she informed me that she’s unvaccinated so I asked that she not.  Awkwardddddd.  She then, unprompted, told me three times during the appointment how grateful she was to my understanding of her personal decision.  Which, I get.  But also. YOU WORK WITH KIDS.  WHO CAN’T GET VACCINATED. WTF IS YOUR PROBLEM.  

They want us to start going weekly, which sounds annoying and expensive but gotta suck it up.  Erp’s worth it and we don’t want her falling too far behind.  While I liked the evaluator and how she interacted with erp, I am glad to hear that the therapist who will be working with her moving forward is someone else.  Hopefully a vaccinated someone else.  Kevin said that if it turns out she’s unvaccinated as well, we can ask to see if we can be paired with someone who is.  So weird that these are things to worry about.  

In other news, my 15 year old cat Saki has been spraying randomly throughout the house for the last two months.  We thought it was just in one spot upstairs but now it turns out it’s at least in two places.  He’s NEVER done this before.  Other than the spraying, he’s acting totally normal so I don’t think he’s sick, just acting out? His litterbox is always clean and he has access to food and water constantly.  I got that Feliway diffuser to try and help calm him down but it hasn’t seemed to make a difference.  The next step is to take him to the vet to see if anything else is going on, but when looking up appointments online the soonest availability is in two weeks.  Since I’m sure I’ll have a baby by then it doesn’t make sense to book it right now unless I do so for the end of next month.  Since he doesn’t seem to act like he’s feeling poorly I don’t feel the urgency around it other than mourning the destruction of these previously perfectly white carpets. 

[drunk-on-writing]

"wishbone"

i have two weeks of pills and three weeks until my refill appointment twice a day at 11:11 i wish that i make it but this isn’t a time for wishing i have to be strategic, calculating what days can i afford not to take my medication? mom helps me figure out which days are good days to skip; she tells me saturdays, “you can just stay in bed” i pick wednesdays because i need to feel in control because losing control is a trigger and i can’t rely on my medicine to save me i can’t afford wishbones and 11:11 to save me i have to save myself

but it’s hard and it’s scary and i had a panic attack at work after playing phone tag with the doctor’s office for almost two hours with every ring it felt as though my supply was running out faster “he doesn’t have anything available this month” “what’s the soonest he can see me?”

this is the way the world ends - not with a bang but with a seventeen day supply of one hundred milligrams and twenty-one days until a refill

(cc, 2021)

[compo67]

A spectacular bonsai tree from the lightscape I went to last week.

I'm so tired. Why am I still awake. I just finished Patreon rewards and have a stack of things to send out. But like. So tired. I drove 100 miles today. Somehow. My sister drove the last 70.

My EDS doctor is 4 hours away, but so worth seeing. He's filling out all my insurance accommodation paperwork and he signed off on the petition to get me a power chair through insurance. I'm wondering if I should call off tomorrow. For at least a half day. I could use the rest, but idk if it'll be covered under FMLA. But I haven't missed a day in a while so...

I got an informal POTS diagnosis, so there's that. I need to add more salt to my diet and be mindful of how I move. We're gonna try a new medication to see if we can help my sleep without ambien. Just another diagnosis to add to the layers.

At least for now there's nothing wrong with my heart. He did say the tilt table test results were poorly written and basically garbage. I'm just gonna avoid that hospital from now on, except my transplant stuff. 🙄

I hate it when doctors say they're experienced in rare conditions and they're not or they do sloppy work.

I think... I'm trying to do too much and it's causing me to feel super burned out. Sigh.

My sister pointed out that I've been snoring really loud lately. The soonest sleep doctor appointment I got was end of January. 🤷🏽‍♀️ My EDS doc said to not let the sleep doctors brush everything off as "you're fat" and to be sure they understand dysautonomia.

I also got a bill for $1700 for the MRI I had on my elbow in august because my insurance company claims the place is out of network. Idk about yall, but I don't have that kind of money lying around. Or available in two or three months of working part time while also trying to just live. So. Idk what I'm gonna do. I need to call on Wednesday and ask if they have a financial assistance program. They probably don't because it's not a hospital. It's too overwhelming to think about. And you know what the kicker is? The MRI showed nothing. It has been an expensive, physically and emotionally grueling experience. I've learned not to go to urgent care, xrays and imaging won't show anything, and ffs find a good ortho.

