Today I had my post operation appointment. It's not quite been a month since my surgery but just about and I was a tad worried when I saw the evil-but-necessary pelvic exam equipment sitting out on the counter. I had read on the Hystersister's site that doctors usually do that exam at 6 weeks. You know because the lovely post-op paper of what you can and can't do in certain amounts of time says no sex until 6-8 weeks have passed. But nope, my doctor wanted to make sure everything was healing properly. I am healing well but I am very sore from her exam despite how gentle she was. Tylenol is putting a dent in it though.
The good news is, I don't ever have to have another exam like that again, unless I have pain for some reason, and I don't have to take hormones. My doctor also gave me the official pathology report. I had lots of cysts but everything was benign. So I am good to go and can start tackling other issues like my back, my weight, the firbromyalgia, and depression and anxiety.
Moving on. My friend Chris took me to my appointment this morning and after we came back to my house for lunch, to watch a movie (which we both fell asleep during) and to look at a monthly subscription box she'd ordered: Hunt a killer. The first box introduces you to you "pen pal/friend" and you are supposed to discover the mystery behind this person and what they may or may not have done. We spread it out on my kitchen table and read everything, looked at the clues sent to us, and then I started by making lists of things like keywords, how many times the 'penpal' said certain things, references that were made and so on. We came up with a couple of theories and then put stuff away. We have a couple of things we want to research later. The next box is supposed to build on the first and so on and so forth. It is really neat.
I have been having some really heavy, intense bursts of depression lately. I will be discussing it with my therapist this weekend, of course. Some of the things I have been struggling with are really personal and on top of that there has been an underlying tension in the house along with an overwhelming sense of guilt that is starting to suffocate me and piss me off. I need to address these things so I can move on.
I talked to my Dad tonight. He had to travel for some of his work and stopped at all the roadside landmarks when he had five hours to kill. He learned quite a bit about Liberal and Ashland, Kansas, and imparted that information on to me. I, of course, went to go look at pictures of these places so I could see what he'd seen. It was fun.
For some reason my Grandpa seems to be thinking about me an awful lot lately. He wants to see me publish something before he dies. Since he is 88 years old and has Alzheimer's, I guess I had better get to work. He apparently wanted to know what had happened, that I had such potential, and I am going to fucking cry because while I've always known that my Grandpa loves me and misses me, I didn't realize that he'd ever paid that much attention to anything I was doing. I mean he took me fishing and showed me how to do some things, took me to museums and traveling and taught me how to do some gardening, ect... But, I was kind of more my Grandma's helper. Grandma wanted to teach me house wife stuff and sewing, piano, and so on.
Anyway, no pressure right? Because we wouldn't want to, you know, add a sense of time running out to someone has horrible anxiety and already has that sense to begin with plus very high expectations of herself. It's fine. No, I probably won't have anything published by the time he forgets that he said that or me or he passes, but it's a nice goal to work toward.