Monday, July 23. We're almost home. It's Monday morning, and I have Geronimo with me. I felt OK when we left the marina, I made sure I had something to eat, and all was well.
The cramp got me in Freeport. In traffic, in road construction. I drive blindly, by instinct, just wanting to get home. No place to pull off, no place to get help. Just keep driving, keep breathing. Keep from screaming. Just get home.
As we pass the State Police office, I dither. Should I pull over, ask them to call Dayton to come pick up Geronimo and have them call an ambulance to take me to the hospital? But no, I keep going, maybe it's getting better. Maybe it's starting to relax.
Maybe I'm just wishing.
I get home, and drag myself up the stairs. "Geronimo!" Dayton calls as the pup dances into his office. I walk into mine, drop my purse, and stand, drooping, defeated. Dayton looks my way. "Are you OK?" He helps me to bed, and I fall to the mattress, sobbing wildly. What do you do with such pain? I've gone downhill so quickly, I've lost 5 pounds in the past week, and I feel like an old lady.
Finally the pain ebbs, and I relax out from my fetal position. Dayton puts the pup in bed with me, and I pull up the covers. Biopsy tomorrow. It can't possibly be more painful than this. I sleep the rest of the afternoon. This is becoming a habit.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Nightmare Weekend
Saturday & Sunday, July 21 & 22: It must have been the Ultrasound. I was doing just fine until then. But now the cramps are back, and worse then before. Every 3-4 hours I'm in pain. Severe pain. Saturday morning Dayton finds me in tears, unable to stand up long enough to take Geronimo for his morning walk. The cramps strike without warning. Bathroom break? Cramp time. Walking? Cramp time. Grocery shopping? Do it fast before the cramp gets you.
And the nights are worse. I'm up every few hours, pacing, panting, moaning. I try not to wake Dayton up, but sometimes he hears the whimpering. He's finally starting to realize that this is serious. I'm not just being a wimp, I'm in real trouble. And all he can do is fetch me the Ibuprofin, and try to rub my back. Hard to do when I'm writhing.
I was going to head home Sunday evening, but I'm exhausted by the constant assaults. I'll go home in the morning.
And the nights are worse. I'm up every few hours, pacing, panting, moaning. I try not to wake Dayton up, but sometimes he hears the whimpering. He's finally starting to realize that this is serious. I'm not just being a wimp, I'm in real trouble. And all he can do is fetch me the Ibuprofin, and try to rub my back. Hard to do when I'm writhing.
I was going to head home Sunday evening, but I'm exhausted by the constant assaults. I'll go home in the morning.
Ultrasound
Friday, July 20: Nobody warned me about the ultrasound. I had one about 10 years ago. It was simple, I laid down on a table and the technician passed a control over my belly. Nothing to it.
Not this time. This was what they call a "transvaginal" ultrasound. It's done on the inside. Off with the clothes, back up on the table, feet up, and this thing slid inside me. It didn't hurt, but it was NOT comfortable. "You can watch the screen" said the friendly technician, and I did watch the gray, shadowy pictures. And all the flashing numbers. And all the times she used the computer to mark a section. Were those bad patches? I was too scared to ask. And I could feel a cramp building up. Oh, please, get this thing out of me before I wind up rolling up in agony!
Karen had told me that they would get her the results the following week, and she would call me. That's not what happened. The technician said, "you can get dressed now, and I'll be right back." I waited, and after a while she came back and announced, "Dr. wants to see you."
Shit. It's a bad sign when the doc wants to see you immediately after a test. And I didn't even catch the Doc's name, I know it isn't Karen because this is her day off. Whatever is wrong, it's too important for them to wait. I am so screwed.
A nurse comes in, and takes me to another room, where she checks my blood pressure. It's been high every time they've taken it so far and I'm sure it must be sky high now. She reviews my medical history - again. Then I'm taken to another room - how many rooms do they have in this clinic???
Finally the Doctor walks in. And of course, he's a man. Damn- I don't WANT a man doctor!!!! Haven't I told them enough???
But he's a kind man, with warm eyes. And as he talks, I find myself relaxing, and trusting him. "Most of my patients call me Dr. B, because my last name is so hard to pronounce. I called Karen, and asked if it would be OK if I talked with you." He gets me calm, and then explains what they found. And he keeps emphasizing that it is normal - for a woman my age.
"The lining of the uterus has thickened. It happens to a lot of women. There is an indication that a polyp has formed in the lining. We will need to take it out to stop your pain. It's a very simple procedure, same day surgery. I do it several times every week, so I have a lot of experience with this. What we will do is schedule you for an endometrial biopsy next week to check the tissues, and then we'll set up the surgery."