Let's pray I don't have another full dislocation anytime soon.

My crutches arrived today, so that was a highlight. I fell at the lightscape and bruised myself up pretty bad, plus my knee has been grumpy all week from it. So I decided one cane isn't enough for outings like that. Crutches it is.

I need to learn how to walk with them. That'll take some time. But I'm excited.

I might try and crowdfund that MRI bill. 😓

I just need to go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning. Or you know. In a few hours.

❤

[reflections-in-tea-cups]

Shadow

tw: pet death

We lost our beautiful, lively, shy, affectionate, panther of a house cat on Monday, March 25, 2019. While I hope the details of the past month fade from my memory, I know some of you are shocked at the news and want to know what happened. This story is still too painful to retell, so I’m putting it here.

It’s a long story with a tragic end. It’s not my best writing, but editing it further is beyond me right now. 

Shadow came into our lives on Feb. 13th, 2015. We went to the animal shelter to look at a dog – instead, we came home with an eight-year-old black cat. We thought he was a gentle old man, but as soon as he stepped out of the crate we realized they had sent us home with a panther. He was thirteen pounds of pure muscle, and the first thing he did was jump up six feet to hide on the top shelf of my closet.

Despite his size and athleticism, he was incredibly gentle and shy. He hid under the bed the first two weeks that he spent with us, only coming out after lots of cajoling. Even then, he’d often stop just at the edge of the bed so we could reach in and pet him. Once he was comfortable with us, he’d throw himself at our feet for pets and scritches, rolling around so we could get at his belly. He was always deferential to our resident female cat, despite having at least three pounds on her. He was playful and sweet, jumping up walls to catch at laser lights and crawling under the covers for morning snuggles. You always knew what his favorite toy was, as he’d leave it next to (or, more commonly, in) his food dish.

I’m not sure when he stopped eating. He still cried for food every morning and night, and he still went to the bowl and began lapping it up. We noticed that there was more wet food being left over, but that happens sometimes and it usually isn’t a problem – maybe one or both cats don’t care for that flavor of wet food, or maybe they got tired of it, or maybe they’re eating less because everyone is less active in winter. They always had access to dry food, so I didn’t worry.

I was shocked when I picked him up in late February and realized I could feel his bones. He was always a healthy, muscular cat – but suddenly he felt frail and old. Concerned, I made an vet appointment; the soonest available was two weeks away. Luck was on our side, and I got a call a few days later saying they could see us March 8th.

At the vet, we found our healthy-at-thirteen-pounds boy was now under ten. Blood work showed signs of pancreatitis, dehydration, and anemia. X-rays didn’t find anything surprising, just an empty stomach. He got anti-nausea meds, pain meds, and fluids. They sent us back home with some prescription food, instructions to monitor his food and water intake, and a blood recheck appointment set up for a week later.

His appetite increased for a few days. He still wasn’t eating enough to gain any weight, but any progress was hopeful. But by Wednesday (the 13th) he was back to barely eating anything and I called and got him an appointment for the next day. The 14th was terrifying – his weight had continued to drop, and as had his red blood cell count. They recommended hospitalization for IV fluids and medication, and to monitor his eating. I cried signing the papers to leave him there for the day.

When I went to pick him up that night, they said he hadn’t really improved and they recommended overnight hospitalization. Our vet isn’t a 24 hour clinic, so that involved transferring him to a local emergency vet. The ER vet reassured us that pancreatitis is often treated by a few days of pushing fluids, so we should remain hopeful. She also offered to do an ultrasound on his abdomen, to further look for anything else that could be causing his symptoms. No one really knew why he was so anemic, but maybe the ultra sound would see if/where he was bleeding internally.

After a sleepless night, the ER vet called to tell us Shadow had done well – they’d gotten him to eat a little, and the ultra sound hadn’t found anything too alarming or conclusive. The only thing they noted was an enlarged lymph node. We were told another day of hospitalization would be ideal, but we might be able to take him home that night. It was with a much lighter heart that we brought him back to our regular vet, giving them the overnight report and excited to get our healthy boy back soon.

