Trying to Digest the News

How do I handle this?

Several months back I wrote of my breathing problems and pressure in my chest during walks. Over the summer, a large lump also appeared on the left side of my neck. As a person who's gone much of her adult life without health insurance (god bless America), it isn't my first impulse to consult with an expensive medical doctor or specialist. I tried acupuncture and oriental medicine, first, as it was something I could afford. The goiter on my neck did reduce in size, somewhat, but it didn't go away. Also, for a while now, I have had weekly oxygen therapy which also assisted in my breathing problems. But, I still was having difficulty.

Because I live in this isolated tiny town, I have to drive at least 80 miles to see a cardiologist (the only one in town had a 2-month waiting time for new patients). After my consultation, EKG and echo-cardiogram, I found out I wasn't just imagining my chest pain. My aorta has expanded to a dangerous size - and has increased nearly a centimeter in the past year - and I will need open-heart surgery to repair the wall of the heart, so it doesn't tear. If it does, the results are always fatal.

The day after I got this news, I saw an endocrinologist (in a different city, 40 miles from the cardiologist), who told me I needed to have the goiter surgically removed, as well as the left part of my thyroid where the goiter was resting. Also, the lump has moved my breathing tube (trachea) over an inch to the right, which might make the cardiac surgery more difficult.

Mostly, I feel angry about this news. I thought I would never have to experience the physical trauma of open-heart surgery ever again, because I could have a non-invasive procedure to replace my bad valve, if ever it should be needed. The valve is holding up - 6 years later, it is fine. But, why is the aorta enlarging? I just found out my father died of an aortic aneurism. Perhaps bad hearts are hereditary. I lived through the radiation releases of Three Mile Island, 10 miles from where I grew up in Pennsylvania. In the tiny town where I currently live, the drinking water was recently shown to contain 300 times the acceptable amount of uranium. While I have switched to bottled water, I shower in this as well as brush my teeth and wash my dishes in the contaminated stuff. Either of these could be the cause. Or, that one day, when I downed a box of Pepperidge Farm Cheddar Goldfish - in a rash decision to break my gluten-free diet - could have caused an imbalance. I don't know.

How do I handle this? The next step is to get a CT scan from a cardiac surgeon, in Albuquerque, 3 hours away from me. Then I wait on the results of the biopsy of my thyroid goiter. Depending on the results - i.e. if the thyroid has CANCER, we can determine which surgery is first.

All I can do is state the facts. I don't like the thought of surgery. Why do they have to take out half of my thyroid if it is functioning correctly? Can't they just remove the lump? How will my body handle all of this surgical trauma? I guess it will or it won't. I'm not looking forward to all of this and I feel alone and unloved. That is an automatic response, for some reason. I know I'm not unloved - I have my sisters and I've shared all of this on Facebook and have plenty of contacts sending love and prayers. But still, it is not the same as having strong arms holding me and saying "we'll get through this".  I go to my pity place, I guess.

I know I'll feel differently in a few days and will edit this post. But right now, I just want to share what I'm really feeling. (which, I know, still sounds very fact-driven and Capricorn-like).

Like a Cat on an Adobe Roof

I had a Christmas meltdown yesterday. In mid-November. I freaked out, got high anxiety then shut down emotionally. I thought it started when somebody I used to work with in radio posted on Ye Olde Facebooke that he was tuning into the satellite radio station already playing Christmas music 24 hours a day. Can't fathom his holiday excitement and when others commented they too had started tuning in, I knew The Christmas Crash might visit early this year. Later in the day, another person innocently posted a 'meme' telling us how to find our Christmas elf name. I could feel my face redden and the blood start to boil. I retreated further inside of myself and posted a slightly offensive anti-holiday rant on my page. I ate a package of gluten-free crackers and some sharp cheddar cheese, hoping for the calm healing of carbohydrates. I went to bed 2 hours early.

When I awoke at 3am this morning, I examined yesterday's thoughts and behaviors. Why does Christmas put me in such a state? I thought I'd figured it out, intellectually, two years ago. Last year, while I wasn't jolly, I didn't sink into deep malaise, like I have every year in recent memory. Why was I reacting this way now? Then it came to me - the cat on the adobe roof.

For the past week and a half, I was cat sitting for a lady in town. She has a gorgeous adobe home with the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in and two soft and sweet kitties who live inside and two skittish and fluffy feral cats outside. My world was filled with petting and purring for nearly two weeks. All was blissful for eleven days and nights. On the twelfth day, I returned back from working as an elder caregiver, and the inside cats wanted to venture out of doors for a while. Since their mommy told me it was OK, I let them out. After about an hour, when the younger cat, who always rushes back inside when called, didn't return, I got nervous. I repeatedly shook a can of cat food and called her name. Finally, I heard a frantic little meow from up above. Little Skye was traipsing on top of the adobe roof, trying to find a way down. She was scared. I was frantic.

I found a step ladder and gingerly climbed. Each step higher made my head spin (vertigo), but I was desperate to reach the kitty and pull her down. I kept failing. It was getting dark and coyotes were howling, so I decided to call a friend in town who has a soft spot for young men and always has at least one 23 year-old hanging about, to ask for her help. I thought she could loan me a young nimble boy to scamper up on the roof and quickly scoop up Skye to bring her to safety. Surprise! People don't usually react the way we think they will. Instead of offering up sympathy and one of her friends, she took it upon herself to chastise me for my irresponsibility and ineptitude. I sure did not need that. I needed a supportive friend who could offer me some help! I was sucked into a vortex that took me back to my childhood and the overly critical voice of my mother. Not a happy place.

After five dark hours of panic and pleas, I was finally able to lure the kitty to the lowest part of the roof, where, after climbing to the top rung of the step ladder, I got her to come close to my quivering hand. Grabbing her by the scruff of the neck I pulled her down to the ground and shuffled her inside. It was not how I intended to spend the last day of cat sitting. But, I was relieved she was safe.

While the situation had resolved itself, I was still pushed into a state of  childhood PTSD by my friend's words and my own self critique. For the following two days, I found myself overly tired and irritable. Then I stumbled across the Christmas songs and Facebook posts. It all combined into a mini-meltdown. I don't want to spend half of November and December, this year, in the fetal position or acting out dramas from my past. Am praying that this insight will enable me to calmly face the holiday season without feeling the anguish of being unloved. Poor little Skye. She didn't know what her dalliance on that adobe roof would do to me.

Art Again

My first painting in many years. No title just yet.

Prismacolor pencil and graphite on cardboard, 40" x 20" (apx - no ruler). 

What drives creativity? I don't know but I am sure glad it is back!

***Update 11-2-2014

Today, I hate it! The back-and-forth overly-critical mind gets its way today. Tomorrow, I might begrudgingly think it is OK.

Again, however, very thankful that I feel like creating again.