Good Morning! Lots of things have been going on lately. Yesterday, I had an unremarkable ultrasound to check for more endometriosis. The fact that it was unremarkable wasn’t very surprising to me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was almost disappointed. Endometriosis is a funny disease. It can only be conclusively diagnosed by a surgical procedure, which then removes the excess tissue. Last time I had such a surgery, the ultrasound tech was able to point out about 4 areas of considerable growth, but they were on organs I no longer have. My suspicions are that if the disease is back, it’s growing on my pelvic floor and ureters-and that can’t be seen with the ultrasound. I’m waiting to hear back from the doctor now, he’s going to look at the scans and they’ll let me know how he’d like to proceed. I don’t want to think this is all in my head, but the pain is back. I know it’s back, and I know what kind of pain it is. I’ve been on this road before, and I know where it’s going. I usually wait as long as possible, until I can’t hardly stand the pain to schedule my next surgery. But the tech made an interesting point yesterday-most women do that, but ultimately that just means more growths and that makes it harder for the doctor to get everything. That means the pain undoubtedly returns sooner, and then you repeat the cycle. So mentally, I’m already planning that I’ll need to have another laparoscopy soon. September is a busy month for us-first anniversary, trip to Chicago, meeting Neil DeGrasse Tyson. So honestly, if he wants to do this, then we need to schedule it now. Because otherwise I’m going to have to wait until October, and I have a feeling this pain isn’t going to quiet down.
The one bright spot in yesterday’s appointment was that she definitely didn’t see any tumors or growths that shouldn’t have been there. One of my big fears was that I had cancer. Jeff and I have had a few sleepy discussions about what we’d do if one of us was terminal. Our contingency plan is to sell everything we own, ship his motorcycle, and move to Italy. We’d live out the last of our days together drinking wine, eating, and basking in the happiness that we get from that place. Do other couples have such morbid plans in place? I think after all we’ve been through, it’s not really odd that we’ve talked about it, but I’m curious about the rest of you.
And now to the ink blots. For a long time, I’ve wanted to get a tattoo to honor my grandpa and my father-an anchor specifically. They were both navy men, and so an anchor seemed fitting. Jeff was totally on board and wanted us to get them on the typical sailor spot-the top of our feet. I’ve been saving up the money from my second job and it was finally time to put our money where our feet were, so to speak. I am pretty happy with the way mine turned out-though I’ve been told I was a bit squirmy. That hurt A LOT. I may have coined a new phrase with my aunt-first words to her after were HOLY F#@$ OUCH. HFO is now going to be the standard for how bad something sucks. Anyway, here was the inspiration I used for my piece:
I didn’t like the quote or the extra heart there in the middle. And so here’s how it turned out:
Yeah, it looks a little swollen, but dang, I couldn’t have found better shoes to wear while it heals! Jeff got one too, and his looks amazing:
And it’s something we did together. Jeff handled this like a champ-I squeezed his hand the whole time I was getting mine, and by the time it was done I was clamping down on his shoulder too. That HURT. But totally worth it.