However, our rollercoaster took a sudden dive. The vet reported that he hadn’t eaten and had only gotten more lethargic as the day progressed. The next diagnostic step they recommended was exploratory surgery, during which they would also insert a feeding tube so we could ensure he was getting the calories he needed. At this point, they were very worried he was about to enter liver failure from starvation.

We decided to go ahead with the surgery, which was scheduled for the next morning. We took him home that night for lots of cuddles – lapped up our affection all night. He was so happy to be back in his familiar environment, and our other cat also made it clear she was thrilled he was home.

Taking him to the vet the next morning was a tense affair. After finally being home, he wanted nothing to do with his cat carrier and let us know it. Three hours later I got a call from the vet – he’d done very well in surgery and was waking up comfortably! They had a new diagnosis based on the state of his liver and gall-bladder: feline triaditis. While they did take a couple biopsies, they were pretty confident we were on the right track. They said the prognosis was good but the at-home care would be intensive; not only were we responsible for his calorie intake through the feeding tube until he began to eat again, but there were also five medications that needed to be given once or twice a day. They still hadn’t found a source for the anemia, but hoped it would recoup with everything else.

We were thrilled to bring him home and dedicated to getting him back up to health. His food was specially prepared each day and given to him 4-5 times daily. He had to be quarantined from our other cat and dog for a while, so he was confined to the spare bedroom. Within three days, he was starting to eat on his own and was feisty enough to try and escape to the rest of the apartment whenever I opened the door. His stitches were healing well, and we got a onesie for him to wear instead of the hated cone (not that he liked it much better). The vet checked in that Monday, and was almost as excited as I was to hear how well he was doing. We started letting him explore the rest of the apartment with Leira and Kenai when we were home to monitor him, so he got more stimulation and got to hang out in all his favorite spots. Everything was looking up.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. On Friday (the 22nd) I noticed that his eating was declining. We had just gotten him up to full calories through the feeding tube, so I figured it would take a while for his appetite to surpass what we were giving him. However, his appetite didn’t pick back up, and he began showing increased signs of nausea when I fed him. He also felt unusually warm. On Monday I called the vet, and left a message asking if this was normal recovery behavior. I spent the afternoon at home with him, waiting for the vet to call. They didn’t, so I called and asked again that evening – this time someone went back to talk to the vet in person. We were advised to take him to ER.

We went back to the ER where he had been hospitalized just ten days before. After a quick physical exam (where we saw he had lost even more weight, and he was feverish), they took him back for more bloodwork. He was extraordinarily anemic – his red blood cell count had decreased by half from its previous low levels. We could take him to a clinic that could do a blood transfusion – the nearest one was an hour away by car, and he’d have to stay there for at least 24 hours to make sure his body didn’t reject the blood. And since we didn’t know what was causing the anemia, it was likely the transfusion would only buy us a little time.

The next diagnostic step would be to test a sample of his bone marrow, a process that would involve putting him under anesthesia. There were three main suspects for his anemia at this point: a virus attacking his red blood cells and/or bone marrow, an autoimmune disorder (his body attacking his red blood cells), or cancer. We were advised that was a toss of the dice whether or not it was something treatable; even if it was, it would be extremely intensive and difficult for him.

We took some time to hold him close and think about our options. His options. For the last few weeks (and the last four years) we had discussed always trying to do what was best for him. And as he fell asleep in my arms, that most difficult choice became clear.

The vet told us we could take him home overnight if we wanted, but it we weren’t going to do a transfusion we should bring him back within 24 hours to put him to sleep. I didn’t want him to go through two more car rides (his most hated activity) and what would clearly be a painful and stressful night – we decided it would be best to let him go peacefully that night. He’d had a good day cuddling on the couch with me, Leira, and Kenai (one of the rare times I actually got a picture of him and the dog together). Luis and I held him for at least an hour, telling him we loved him and soaking in his sweetness.  Finally we knew we couldn’t delay any longer. Luis held me and I held Shadow as the vet administered the anesthesia, lulling him into sleep for the last time.

Shadow was so much more than we ever could have expected. I’ll never be able to describe him adequately, or what he meant to us. We will miss him forever, and cherish the time we did get to spend with him.

