Well, hello there… I’m back.
Just thought you should know.
Yeah… so, I’m feeling a bit awkward talking to you today. I wrote my last post while I was on pain medication after having my ectopic surgery and I just so happened to include details about the process that I kind of wish I hadn’t. If I had been completely coherent I might have omitted the whole part about my anus hurting. Yep. Yep, that would have been a good part to leave out. Some details are better left out.
Then again… I might have just saved some woman’s life out there by sharing my tale of how I went to the doctor for butthole problems and stomach cramps. Only to find out I didn’t have butthole problems at all, just a scary case of “your fallopian tube is on the verge of exploding”. So, I guess I can bare the humiliation if I’ve saved a life.
(Fun fact: I’m not sure I’ve actually used the word butthole since I was a kid while fighting over a turn with a Nintendo controller. I’m pretty sure it was my insult of choice back in the day which is a really gross way of insulting someone if you think about it.)
Needless to say, this whole ectopic pregnancy thing completely threw me off guard. For the first week after the surgery I was a zombie, a hormonal zombie who had just lost a baby she didn’t know she wanted until it was taken away from her. I would be fine one minute and a complete wreck the next. I slept a lot… and I cried a lot. Just when I would think I was starting to feel better and get my energy back I would be hit with another wave of exhaustion. I was tired of being tired and tired of being sad. I’m not one for mourning. I tend to want to just get over things without giving myself the time to fully process them. In this case there was nothing I could have done. What good did it do me to cry about it?
It doesn’t help that my body is in the midst of an identity crisis. My aches and pains from the surgery are gone but I still have pregnancy symptoms (boobs hurting, smells, fatigue, mood swings). In fact, I feel like they have intensified lately which is really freaking me out. Maybe it’s like having a phantom pain when you amputate something. My brain just can’t wrap itself around the loss of something that was a part of me. I just went out to dinner with my family tonight and I looked down to discover that everything that I had aimed at my mouth was sitting on my newly engorged chest. I’m pretty sure my boobs are convinced that they are still pregnant. I wish it would just go away because it’s really messing with my head.
Other than that I’m feeling much better. I thought you should know since I wrote that weird drug induced post about
my anus the surgery and all. Now, just do me a favor and cross your fingers that I don’t do something drastic like drown in a bag of Cheetos while I sort out my feelings on phantom pregnancy symptoms. M’kay? That would be great and if you do that I’ll promise to write blog posts with more appropriate titles.