Biopsy? Surgery?? OK, I'm keeping calm on the outside, but inside I'm shaking. Hey, the pain has stopped, maybe we don't have to go through with this!
I tell him about the insurance dilemma, that I have Blue Cross but his hospital is not an approved provider. He nods, and tells me that the hospital has worked out an agreement with their BC patients. They will "forgive" the percentage that Blue Cross will penalize us for using an out of network provider. Before I leave, I have the phone number for the hospital office that handles this, so I can "set my mind at rest."
I make the appointment for the biopsy, and I flee town. It's time to spend a peaceful weekend on the boat.
Not this time. This was what they call a "transvaginal" ultrasound. It's done on the inside. Off with the clothes, back up on the table, feet up, and this thing slid inside me. It didn't hurt, but it was NOT comfortable. "You can watch the screen" said the friendly technician, and I did watch the gray, shadowy pictures. And all the flashing numbers. And all the times she used the computer to mark a section. Were those bad patches? I was too scared to ask. And I could feel a cramp building up. Oh, please, get this thing out of me before I wind up rolling up in agony!
Karen had told me that they would get her the results the following week, and she would call me. That's not what happened. The technician said, "you can get dressed now, and I'll be right back." I waited, and after a while she came back and announced, "Dr. wants to see you."
Shit. It's a bad sign when the doc wants to see you immediately after a test. And I didn't even catch the Doc's name, I know it isn't Karen because this is her day off. Whatever is wrong, it's too important for them to wait. I am so screwed.
A nurse comes in, and takes me to another room, where she checks my blood pressure. It's been high every time they've taken it so far and I'm sure it must be sky high now. She reviews my medical history - again. Then I'm taken to another room - how many rooms do they have in this clinic???
Finally the Doctor walks in. And of course, he's a man. Damn- I don't WANT a man doctor!!!! Haven't I told them enough???
But he's a kind man, with warm eyes. And as he talks, I find myself relaxing, and trusting him. "Most of my patients call me Dr. B, because my last name is so hard to pronounce. I called Karen, and asked if it would be OK if I talked with you." He gets me calm, and then explains what they found. And he keeps emphasizing that it is normal - for a woman my age.
"The lining of the uterus has thickened. It happens to a lot of women. There is an indication that a polyp has formed in the lining. We will need to take it out to stop your pain. It's a very simple procedure, same day surgery. I do it several times every week, so I have a lot of experience with this. What we will do is schedule you for an endometrial biopsy next week to check the tissues, and then we'll set up the surgery."
Biopsy? Surgery?? OK, I'm keeping calm on the outside, but inside I'm shaking. Hey, the pain has stopped, maybe we don't have to go through with this!
I tell him about the insurance dilemma, that I have Blue Cross but his hospital is not an approved provider. He nods, and tells me that the hospital has worked out an agreement with their BC patients. They will "forgive" the percentage that Blue Cross will penalize us for using an out of network provider. Before I leave, I have the phone number for the hospital office that handles this, so I can "set my mind at rest."
I make the appointment for the biopsy, and I flee town. It's time to spend a peaceful weekend on the boat.
A Good Week
Sunday, July 15: No cramps!
Monday, July 16: No cramps!
Tuesday, July 17: No cramps! And this is the day of my pap test. At the clinic, Karen asks how I've been feeling since Saturday. "Great! I think something was out of place, and you pushed it back in." She laughs, and says "Well, I hope I don't dislodge it today." We bantering and laughing as she does the full gyn exam this time. Breasts are fine, pelvic again looks fine, and the slides are done for the pap. There's a bit of rumbling in my abdomen, and she says that's normal - for a woman my age, of course.
Wednesday, July 18: No cramps!
Thursday, July 19: No cramps!
Maybe it was just a virus. Or some other physically oddity that is, as they say, "Normal for a woman my age."
Monday, July 16: No cramps!
Tuesday, July 17: No cramps! And this is the day of my pap test. At the clinic, Karen asks how I've been feeling since Saturday. "Great! I think something was out of place, and you pushed it back in." She laughs, and says "Well, I hope I don't dislodge it today." We bantering and laughing as she does the full gyn exam this time. Breasts are fine, pelvic again looks fine, and the slides are done for the pap. There's a bit of rumbling in my abdomen, and she says that's normal - for a woman my age, of course.
Wednesday, July 18: No cramps!
