2015 In Review

This past year has been a completely different kind of year for me.  It saw a lot of turmoil, health issue’s, heart breaks and angels I never knew we’re watching over me.  I started out the year knowing I had to have surgery, and knowing before I even went in that I would be putting in my notice at work because several doctors were pretty much screaming at me to quit my high stress job and concentrate on my health or  I’d be dead in a year.  I was already terrified of my boss’s wrath and to have to a) tell him I’d need at least 6 to 8 weeks off to recover and b) knowing that after I left for the surgery after some time I’d have to put my notice in had me in a state of unbelievable stress.  If you know me then you know that I am a worker and the thought of not working was/is terrifying for me, and you’d also know that despite my hardened shell I truly do not like confrontation.  I’ve had to fight my whole life.. I’m kinda tired of fighting.

I had my first surgery of the year on Jan 23.  The doctors believed that I had a twist in my intestines and had to go manually check all 5000 feet of intestines… okay okay, I am sure it’s not 5000 feet but I know it’s a lot!  It was a very painful recovery period and for the first time ever I actually took the needed time to recover.  Before this surgery I had had 3 abdominal surgeries in less then 4 yrs and ALWAYS went back to work within a few days (totally against doctors orders.. but hey my boss wouldn’t allow the time off w/o find a reason to fire me and we needed the money) so I did what I had to do, and that was work.  After my surgery the first few weeks were not overly stressful as I was in a great deal of pain and wasn’t thinking about the mounting bills and looming reaming from my boss when I put in my notice, that was until after the second week off and I quickly discovered that asshole was not going to pay me medical leave.  He is the owner of a small business so the “rules” don’t apply the same way as if you worked for say Verizon.  He doesn’t have to pay medical leave, he doesn’t have to have a valid reason to fire anyone and he’s a spoiled little rich kid whose never had to work for anything so he doesn’t know the meaning of the word struggle.

By April my anxieties had gone through the roof.  Not only was I going out of my mind not working, watching the bills pile up but I was still having issue’s with my stomach/intestines.  My surgeon had been removed from the clinic and put in the teaching part of the hospital so I had to see a new surgeon and pretty much start over again!  I already had severe issue’s with my left arm/shoulder.  I have been fighting frozen shoulder for 3 yrs, plus a bulging disc in my neck and Ulnar Nerve Damage.  Now my left leg was having problems and my left hip was killing me.  So it was off to more doctors, more clinics, more tests.  Long story short I now have Poly Nueropathy in my left leg, no reflexes in my left ankle and arthritis in my hip plus something is going on w/ my sciatic nerve area.  I had a spinal injection to help w/ the pain but it did no good so I’ve been in physical therapy for month.  I’m scheduled for another injection in January to see if this will help.  This one isn’t a spinal injection and it’s for the muscle over the sciatic nerve to see if that’s the problem.  If it doesn’t work I’ll be going to a Spine Doctor (which is what my PT wants me to do)

By September I had to have another abdominal surgery where they removed a mass that had been bothering me for some time (I referred to it as my alien) and fixed an “indented” scar that I had.  I will say I have to giggle when I think of my first few encounters with the new surgeon.  The first time she saw me I had a cup of coffee in my hand.  Well she just laid into me saying Gastric Bypass patients aren’t supposed to be drinking coffee. After a few minutes of listening to her rant about the dangers and evils of coffee I finally said “If we aren’t supposed to have coffee, then please explain to me why it is that every time I am a guest here at this hospital I’m not only asked if I’d like a cup of coffee but it’s actually on the Bariatric menu?”  she of course could only reply with “Oh.. I didn’t realize it was on the menu”.  So after that every time I had to go see her I had to wear one of my many coffee shirts and have a coffee in my hand.  She finally gave up!  I’m a red head.. don’t argue with me.

