A Setback...

I had a very bad day yesterday. My patience was short. My temper was a very noticeable size. I had a headache and the kids weren't in the frame of mind to...Well, MIND.

Moonpie and I had a big fight. About discipline. In front of the kids. He was too rough with Carson (my boy who is AFRAID of being thrown into the air or swung around by his legs) and so, Carson FREAKED out. Then Moonpie (more like an A$$pie right now), was verbally mean to him. Calling him a sissy and telling him to stop crying and acting like a little girl. So, that got me angry. Then Moonpie was about to swing Claudia around by her legs and Caden was all excited and toddled over and grabbed Claudia's hair, which was beautifully hanging down...And Moonpie just leaned over and slapped him on the upper arm, like 4 times. Hard. No verbal warning or anything. I went ballistic. He's a BABY. I know it hurt Claudia and all, but did he have to slap--his--arm??!! Wouldn't a loud NO and swat on the diapered bottom have worked? Caden screamed and RAN to Calie, the next closest person to him.

I snatched him up and asked Moonpie to "...NOT ABUSE THE KIDS PLEASE!!" But I really didn't ask him. So. He was to rough and tough. And I over reacted. No. Really I did. You mean you didn't hear me scream at him? In front of the kids. It really upset Calie. I was really upset, too. As usual it was all turned around and it was all my fault for "freaking out". So, I give up.

I can't do ANYTHING right. I give up. Whatever he says. I'll be the maid. The nanny. The cook. Whatever. I hid back 9 Vicodin. I will need them to stay cool. To keep calm and never raise my voice. To listen to his lecturing and controlling ass. To...Mind. It is either that or go insane again.

Today, he said I should take the kids to eat lunch and "do something with them". So we got dressed and I (he is at work...He is ALWAYS either at work or working out) took them. Then it started to rain so I took them to an indoor playground type thing. A man came up to me and pointed to Carson. "Is he yours?" "Umm, yes" "Well, my son made a big domino set-up and *he* (pointing to Carson) knocked it all over." I replied: "Oh well. That's a 4 year old for you." And I walked away. Ass. I should have said "Well sir, I will beat him when we get home. Will that make up for it?"

The house is clean and spaghetti is made. I will serve him dinner then clean up. I will bathe his children. Fold his clothes and turn down his bed. Then I will tuck his kids into bed and try to sleep. Or plan the day I run away.

I hope tomorrow I wake in a better state of mind. Or mood. Right now I feel down and out. Tired. Beaten down. Lost. Like a loser.

Please don't comment. Your good comments will make me feels bad. Your bad comments will make me hate you. This wasn't posted for sympathy/empathy or advice/assvice. Or a tongue lashing. It was posted as an outlet. I feel better just "saying" it.

PS: Labs came back on my vah jay-jay. It's all clear. No cancer. All lipoma. (yay)

For Your Eyes Only...

No, no, no. Not a picture. A few links to check out while my hind quarters is out of commission--can't sit well.

(*singing*) Here are a few of my favorite things:

http://www.myfuckingeye.com/ ("E"!!!! and her own Ken Doll--and a Texan at heart)

http://ebonymommy.com/blog/ ("Y" is a hip and happening hot momma--a brown Martha Stewart even--she is so crafty and my Hero because she just lost 30 pounds)

http://www.dooce.com/ (Heather--this is who I wanna BE when I grow up)


I read a few others too--Candy B's, Kimmy's--and I will read Sam's. I read Tertia's alot...here I'll post hers too: http://tertia.typepad.com/so_close/ (She is in South Africa)

Check them all out--while I apply more ice and take a big ole pain pill...

*Whine, Whine, Whine, Whine...*

It hurts. Even after taking 3 small (375mg) Hydrocodone. After an ice pack for 8 hours straight. After laying on the couch, panty-less.

It is all black and blue too. Mainly blue with twinges of black. With white stitches poking out. And swollen. Hugely. I almost wish I could take a picture and post it on here and show you. You wouldn't believe it. It doesn't even LOOK like a hoo-ha SHOULD look. It is deformed. And it hurts.

I have pain sitting. Right now I am standing, bent over the keyboard with my naked ass pointed towards the fan. I can't wear anything but LOOSE pants--I've been wearing scrub bottoms or soft cotton work out capris--but the no panty rule sucks.

I won't see Dr Gynocological Oncologist/Surgeon/Twat Destroyer for 3 weeks. His nurse called me yesterday to check on my pain. And my poor, destroyed, maimed hoo-ha. I told her that the 30 pills they gave me would not make it long. She said they would refill me when I ran out--they BETTER!

