2015 started with a heartbreak.
All of the things that I thought I knew, I didn’t know at all. Turns out everything was a big fat lie and I let myself be deceived. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I knew it was coming, braced myself for the eventual pain but it still hurt nonetheless.
When you ask somebody if they still want to be together and all you got is silence on the other end, that, itself is an answer.
So I moved on.
Or at least some semblance of getting through each day.
I filled my time with work, letting out my frustrations at the gym and spending time with family so that at the end of the day, I was so exhausted that I had no time think of anything or somebody else except sleep.
Wake up. Go to work. Work out. Eat. Sleep.
Before I knew it, it was already June.
On my birthday weekend, I started to experience sharp stomach pains. I attributed it to food poisoning since we had Chinese food but another attack two days later, this time on the right upper quadrant and after a visit to the urgent care revealed multiple stones in my gall bladder in which one of them was blocking my common bile duct. It was no fun retching that whole weekend, but on the upside, I lost the almost 10 lbs I was trying to lose for the longest time.
The urgent care doctor wanted me to undergo a procedure to remove the stone ASAP but I had a week long trip to Vegas coming up so that would just have to wait. Suffice to say, I tried a six day long regimen that I saw on FB about shrinking stones (to no avail) and let’s just say that chugging down half a cup of olive oil with half a cup of lemon is eewwww. I’ll never look at a vinaigrette the same way ever again.
Having to brave the 100 degree desert heat is not fun but to be able to see the grandeur and majesty of the Grand Canyon and Zion was worth it. Even if my phone was stolen in the process. And all that’s left of it for me to remember it by was the charger.
July came strolling along and I had ECRP to remove the stone that’s blocking the common bile duct. As it was my first procedure/ surgery ever, I was a nervous wreck by the time they wheeled me into the OR. The last thing I remembered was that they were strapping the compression sleeves around my calves. I woke up after and was described as a happy drunk but a very difficult patient, according to my family.
It was the month of August when I fell in love with Taylor Swift. I went to her 1989 World Tour concert a skeptic but came out of Levi’s Stadium a certified Swiftie.
I had scheduled to have a laparascopic cholecystectomy in October but the consult with the general surgeon took a rather quite interesting turn. He was going over through my records and history when he looked up and asked to confirm about my breast cancer…. in 1999. Awkward pause. My first thought was, wait, is he telling me I have cancer???? It so happened that a couple pages of another patient’s chart got mixed up with mine. I’ve never been both scared and amused in my life.
Mom was due a week before my surgery to take care of me while I recover but of course, as they say, when it rains, it pours. I didn’t know how I did it but my right wrist started hurting and got so swollen that it merited another visit to the urgent care. Xrays revealed a calcification in my wrist and a suspected tear in the scapholunate ligament. I missed a week of work and I couldn’t even take the anti-inflammatory meds that the doctor has prescribed since I have surgery the following week. I’ve never appreciated having to have both functioning hands more than that moment. I was already thinking of worst case scenarios— it was Mozzie who said that behind every worst case scenario is a worst worst case scenario. I had already spoken to the hand therapist at work about prognosis and rehab and although prognosis is good, rehab is tedious and long since it’s a ligament repair.
Fast forward to the lap chole, it went smoothly and I’ve never been more grateful for family and friends. I checked in at the hospital whole, I was discharged minus a gall bladder. That and a picture of me in all of my bedhead and bedraggled glory.
As Thanksgiving neared, I had an appointment with an orthopedic doctor for my wrist and he mentioned that the gap between the scaphoid and lunate sometimes can be congenital. I was filled with a small sense of hope that the ligament might not be torn at all. They did a comparison Xray for both wrists and it revealed a difference of not even half a millimeter. He requested an MRI and arthrogram just to be on the safe side and the best $40 that I’ve ever spent was when the doctor told me that both diagnostic exams were normal.
Yay! No more poking! No more probing! No more prodding!
No more hospital or even urgent care visits for me! I’ve never been poked and prodded so much in my life since I think when I was born. That’s enough to last me a lifetime.
At the end of November, I finally decided to pursue my doctorate in PT. It’s been a long time coming but I promised myself at the beginning of the year that I would. So I did.I’m currently finishing my application for the spring semester and hoping to get in. I’m both terrified and excited since it’s been 14 years since I graduated but I owe myself this.
2015 has been a hell of a year.
A day into 2016, I finally deleted Johnny’s voice mails.
I’ll let Taylor Swift say it all.