Thursday, July 19: No cramps!
Maybe it was just a virus. Or some other physically oddity that is, as they say, "Normal for a woman my age."
The Kindness of Medical Personnel
Saturday, July 14: Just the normal bathroom cramp this morning, and it's not bad. Maybe I'm getting better. I take Geronimo for his morning walk, then jump in the shower. A veritable mother of a cramp grabs hold of me midway through the shampoo. If the ones I'd been having before were 5 or 6 on a scale of 10, this one was a 7, easy. Tears leaking from my eyes, I crawl out, dripping, and stretch out on the bed until the pain passes, then get dressed for my appointment. I admit - I'm scared.
She isn't a doctor after all. She is a certified nurse/midwife. Kindness must be her middle name. She reviews the symptoms with me, and shakes her head in sympathy. "Let me take a look." She does a pelvic exam, and her movements are smooth. "Everything seems normal," she says. "We'll do a few more test next week after your period is finished. But since you are peri-menopausal, this might just be normal for a woman your age." She advises me to keep taking the Ibuprofin as needed. We schedule a pap test and ultrasound the following week, and I'm out the door.
I go back home and pick up Geronimo, pack for the weekend on the boat, and head out. About 20 minutes into the 2 hour trip, the cramp starts inching back. And I feel bruised inside from the poking of the pelvic exam. It wasn't bad while she was doing it, but now my insides are all a jumble. We pull off the highway for a few moments, then I turn the car around and head home. Dayton is disappointed when I call him. "So you're not coming out at all?" "No," I say in a voice that is way too shakey. "I'm afraid to drive."
Off the phone, Geronimo and I curl up together in bed, and I sleep for 5 hours. Blessed sleep, cramp-free.
She isn't a doctor after all. She is a certified nurse/midwife. Kindness must be her middle name. She reviews the symptoms with me, and shakes her head in sympathy. "Let me take a look." She does a pelvic exam, and her movements are smooth. "Everything seems normal," she says. "We'll do a few more test next week after your period is finished. But since you are peri-menopausal, this might just be normal for a woman your age." She advises me to keep taking the Ibuprofin as needed. We schedule a pap test and ultrasound the following week, and I'm out the door.
I go back home and pick up Geronimo, pack for the weekend on the boat, and head out. About 20 minutes into the 2 hour trip, the cramp starts inching back. And I feel bruised inside from the poking of the pelvic exam. It wasn't bad while she was doing it, but now my insides are all a jumble. We pull off the highway for a few moments, then I turn the car around and head home. Dayton is disappointed when I call him. "So you're not coming out at all?" "No," I say in a voice that is way too shakey. "I'm afraid to drive."
Off the phone, Geronimo and I curl up together in bed, and I sleep for 5 hours. Blessed sleep, cramp-free.
Moving into the Health System
Friday, July 13: The Immediate Care Center leaves a message on my cell phone. "All of your labwork is within normal limits. Please follow up with your regular physician."
If I HAD a regular physician, I probably could have bypassed this whole mess!
I call Linda and hear how wonderful her Fringe performance was at National. How I wish I could have been there to see her succeed in person. She's so good, they really should feature her at the National Festival soon.
Then I start googling up the doctor that I'm seeing in the morning. And I hit a wall. There is no doctor by that name in town. There is a nurse/midwife by that name. And she is at the clinic that is linked to the one hospital in town that is not a Blue Cross/Blue Shield Provider.
Drat! I TOLD them at Immediate Care that I wanted to stay with the Swedes network. And they've assigned me out to somebody else. What do I do now? I don't want to call around myself, begging for an appointment. So I call her office number, and ask. Yes, they say, she is on staff here. Yes, we are a Blue Cross provider here in the clinic. Yes, you'll be fine.
So I cross my fingers and hope for the best. And take more Ibuprofin for the cramps. They still won't go away. Dayton is still at the boat, so it doesn't matter if I moan a teeny bit when the cramps hit during the night.
If I HAD a regular physician, I probably could have bypassed this whole mess!
I call Linda and hear how wonderful her Fringe performance was at National. How I wish I could have been there to see her succeed in person. She's so good, they really should feature her at the National Festival soon.
Then I start googling up the doctor that I'm seeing in the morning. And I hit a wall. There is no doctor by that name in town. There is a nurse/midwife by that name. And she is at the clinic that is linked to the one hospital in town that is not a Blue Cross/Blue Shield Provider.