[knowyourworth-sellyoursoul]

Neon Gravestones

Summary:

Castiel Novak is a freshman college student fighting an internal battle. His best friend, the woman he loved, killed herself after an osteosarcoma diagnosis in her spine. In the aftermath of her death Castiel must find a way to rebuild himself without the support he relied on so heavily. While attending group therapy, Castiel is confronted with the man he thought he would not see again after their initial run-in at the counseling office. Dean Winchester, a brooding but kind student is also attending group therapy. As the semester progresses, the two's paths intersect in unexpected ways.

FIND IT ON AO3 (not linked out of fear of the tumblrbots): 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661923/chapters/41654180

Notes:

Hello all!

This is a story that I decided to write as a personal way of healing through some of the more traumatic moments in my life. While the initial description is dark, the story will have its shinning moments.

I would appreciate any feedback you have on the chapter. This is simply a glimpse at the fic I have in mind and I would live to know if I should continue.

Read the chapter here under the read more tab!

                                            Chapter 1: Fitting Weather

It was a rainy day. Fitting that Castiel would choose today of all days to complete the most emotionally draining chore he could think of. Of course, it wasn’t his decision really. He had asked the office for the soonest available appointment and they had scheduled it for this afternoon; the weather just so happened to fit the mood. This trip wasn’t something that he had planned on doing this semester. He had spoken to Jen about it more than once over the phone before… well before. 

Castiel walked up to the large, brick-faced building and stared at the sign just to the left of the double doors.

Center for Counseling, Main Office……………… 1st Floor

He grasped the metal handle on the door and pulled. Off to his left was a staircase and to the right was an entrance to the main office. He let the door slide closed behind him and stared at the one to the right of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go in, on the contrary, he very much wanted and needed to go in. What stopped him was overwhelming anxiety as he stared at the small welcome sign on the main office’s door. Cas looked beyond the sign and through the glass windows to see a petite woman sitting behind a desktop. She was focused on the screen but glanced away every so often to look at something next to her. Cas stretched out his hand to open the door but paused. Someone was walking up to the front desk.

Light brown hair, plaid shirt, bowlegs. Cas gripped the door handle and pulled, silently entering into the room. The man at the counter was nodding along with something the woman was saying, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. Cas saw the woman smile and put up a delicate hand.

“No need to pay yet, hun. You’ve got another three sessions covered by the university.”

The man muttered something too low for Castiel to hear and turned away, starting a little at the realization of Cas’ emergence in the doorframe. The man pulled himself up, back ramrod straight as he looked at Castiel. Cas watched his stiff hands as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket and pulled his phone out. Cas moved a little to the side to let the man leave, pulling his sleeves down his arms as he did so. He saw the man’s eyes glance down to track his movements, stare for a moment, and then return to Cas’ face as he began approaching the door. He nodded to Cas as he gripped the handle, making his exit without another word.

Cas watched him go for only a moment before turning back to the woman at the desk. She was smiling serenely at him, most likely trying to make him feel welcome.

“Do you have an appointment today, or are you trying to make an appointment?”

Cas moved forward to the desk, stopping when his waist bumped the front of it.

“I have an appointment made already,” Castiel murmured, “but this is my first one.”

“Well that’s alright dear let’s get you set up shall we? My name is Donna, I work the front desk here most of the time. If I’m not, there is a young woman named Claire-bit of an attitude on that one-who works here.”

Cas nodded as Donna continued her rambling, following her over to the desk in the corner where a desktop was sitting idle.

“Alright here you go dear. Just fill out your information and answer the questionnaire to the best of your ability. When you finish you can press submit and have a seat back over in the lobby. If you need any help just give me a holler!”

Cas sat at the desktop and stared at the screen as Donna’s figure retreated back behind her desk. The screen was a brilliant white that made an affront on Castiel’s eyes. After filling out the general information he clicked the start button and read through the first few questions. 

      What brought you into the counseling center?        How often do you drink each week?        How many drinks a week do you have?        Have you ever taken drugs for self medicative purposes?        What are they?        On a scale from 1 to 10, how would you rate your anxiety at this moment?        On a scale from 1 to 10, how would you rate your depression in the past six months?         In the past six months have you considered suicide or self harm? How often?