After the second surgery in September, the spinal injection in October the holidays were here and just stressing me out beyond belief.  How was I going to do anything for my kids?  We were barely making ends meet (and even they weren’t all meeting.. some things have not been paid in months).  How was I going to be able to buy all the stuff for the Thanksgiving meal, the Christmas meal?  My kids have been denied a lot in their lives, love never being one of them but still, every parent wishes they could buy their kids things and not have to tell them no every time they walk into a store.  My son who is 18 and recently graduated High School had finally found a job and honestly did not want much for Christmas because he understood that we are struggling, but the now 13 yr old just doesn’t grasp it yet.  I know she will one day, I hope she never has to live this way when she goes off into the world and lives her life but I know that when she is out there she will be armed with the knowledge of how to stretch a dollar.

I had stressed myself to a point of fever blisters and sick to my stomach.  I was completely dreading the next 3 months.  My husband’s GI bill was running out in December and honestly that money was keeping our heads above water… All I’ve been able to focus on is Feb, Mar, Apr and all of 2016.  With me not working and his GI bill out… will we be able to make it?  Will we be living off Ramen Noodles?  Can we pay rent?  My stomach hurts pretty much daily now, my alien spot still bothers me and the injection didn’t work.. so yeah.. I’ve been pretty much bah humbugged for months.  Then out of no where and beautiful angel contacted me asking me what my kids wanted for Christmas.  She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, she wanted to help and she wanted to take some of the stress I’m under off my shoulders for awhile.  It truly was a blessing as I could finally breath a little knowing my kids would have some stuff under the tree.  Words cannot express the gratitude my heart feels for this angel.  I hope to one day be at a point in life that I can do things like this to help others.  To be a secret Santa and pay someone’s lay away off, or support a family for the holidays… one day.. maybe.

Now that Christmas is over and this long crappy year is over I find myself reflecting on what I’ve managed to make it through.  I’ve survived 2 surgeries,  multiple injections, it feels like hundreds of MRI’s and medical tests.  I know I have a very long road of recovery in front of me and pray daily that it won’t take the “Up to 2 years” to get a court date for disability.  I try to live day to day and not think about the coming months because honestly I can’t see how it will work and thinking about it all just kinda makes me shut down.

I have also thought on those I lost this year.  I’m not talking about people who have died as I’ve been lucky and not lost a loved one this year to death.. but I have lost some in other ways.  I had one person that I loved dearly.. looked forward to spending time with her and considered her a sister.  We always laughed when were together and I would do anything for her.  When we would see each other we would both light up with smiles and give each other big hugs…. we spent Thanksgiving and Christmas’s together, our families united together.. then suddenly, with no warning no nothing… it all stopped.  She no longer calls or texts.. she makes no effort to speak to me… and the last time I saw her she said there was nothing in this county to keep her here… forgetting I guess that I am in this county.  She’s moving soon, but she’s not even told me that she’s bought land and is building a house.. I am no longer in her life and I don’t know why.  My heart is broken.  I’ve cried over the loss of her friendship.  The day she told me that my son was with me.  When we got in the car he said “mom.. that was really mean.. but don’t worry.. I’ll be your friend and I’ll never leave you”…. yup.. the tears fell.

I’ve also realized that no matter what I’ve sacrificed and how much I’ve tried my step kids will never accept me, remember me or even think of me.  So I am deleting them from my life too.  I have to rid my life of stresses that are hurting me.  I’m not saying that my husband can’t have a relationship with his kids, on the contrary I want him to have the best relationship he can possibly have with them.. I just can’t be a part of it.  It just hurts to much when you know all you’ve given and given up for them and they can’t even remember to say Thank you for gifts bought, happy birthday, Merry Christmas.. nothing.. When you are just completely not thought of at all.  I wish them well.. I know they have great lives and always have because we’ve sacrificed so that they would.  May life bring them nothing but happiness and success… I just can’t fight to be a part of it.. if I’m not wanted I won’t fight to be there.