Drat! I TOLD them at Immediate Care that I wanted to stay with the Swedes network. And they've assigned me out to somebody else. What do I do now? I don't want to call around myself, begging for an appointment. So I call her office number, and ask. Yes, they say, she is on staff here. Yes, we are a Blue Cross provider here in the clinic. Yes, you'll be fine.
So I cross my fingers and hope for the best. And take more Ibuprofin for the cramps. They still won't go away. Dayton is still at the boat, so it doesn't matter if I moan a teeny bit when the cramps hit during the night.
Monday, July 30, 2007
How it began
Sunday, July 1st. It's a beautiful day. We're out on our boat, anchored in one of the lovely, lonely sloughs of the Mississippi River. It's afternoon, and we are lazing about in the master stateroom, recommitting ourselves to our marriage. Geronimo is curled up on Dayton's pillow snoring away, ignoring our sighs of pleasure.
But then pleasure turns to pain, and the cramp has me in its grip. I roll away and curl up in anguish. "What's wrong?" he asks, and I gasp, "just a cramp, would you bring me an Advil?" 10 minutes later, I feel fine.
Sunday, July 8, one week later. Again it's afternoon, and we're still on the boat. It's a hot, steamy day. I'm feeling guilty - it's my Mom's birthday, and I really should drive to her house and take her out for dinner. But she's three hours away, and she was here with us for the mid-week holiday celebration, and I'm tired. And again we slide into bed for that lovely Sunday cuddle.
And the cramp returns. This time he fetches the Advil without request, and as I gulp some water, he says, "maybe you should see a doctor."
Yeah, I agree. Something's wrong. But I hate doctors, avoid them at all costs. I'm young - 47 is still young. And I'm healthy and strong. It's probably just gas.
Monday, July 9. We're home, and the cramp is back. No lovemaking today to trigger it, just a trip to the bathroom, and I'm doubled over. What is this, I wonder? Is it menopause coming in like a March lion? I do some google searching, and learn that pre-menopausal women are subject to gas. Great, I'll just cut back on starchy foods and that will be fine.
Tuesday, July 10. Cramp. Cramp. Luckily not during my afternoon show.
Wednesday, July 11. Cramp. Cramp. Cramp. Luckily not during my morning show - I got up extra early to avoid them, since they like to attack during that first bathroom visit.
Thursday, July 12. Dayton leaves at 7 am for business meetings and the boat. He gives me a quick kiss, not noticing how hard I'm gripping the kitchen counter. I can hardly say goodbye, the cramp is so severe. It has to go away, I'm supposed to drive to St. Louis today for the National Storytelling Conference. I'm supposed to help my friend Linda set up for her Fringe show tonight. I'm supposed to wear my sparkly red shirt help pour the wine.
Instead, by 10:00 I'm on the phone, looking for a doctor. I want a woman, I had a male doctor growing up and I hated him. I want someone associated with Swedes hospital, because when Dayton had his last knee surgery we went there, and we liked the staff - plus the other hospital in town is no longer a Blue Cross provider. There are 3 women doctors available, the earliest appointment is for a week from today. When I explain that I haven't seen a doc since 1999, the nurse decides I have to come in for full physical, and reschedules me for August 10th! I mention the cramps, and she says, "You should go to the Immediate Care Clinic."
Drat. I wanted to avoid that. It's too much like an Emergency Room. That's for people in car crashes and with bullet wounds and who are dying. Not pre-menopausal women with cramps. Severe cramps, the kind that take my breath away. I gather up my courage, and hie myself to the clinic.
The staff is kind, although I wish the receptionist wouldn't make me go into such detail about my "condition" in the open waiting room. A nurse leads me to a small room and takes my history and blood pressure. The doctor walks in - a man. He shakes my hand, hears that I'm having "pelvic pain," (I can't get him to agree it's just cramps) and decides that I should see a woman doctor. Hooray!!!
Dr. S comes and reviews my history - again. "It could be a lot of things, endometriosis, internal bleeding, or then again, you're pre-menopausal, so it might just be normal for a woman of your age." She tells me that I should probably see a gynocologist ASAP, and they have nobody on staff who is qualified. For the next hour I sit and wait as her nurse calls every gyn. in the city, trying to find an appointment. They take a vial of blood, and a urine sample - to check for pregnancy, although I assure them that I am not pregnant. (I'm right, by the way, I'm not.)
Finally Dr. S comes back beaming. "We have an appointment for you on Saturday morning." She gives me the name and phone number of the next doctor, and I'm out the door.
I don't make it to St. Louis, and the cramps haunt me most of the night.
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