At this question Castiel laughed abruptly. He laughed hard. It was a kind of hysterical laugh that made Donna look up from her computer at him as he doubled over in his seat. Did they really expect him to admit how often these thoughts had crept into his mind recently? Did they suspect that he would answer this and not need to be sent to inpatient care?

Castiel continued to laugh until there were tears running down his cheeks and he was practically on the floor. It wasn’t until he took a deep, gasping breath that he heard Donna, the receptionist's, voice standing over him.

“Hunny! You need to breathe. Come on let’s get you to a seat. I’ll submit this for you. Do you need some water? Oh no don’t cry! It’ll be alright. You come over here and have a seat.”

Cas let himself be led away from the computer and back into the waiting lobby. He slowly calmed down, focusing on his breathing and accepting the water that Donna brought him from the small cooler in the corner. A few minutes passed in which Donna went back over to the computer terminal, submitted his responses for him, and made a phone call to who Castiel presumed would be his psychologist. He watched all of this at a distance, the high of his hysterics gone.

The door across from him, to the left of Donna’s desk, opened quietly. Castiel looked up to see a shorter woman with bright red hair and wide eyes looking warmly at him from across the room.

“Castiel?”

He stood up, but didn’t move. The woman smiled at him and gently waved him forward. He walked over to her and stopped just through the doorway. The woman let the door close behind them and gestured in front of them. As they walked together down the hallway, the woman turned to him slightly.

“My name is Anna Milton. It’s really nice to meet you Castiel. We are going to be on the second to last door on the right.”

They stopped at her door and Castiel paused in the doorway.

“You can go in and pick any seat you like. I will just follow your lead.”

Castiel briefly surveyed the room. Like the rest of the building, the walls were an off-white color. The office itself was decorated with various shades of blue and grey. Two sofas were pushed into the back right corner of the room. Two windows lined the wall across from the doorway and the blinds were pulled open. The rain had not let up from his entrance into the office, but Castiel found the sight of it against these windows comforting. He moved to the couch tucked furthest into the corner and curled his legs underneath him, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt as well. Anna took the seat opposite him and sighed quietly, removing her heels and folding her legs to the side.

“So Castiel,-”

“You can call me Cas.”

“Alright Cas. You can call me Anna. Mrs. Milton is a little formal in my opinion.”

Cas smiled at her quip and looked out the window, watching the rain roll down the pane.

“Well Cas, why don’t we start with something simple at first? What semester of school are you in?”

At this Castiel took a deep breath, turned to look at Anna, and began.

[wanderbitesbybobbie]

REAL TALK: Inside a Bipolar Mind Amidst a Pandemic

Three nights ago, I sent an e-mail to my psychiatrist. The e-mail went this way…

Hi, Dra. Belle. How are you? I hope you’re doing well and good and most of all healthy. I’m doing OK, with all the Covid 19 things happening. I just had 1 breakdown so far which I would really like to discuss with you on our next consult if there’s any slot available. I was scheduled for April 6 appointment, but if there’s any slot left for May, I would gladly take it. I’m not that anxious at the moment as I’ve been trying to avoid stressful news. Over all, I’m OK, except that I find it really hard to sleep again. Probably because I’m just at home, and I don’t have that much activities compared to my usual routine. I do cardio exercises, I write a lot for my blog, but because there’s longer time to rest, I really find it hard to sleep at night. I keep waking up with the body twitches again, and because of lack of sleep I’m usually irritable. I badly need to take Clonotril again. However, I can’t seem to find your latest prescription of Clonazepam (Clonotril), I’m not sure if there was one issued last March. I tried to show Mercury Drug the Feb 3 prescription which has been unused, but they said it’s already expired. They said, they will accept E-Prescription, so I have to ask my doctor for it. May I please request another copy of the prescription for Clonazepam? I still have my Quetiapine prescription and I was able to use it, I just dunno where I placed the Clonazepam. I know you always hand me 2 prescriptions every time. 1 for Quetiapine and 1 for Clonazepam. I’m just not sure if I misplaced the other one, or if I forgot to get a prescription for it last time. If it’s possible, please send it here on my e-mail. I only have 1 left in my stash and I’m a bit panicking because I can’t find the latest prescription. I attached here the photo of the February prescription. Thank you so much. Hope to hear from you soonest. Keep safe and God Bless.