She told me I could "resume my regular duties" BUT I can't: pick up anything over 10# for 2 weeks, shower--until I see the doctor, do alot of bending or stooping, vacuum or do "vigorous" housework OR have sex for 6 weeks (umm, yeah. like that is happening anytime soon. Soooo glad she told me this--I was thinking of trying all those funky positions in Cosmo on Saturday...)

One bright bit of sunshine: I got a letter from VIC!!!!! When I get lucid and have something to talk about besides my...ya know...purple/black caterpillar between my legs I'm gonna write her back (sending you hugs...Part of your letter made me sad--but I have soooo been there). Another happy bit: My 2 friends, who live here in this one horse town came over yesterday. One cooked home made chicken pot pie and a strawberry/cream cheese pizza! I just laid on the couch and held her 2 month old. My other friend sat and visited and played prison guard over Carson and Erins 2 girls--OH! and Claudia came over and visited us--She has been at my Grandmothers since Monday night.

Now I need to go lay down. Put more ice on it. Watch The Today Show. Sigh. Later...

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat...Where Have You Been?...

I've been in a fight with the Heavy Weight Champion of the World. Well, that's how it feels. It is 6AM. I woke at 4AM with a throbbing in my loins...Not the good throbbing either. And my throat hurts. And my face is raw. Here's how it went down yesterday:

We got to Dallas about 10AM. Got my vitals checked. Blood work (again). Then sat in the waiting room for 90 min. Then I was called back. Put in a curtained off area and told to get into the lovely evening ensemble that opens in the back. I told my anesthesiologist to tell whoever does the shaving to hook me up with the "all or nothing" hairdo. She told me that they would intubate me later I was "out"--so my throat might hurt when I woke up (wth?). Got my happy shot and was happy. I remember rolling into surgery and thinking "it is BRIGHT in here" and I remember hopping from one gurney to the next (sorta). I remember hearing/seeing the anesthesiologist and my doc bumping heads as they leaned over me to make sure I was centered on the bed--and I remember thinking "What is this?? The 2 Stooges??" (hope I didn't say that outloud).

Next thing I remember is waking. Being in pain. Erica (a lovely Post Op Nurse) hooked me up with Demerol. Apparently alot of it. But it didn't take care of my pain really. But caused my face to feel as if 1,000,000,000 bugs were crawling under the skin. So I scratched. I rubbed. So I got another shot of something. And MORE Demerol. And more anti itch stuff. I was told I had been in Post Op for 3 hours. Moonpie came in and told me that the tumor was bigger than we all thought. It was the size of a lemon. Not a HUGE lemon but a lemon. So the surgery was more involved. The nasty lemon left me with a hole or indention where my left major labia was. So they had to stretch other muscle and tissue over to that area to help fill in the gap.

The *huge* dude in the bed next to me woke up fighting and they all had to get a bit mean with him to get him to WAKE UP, ROBERT! It was sorta funny to see him swinging his massive arms and everyone ducking and talking to him like he was 3. "Robert! The surgery is finished! You are in Recovery!! Wake UP! Stop fighting us! Stop it!" He just growled like a bear and kept swinging. But after he woke up he was cool. Until he asked me if I had had hip or knee replacement (he got a new hip). I just told him neither...That I had a tumor removed (but not from where). That pretty much shut him up.

My head, face, ears were itching soooooo bad. We left there at 7PM with vicodin. Ice packs. Funky pads to catch all the leaking blood. Advice to squirt myself off with hydrogen peroxide ALOT and to use the blow dryer to dry myself. Go bottomless and keep the ice on for 24 hrs. By now it had been 24 hours since I had last eaten. I got a salad from McD and ate 1/3 before laying down in the back of the car (had the presence of mind to pack a pillow and blanket earlier). Slept all the way home.

When I got home I went to the bathroom with my peri bottle, peroxide and a hand mirror. OMG. It looks sooooooooo ugly. So scary. So....Deformed (and bald). Really. It looks BAD. Like...I dunno, just really "f"d up.

I slept on the couch. Calie slept on the love seat in case I needed her in the night. Moonpie slept with Carson in our bed. Caden slept in the pack N play in the living room. When I woke up my nose felt raw and sunburned (from all the skin I rubbed off). My throat is sooooo sore. My hoo-ha hurts. BAD. Throbbing. PAIN.

Now I'm gonna go put more ice on it and watch the news. Maybe call Moonpie at work. Maybe not.

(This message brought to you by the lovely phrases: "lemon sized", "Pain. BAD." and by the beautiful haze know as "vicodin".)

I'm Scheduled...

