“Grief is itself a medicine. ~William Cowper, Charity”
Sometimes, I just need to cry. I think I probably cry more than anyone I know personally. I’m absolutely sure that my neighbors hate it. I’ve learned over the years, that even with discussing my feelings and thoughts or journaling that I still have a build up of emotion. Crying is the final release, it’s cathartic.
Yesterday, I was a little scared. I refused any narcotic for my dilation and curettage with hysteroscopy because twilight sleep scares me. I’ve been sedated before, and I didn’t like how I felt when I woke. Heck, I didn’t even like the way I felt counting down while it was being administered. Anesthesia is necessary sometimes, I just don’t care for it. The anesthesiologist gave me medicine equivalent to anti-anxiety drug. I don’t remember the name. It made me drowsy but not asleep, or sick. She also gave me a nausea medicine.
It was a little painful at times, and today I still ache but I’m OK. There has been a lot of stress and worry build up in our household with this day surgery hanging over our heads. It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it turned out to be. I know I had fibroids (they were hopefully removed yesterday) and I know I have other unique issues but, we must wait to hear about the lab results and see the photos in October. I have a good support person who loves me, thankfully.
I can’t take baths or have intercouse for two weeks, and that also makes me want to cry. Oh, such the drama Queen! Here’s to healthy uteruses and ball sacs my friends!