I stood in front of the counter at my local pharmacy. It took them around half an hour before they were able to dispense my medication. Though my psychiatrist have issued the latest prescription, the pharmacist had to call the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency to verify how legit my papers were. Yes, it’s a usual practice. One of my medications is a controlled drug, and it is heavily regulated by PDEA. So I waited for the pharmacist until someone from PDEA answered their call. I kept calm. There was nothing I could do anyway.

SURVIVING THE QUARANTINE

It has been a month since the government decided to put the entire Luzon (northern part of the Philippines which includes Manila) on a community quarantine. All movements are limited. Mass transportation has been stopped. There are checkpoints everywhere. People from the private sector were asked to work from home. The government is badly trying to flatten the curve. Covid-19 has been winning for the last months. It has taken over the major economic centers of the world, USA, Italy, Spain, United Kingdom, China, Japan, it did not spare anyone. It took the rich and the poor, the old and the young. As of this writing, there are 2,215,167 Cases in the world, 149,676 Deaths, and about 560,672 has recovered according to Worldometers Info. It does not look good, wherever angle you would look at it.

I honestly don’t know where I stand, but I have a lot of things in mind. It’s 2:15 AM. If you would notice, most of my articles are posted at wee hours like this. Why? BECAUSE I HATE SLEEPING. I have recently discovered this during the time of this pandemic. I hate it when the clock strikes at around 12 midnight, that means I have to put myself to sleep again. Sleep is essential I know, but for someone like me who has a massive trouble sleeping, it’s not a pleasurable process. It comes with my disorder. My brain is hyperactive (manic) at this time. I am not like a normal person, who simply lies down in bed, tuck themselves comfortably in, and instantly falls asleep. I have to take heavy medications to put my relentless active brain cells to shut down. I have to wait for hours until they take effect. If sleeping is a dilemma for me, the same goes with waking up. It takes the same amount of effort to put me to sleep to be able to get me up to function.

But conversely, I am somehow liking the quarantine. It gives me so much time to be away from my tiresome daily hustle. I don’t have to go out everyday for work. I don’t have to wake up early to get multiple things done in a day. I don’t have to force myself to deal with people. I wake up, prepare breakfast, watch Netflix, prepare food for lunch and dinner, take photos of the food I make, maybe write for my blog, watch more movies, send some replies to client inquiries, and then prepare to sleep again. It has been my routine. Sometimes, I do the laundry, clean the house parts by parts, insert some cardio exercises every other day, give my dog a bath, run through our supplies and make a list of what needs to be restocked. It’s on repeat, sometimes I even lose track of what day it is. Some days I go on a grocery run to buy stocks for 2 weeks. The long queues had never been my problem as I have a disability ID allowing me to go on the priority lane. Then again, I have always thought about the people around me. Some, computing their budgets while they read-through their grocery lists. Some, fidgeting on their phones, maybe posting rants about the unbelievable lines they had to go through just to get inside the supermarket. I never experienced any of it, and for the first time, I say thanks to my disability. My PWD ID itself is a powerful immunity. I am thankful that I wouldn’t have to wait in line, as it would definitely increase my exposure to the virus. I am at high-risk, I am asthmatic, with so many deficiencies (according to my last lab results) and I’m taking medications for my brain. There is little chance for me to survive it, so I am taking extra precautions. But because of Covid, I became thankful for a lot of things. Things that never mattered before the pandemic. I am thankful that supermarkets are always restocked with supplies. People wouldn’t have to worry about scarcity. After all, that’s what the President promised. “We have enough food and supplies.” I am thankful I could drive my car. I wouldn’t have to carry heavy supplies from Point A to Point B with the absence of public transport. I am thankful for God’s grace and that we have enough. I am thankful that I can share and I wouldn’t have to cry for help and rely on the government. This pandemic has made me grateful for so many things more than ever.

Somehow, I am surviving the quarantine. I managed to endure with only 1 anxiety breakdown. I cried my constant worries away all my what-ifs. I was angry, I was worried, I was stressed. But at that time, my anxiety was less of a concern. There was a bigger predicament lingering throughout the globe and that was to stay at home to avoid the virus. I know I have to cope by myself, mainly because a trip to my psychiatrist would potentially expose me to the virus. My medications kept me stable and I am functioning well (so far, so good). When boredom strikes, I turn to writing and cooking. I have known my disorder for more than a year now, and it is clearly triggered by stress. A pandemic like this is an obvious trigger. I know I have to carefully eliminate things that would cause me to react.