I'm having it out on Wednesday. Today is Sunday. So...tomorrow my
sister is taking me to shop. She has a big ole $100 gift card to spend at Bath & BodyWorks...so I'm gonna help her pick out goodies (maybe a few for ME!)! We are going sans kids. Well except for her smallest. He will be in the third grade (slap me if I'm wrong, Little Sister) but acts like he is 40ish. I'm not kidding. He is very quiet. Reserved. He certainly makes up for her first one (although he is a GREAT kid too--just the opposite of his little bro).

Tuesday I am being chauffeured to Dallas by a friend. I hate driving in Dallas traffic. Plus she is from there--so she knows her way around. I have "pre OP" there. Which means we are driving about 3 hours to have my blood pressure taken and fill out 40 reams of paperwork. I'm sure that will totally piss me off. I just don;t understand why, why, WHY they can't just have me come in 2 hours early on surgery day and do it all then...

The very next day, Moonpie and I will drive right back up there for the snip-snip, sew-sew. So, at 1PM on Wednesday, while some of you are eating lunch, others are watching Days Of Our Lives (and you should be ashamed of yourselves, really!), I will be sucking gas and laying naked, white and fat on a table with several men looking at my stretch marks and funky hairline under a spotlight. Good times, people!

What I really started thinking about was...what will I wear post surgery?? Will my "drawers" irritate my site? Will I have to wear tent dress things for a few days? Will I have to have the stiches OUT or will they just fall out on their own? I really do not relish going back in (without gas) and having someone pull cat gut out of my...umm...l-l-l-l-l...sorry, can't say it. Will they shave a little strip? or the whole left side? Or the whole enchilada...or "taco"? How many times will Caden put his foot in my crotch? How many times will Carson elbow me there? How many times will Claudia ask to see my "'gina...Where they took out the knot" ?? Will sitting be a problem? Wouldn't bother me--sounds like a good reason for lounging on the couch for a few days in the prone position.

So. hmmmm. Think I'll just leave it there. End this one like this. Mainly because it is 9:20PM and Claudia wants to know it it's "sleepover night". (I usually let them have a night per week that we all sleep in the living room--them on pallets and me on the couch...they LOVE it. We watch TV until we fall asleep and sometimes--but not tonight--have popcorn) So I have to go get Moonpie out of the living room so we can snuggle down. Night all...

Pack Your Bags, Tumor...You Are Outta Here...

Saw the Oncologist today. He was Very, Very nice. Wasn't as good looking as I like my breast and hoo-ha fondlers to be--but he made up for it in personality. I got a full exam (yippee...not)...But not the finger in the "exit only" entrance, if ya know what I mean...So THAT was a plus.

We decided to have surgery to remove it. Because it is still growing. Because it hurts upon "intercourse" (gag. I hate that word). And because I want the fat outta there and sent to a lab to make *sure* it isn't cancer. I hate "it doesn't *look* like cancer...But we aren't *sure*". He said it would probably be day surgery and that I may (may. That sounds like when my kids ask for ice cream and I say "MAYbe"--means I don't think that is what will happen but I'm saying that so you will shut up for 5 minutes) get to go home that same day! And he showed me with his fingers how long the incision would be...gasp. About 2" long!! On my left labia (gag on that word too). Doesn't that sound like it will hurt? Did you cringe? I did.

He talked to me about my depression. Seems he has a background in that too. He studied psychology extensively. He even made me cry. We were talking about it and all of a sudden I was teary eyed and all choked up. Then he hugged me. Goodness--don't you know? You should never hug someone who does NOT want to cry?? Because then they HAVE to cry. But he was nice. I like him. I trust my hoo-ha to him. He told me the cutest story. He said his daughter is 12 now. But when she was about 6, he came home from work and she ran to him--like kids do--all excited. He crouched down and put his hands on her face--cupping her cheeks, to give her a kiss. She pushed him away and said "Yuck. You have been fiddlin' with "twawnies" all day." I laughed!! While he was fiddlin' with *MY* "twawnie". Outrageous. Usually I have to lay in total concentration on keeping my legs from slamming shut and I have to chant (in my head) "I am not here. I am somewhere else. I am not here. I am somewhere else..."

Soooo...When he gets back to his office (remember? He only comes to our one horse town once per month)...He will have "Tammy" call me and schedule the surgery. I'll let ya know what day it is...so you can all pray, light a candle or shred some carrots for the Carrot god. Iffen ya wanna. I want you to wanna.

PS: "E"...I can't get a comment to go on your blog. And FYI--the back of my neck is peeling--looks awful. But the back of my legs look sooooo tan. Hope you enjoyed Mexico. And I have another friend who claims to be the whitest Hispanic--she has dark hair and eyes--but the creamiest skin...It is sorta funny.