Whirligig

Jen has got me thinking about memory loss. Or at least what I remember about things that I am no longer sure really happened.

For the past 5 years, I have taken high dosage birth control pills to treat my endometriosis. It was hell. I can remember that much. The pills helped my problem somewhat... and that little somewhat was better than anything that I ever had before, so I stuck with it. Through it all. The heavy bleeding for 30 days at a time. The no bleeding for 7 months. The minor cramping and the major ones. The medication changes every 6 months, as my body caught on to my little trick. The fights with the insurance company about which medicines I should have and why I shouldn't have to pay out of pocket for them. I remember that every once in a while I would feel good. And it was always weird when it happened. It's like when you have a bad pain that suddenly goes away. You can appreciate how good you feel and you actually feel better than you should... the whole world looks lovely. But as soon as the pain sets in again, you can't for the life of you remember what the good felt like.

That was my daily life.

After so many years and so many treatments, I have finally won the right to have an 'exploratory' surgery. Yay for me. Woo. Hoo. I. Can. Barely. Contain. My. Excitement. I think my insurance company is grudgingly agreeing, because they think I might shut up and go away. Or die on the operating table. Maybe a freak tornado will rip through California and destroy the hospital and that little whiny beeyotch. I'm sure my face - or at least my hundreds of complaint letters - are tacked on a dart board somewhere. No one at Blue Cross likes me. At all.

But after so much fighting and suffering and everything else... I just can't do it anymore. The hormones that I was taking to balance my innards were wrecking my brain. I see a neurologist regularly. The migraines are crippling me, so I decided to throw away the birth control pills and give my body a break. So here I am now. I cry at commercials. I get angry for dumb reasons. I want a baby or a puppy or even a new sock monkey so bad that I just want to lay on the floor and erupt into a temper tantrum. My body hates me. My brain doesn't cooperate. It moves slow and makes me say the wrong words sometimes. I forget things easily. My joints don't like me, either. My wrists ache, my back hurts. I feel like I'm 100. The years of pills have messed with my system so much, that my doctor advises against getting pregnant for at least a year... let the toxins flush and cobwebs get dusted, etc. Sigh. It just makes my baby fever worse.

I'd at least feel better if I had a pug. :-D