REACTING TO SOCIAL DISTANCING AND ISOLATION

But there’s always a downside to every situation like this. As I walk inside the supermarket, I watched how people behaved like dormant zombies slowly pushing their carts. Except, they don’t have any human triggers that would make them agitated. With the quarantine going on, only one person per household is allowed to go out. They become the “tributes” as they brave the great outdoors to restock their supplies. Social distancing has been implemented. No one is talking to each other as they keep a safe distance from one another. Everyone wore their “gears” of protection. Wearing a face mask is the new norm.

10 minutes of this for someone with a major anxiety disorder can easily trigger a meltdown. Isolation stimulates sadness and depression and reduces the feeling of optimism. That is a fact. How do I know? Because I have experienced this first-hand. I always thank the people who take their time to read what’s on my Disability ID. “Mental and Psycho-social”, meaning I can go from zero to maximum breakdown at any given time. Bipolar Disorder (depressed or manic) can sometimes be activated without any clear external factors. Therefore, I cannot be left alone for a long time.

GREATER DANGERS ASIDE FROM THE VIRUS

I am lucky because somehow, I can still control my thoughts and my moods. Fortunately, I have not gone hysterical in public (yet and I hope not). My history of breakdowns have been in the corners of my house or within the walls of my room. Crying on the train or in the bus in Sydney does not count. I wasn’t hysterical. I have been applying everything from my therapies, from breathing exercises on how to calm down and talking to the people around me. I air out every feeling and emotion whether it’s happiness, sadness, excitement, fear, or whatever that comes in between. I still have a full-stock of my medications. Also, reading and writing has been my outlet. My extremely active mind has been converting somewhat manic thoughts to productivity, hence my multiple blog entries. I have a lot of things to say, so much in my mind, but I was taught in therapy that not everything needs a reaction.

Having a look around, there is no lucid conclusion with what lies ahead. Everything is not as stable as it seemed to be. No one was prepared. Everybody, including the most powerful are being challenged. It has become inevitable. But you know what greatly affects the world that seems to be unforeseen? People like me, diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, are facing additional challenges. According to Psychology Today, only 2.5 % of the population share these challenges: MOOD ELEVATION AND FULL BLOWN MENTAL BREAKDOWNS. 2.5 % of the world is Bipolar, and God knows what kind of cognitive and behavioral efforts for stress management we undertake amidst a crisis like this. Let’s take everything into consideration, not only Bipolar Disorder, but the list of other Mental Disorders can go on and on.

What is equally concerning is the amount of people suffering from anxiety even without having a proper diagnosis. The pandemic has brought this upon us. More people have become anxious. For some reason, I find myself very lucky. I was already geared with coping mechanisms before this happened. What happens to those who cannot manage?

Looking into the vast expanse of uncertainty and seclusion leaves people to mull over things that could possibly transpire in the future, at the mercy of their confused train of thoughts. The world feels further away, with everyone having their own sets of worries. Fears become louder. It has become a very unhealthy environment.

General access to uninterrupted screen time increases the pressure on the mental health even more. Social media, the news, anything that frequently suggest or conveys to your conscious or unconscious mind that you might be in danger are considered “threats” to your sanity and causes more fear. Leaving our vulnerable minds bare to a steady stream of these keep us all in an anxious mode. The accumulation of stress-triggers to our brain can develop more pessimistic thought patterns, and unnecessary emotions towards our current circumstances.

I am reaching out to all my fellow Mental Health Advocates, and to everyone who can possibly read this post. These are indeed out of the ordinary times for us. As we come to the point that we impose measures to protect our physical health, how about we do the same for our mental health? Try to listen to ourselves in a deeper context. Remember, we don’t have to go through this alone. Seek help if you must. You might be required to keep a safe distance from people, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that we have to disconnect.

KEEP CALM, KEEP SAFE AND MOST OF ALL HEALTHY, NOT JUST PHYSICAL, BUT MENTAL TOO. YOU ARE ALL IN MY MIND AND PRAYERS.

