Journal entry by Dixie Durham —
Greetings to all. It's been over a year since I last updated, but I was on the website following up on a friend's mother and was drawn here.
Last year I had a biopsy of what turned out to be a seroma (just a collection of fluid in a small area) but we were worried that something was going down in lymph node land. But I was reassured that seromas happen right after surgery up to years and years after. The stress of it, though, caused me to withdraw and retreat because the six weeks between the CT scan and the biopsy were reminiscent of the original waiting period before the actual breast cancer diagnosis was reported. I couldn't really deal. But as always, we made it through.
Things have been going well this year for the most part. I had surgery in July to remove my last, withered, worthless ovary. I've already been through menopause so it really had no function except to potentially cause me issues. The story of the surgery is kind of funny but I'll tell it another day. Recovery was disappointingly long and I had just started to feel some energy creeping in when I developed a detached retina.
Although of course I have moments of wondering "why is this happening to me?" the rest of the question is "why not?" So I try not to dwell on the oh poor me stuff and focus on the positive things.
So, I woke up one morning on the Friday before Labor Day unable to see anything out of my right eye. Everything was black except for a small portion at the top of the eye. I did some checking with Dr. Google and finally talked my husband into taking me to the ER. It is never a good sign when they take you RIGHT back to the ER room after you've checked in and that's exactly what happened. So ER told me I had a cataract, which I knew, and gave me a referral to one. On the way out of the parking lot, we called the referral and he was in the office answering his own phone. So I described the problem and he invited me to his office right then. He is moving from a group practice to his solo practice and was setting up equipment. He did tell me that I do indeed have a cataract but my bigger problem is a detached retina. He doesn't do retinas. But he has a friend in town who does, and he called him right away. I was invited to see him as soon as we could get to his office. So I'm sitting in the retina specialist's office at 5:30 pm on the Friday before Labor Day and was reassured that it could be fixed and should be urgently but didn't have to be done that minute.
I had surgery on the following Wednesday and it was about as fun as it sounds. They give you 10 minutes' worth of propofol and then wake you up. So I'm awake, with my face completely covered and weird sounds and flashing lights going on in my right eye, and just spent the time trying to breathe and center. I was successful until the surgical nurse leaned over and covered my mouth and nose with her hand. Granted, everything was covered, but I started to panic thinking I was going to suffocate right there. I knew I couldn't wiggle. I did talk myself down by realizing that they had me on a monitor and I would show signs there before I expired. So I moved my mouth a little to relax my jaw and she moved her hand. Thank goodness.
And then the doctor started signing along with the radio and I was completely undone.
The recovery was okay, but I did have to stay with my right cheek down for 7 days, getting up for 5ish minutes every hour. At first it sounded wonderful, but by the end of the seventh day I was pretty well done with the couch.
However, my energy is still lagging, and I have a bubble in my eye that acts to seal the retina where it belongs to prevent it running away again. I don't know why my energy is so low, but I am just dealing with it and doing my best.
Yesterday, I turned 62. Not a day passes that I don't find something to be grateful for, even if it's something small. But something like being able to live is not small. I am not usually one that wants to do a big celebration for my birthday, especially after my mom died. But being alive is worth a little celebration.
Hope you get a little something to celebrate today.
Last year I had a biopsy of what turned out to be a seroma (just a collection of fluid in a small area) but we were worried that something was going down in lymph node land. But I was reassured that seromas happen right after surgery up to years and years after. The stress of it, though, caused me to withdraw and retreat because the six weeks between the CT scan and the biopsy were reminiscent of the original waiting period before the actual breast cancer diagnosis was reported. I couldn't really deal. But as always, we made it through.
Things have been going well this year for the most part. I had surgery in July to remove my last, withered, worthless ovary. I've already been through menopause so it really had no function except to potentially cause me issues. The story of the surgery is kind of funny but I'll tell it another day. Recovery was disappointingly long and I had just started to feel some energy creeping in when I developed a detached retina.
Although of course I have moments of wondering "why is this happening to me?" the rest of the question is "why not?" So I try not to dwell on the oh poor me stuff and focus on the positive things.
So, I woke up one morning on the Friday before Labor Day unable to see anything out of my right eye. Everything was black except for a small portion at the top of the eye. I did some checking with Dr. Google and finally talked my husband into taking me to the ER. It is never a good sign when they take you RIGHT back to the ER room after you've checked in and that's exactly what happened. So ER told me I had a cataract, which I knew, and gave me a referral to one. On the way out of the parking lot, we called the referral and he was in the office answering his own phone. So I described the problem and he invited me to his office right then. He is moving from a group practice to his solo practice and was setting up equipment. He did tell me that I do indeed have a cataract but my bigger problem is a detached retina. He doesn't do retinas. But he has a friend in town who does, and he called him right away. I was invited to see him as soon as we could get to his office. So I'm sitting in the retina specialist's office at 5:30 pm on the Friday before Labor Day and was reassured that it could be fixed and should be urgently but didn't have to be done that minute.
I had surgery on the following Wednesday and it was about as fun as it sounds. They give you 10 minutes' worth of propofol and then wake you up. So I'm awake, with my face completely covered and weird sounds and flashing lights going on in my right eye, and just spent the time trying to breathe and center. I was successful until the surgical nurse leaned over and covered my mouth and nose with her hand. Granted, everything was covered, but I started to panic thinking I was going to suffocate right there. I knew I couldn't wiggle. I did talk myself down by realizing that they had me on a monitor and I would show signs there before I expired. So I moved my mouth a little to relax my jaw and she moved her hand. Thank goodness.
And then the doctor started signing along with the radio and I was completely undone.
The recovery was okay, but I did have to stay with my right cheek down for 7 days, getting up for 5ish minutes every hour. At first it sounded wonderful, but by the end of the seventh day I was pretty well done with the couch.
However, my energy is still lagging, and I have a bubble in my eye that acts to seal the retina where it belongs to prevent it running away again. I don't know why my energy is so low, but I am just dealing with it and doing my best.
Yesterday, I turned 62. Not a day passes that I don't find something to be grateful for, even if it's something small. But something like being able to live is not small. I am not usually one that wants to do a big celebration for my birthday, especially after my mom died. But being alive is worth a little celebration.
Hope you get a little something to celebrate today.
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