With Love From Quarantine,

    REAL TALK: Inside a Bipolar Mind Amidst a Pandemic was originally published on WanderBitesByBobbie

[ambieec]

Romans evil twin 👶🏻👶🏻 (part 1)

About 4 months after giving birth I could feel something wasn’t quite right. I had excruciating pain during sex, and my pelvis felt a bit tender. I could also see a lump when I layed down. I thought this was most likely my uterus and figured it was taking my body a little extra time to get back to normal after giving birth.

Nonetheless, I mentioned it to my doctor in January during my annual exam. My doctor felt around and didn’t really say much (probably not to scare me) and sent me for an ultrasound. Unfortunately at that time, the soonest available appointment they had was February 14th (2 weeks later). I wasn’t in a rush though. I didn’t mind waiting a bit.

On February 14th, I went in for my ultrasound like it was any other morning. Of course the technician isn’t allowed to say much, but she let me know the results should be available in a few days. She was really quiet during the ultrasound and focused on my left side a lot. But I wasn’t worried. Why should I be? I was a healthy 20 something that just gave birth a few months ago.

A few days later my doctor called with the results. I had a 11cm mass growing from my left ovary.

WHAT.

How is that possible? My stomach is completely flat. I have no symptoms and nothing indicating something of that size is growing in my abdomen. My doctor assured me that the cyst was just a dermoid, and due to the size, needed to be removed.

The size of the cyst made me uneasy. She was telling me not to worry, but I was worried. Dermoid cysts are NOT suppose to grow like that. At all. It went from 4cm in May- to 11cm in February, so it was growing super fast. Again, dermoid cysts do not grow that fast.

My doctor ended up ordering an MRI to get a better look at the cyst. After battling with my insurance company to get the approval for the MRI for most of the morning, I was able to finally schedule it. FOR THREE WEEKS OUT. I said, absolutly not. So I called and harassed three different hospitals, and got put on the call list for if an opening came up for that day. I fasted an entire day, waiting and hoping someone would cancel and I could get my MRI. Thankfully, there was a cancellation.

Three days later I received a call from my doctor. She had the results from the MRI. It was NOT a dermoid cyst. In fact, she did not know WHAT it was. She released the MRI report and encouraged me to make an appointment with a gynecologist oncologist for follow up.

When I read the report my jaw dropped. All I could see were the words “worrisome for malignancy” and “immature teratoma”. No. This couldn’t be right. This had to be someone else’s MRI. Cancer???

Cancer doesn’t happen to people like me. Cancer doesn’t happen to healthy 28 year olds.

I immediately scheduled an appointment with a doctor at Sloan Kettering, as well as a doctor from Weill Cornell for a second opinion. That Friday, I was pacing back and forth in the exam room, crying, anxiously waiting to meet with the doctor and to get her opinion on what this thing was.

After my exam, she took us into her office. “We don’t know what it is, but from the MRI, it looks like it could be an immature teratoma, or a super rare germ cell cancer”. I was a mess. At a loss for words. How could this be happening? Luckily, She fit me in for surgery 5 days later. She also was going to have her radiologist look at my MRI (who happens to be one of the best in the country). I ended up doing all my pre-op testing that day- including blood work for tumor markers. We cancelled our trip to San Francisco and prepared for the big surgery.

Saturday morning, I checked my online account for the previous days blood work results.

AFP: 72

CA-125: 103

CA 19-9: 63

All three are tumor markers. All three were elevated/positive.

It was then that I knew. I have CANCER.

We cried a lot that weekend. How could something like this be happening??? What’s going to happen to me? Will we get through this? Has it spread? So many questions and no one to answer them.

Somehow we made it through the weekend. I don’t think I ate or slept much. Neither of us really did. Finally my doctor called. She relayed the news that I already knew, it was very likely that I had cancer. My blood work as well as radiology report confirmed this. She suggested we do the open cut so she can go in and remove the mass as carefully as possible a while also staging me for cancer.

Of course I agreed. Anything you need to do, you do it. I want to be around for my son. There’s no other option. We had a lot of support during this time thankfully, my dad and uncle came from California. My grandmother and Ryan’s parents came down to help with the baby during my surgery.

Wednesay, February 28th was the day Roman’s evil twin was born.