So 2016 will be the year I concentrate on myself and my family.  My kids and those that bring positive vibes and love to the table and will be severing ties with those who think it’s okay to just throw my love and friendship away..only to be used when they want something.  So if you are reading this and your first thought is “Oh no.. I hope she doesn’t delete me” then maybe you should think about why that was your first thought.  I try very hard to not upset people, I don’t delete people and I let people live their lives.. but I’ve decided that doesn’t mean I have to be people’s 2nd or 3rd choice.. I don’t have to be their “Well I can’t find anyone else so I guess she’ll do” person or the “I never talk to her but I”m going to be nosy and find out what her status is about and whats going on in her life even though I never include her in my life”…. 2016 is about me and mine.. getting my health in order.. hopefully getting my back/hip and leg fixed so I no longer have to use a cane.. and showing the world that I am worth more then most people like to believe.


Sorry this was so long… but it’s thoughts I’ve had to get out for awhile.  Life is to short to stay miserable because of other people.  I have enough in my daily life to deal with, I don’t need to live with the pain of feeling like those I loved and cherished couldn’t even manage to find time to say hi to me in months.  So to all those who’ve shown they care, know that I’m always there for you whenever you need me.. I love you all and I wish you all the very best in the coming year.





No Shame In My Game

In today’s society it seems that it’s more important to be skinny and perfect looking with a fit and fabulous body then it is to be well educated, polite, kind and giving.  It’s really sad when you think about it, but it’s our own fault because we “buy” into it by spending our money on the photo shopped pictures in the magazines, the billions we spend on diet fads and so on.

When I was 270 pounds I covered up everything.  I rarely wore shorts, always long T-Shirts that went to my thighs to make sure none of my belly was ever seen!  I didn’t even really wear flip flops because I didn’t want anyone to see my fat feet.  Almost 4 years ago I took drastic measures to get the weight off (for health reasons, not cosmetic) and had the Gastric Bypass.  After losing more then a hundred pounds I was left looking fantastic!!!  In clothes only.  Naked was a totally different story.  My thighs looked like a helium balloon that had deflated to the point that it barely had any air in it.  My boobs, which were never that great to begin with, they looked like they’d been stuck in a Mammogram machine for a couple of weeks.  Deflated and floppy!  My saving grace on that was I was never well endowed up top anyways so at least they hang to my belly button!  My belly, omg I can’t even begin to describe the total and complete disgrace I felt when looking at it!  I mean at least when I was fat it was filled out, now it looks like bread dough that has risen then punched back down!  I literally wanted to cry every time I saw myself naked and I truly did not want my husband to see my ugly gut!  One day however I decided that I would step outside my comfort zone and bought a bikini.  Of course I still bought swim shorts instead of a bikini bottom (I can’t show those thighs in public.. I just can’t).

I still despise my stomach and thighs (my boobs are better since I’ve put back on a few pounds) but I’m not going to hide it anymore.  This body is my body and it’s the only one I have.  It gets me up every morning and it keeps me going every day.  It’s housed 2 little humans for 9 months and 4 others for 8 to 10 weeks.  It has survived 8 abdominal surgeries, 4 of which have been in the last 3 1/2 years.  So I’m going to show you all what a body looks like that has gone from a size 24 to a size 6/8 and has had numerous medical procedures done on it.  Why?  So other women and men will hopefully see it and decide that they shouldn’t feel shame about what their bodies look like.  Maybe someone has a stomach that looks like mine too.  The fact is, weighing 145 pounds doesn’t make you feel any closer to “Looking like the media says you should” then weighting 245 pounds does.  What they show is not real. It’s photo shopped, it’s plastic surgery, it’s botox.. it’s anything but natural.

photo 1 (1) photo 3 (1)


You can see that I am still swollen from the last surgery that was just a few short weeks ago, but the lumpiness will never go away.  I have too many “indented” scars to ever have a flat stomach.  My belly button is anything but a button!  It now looks like a slit thanks to the gallbladder surgery back in 97.  I will tell you though, my youngest kitty loves my tummy.  She climbs up on me and starts kneading it like bread dough, curls up and goes sound to sleep on it!  And I know that if I had a baby right now, that baby would sleep comfortably on my tummy because it’s as squishy as a pillow!  This summer I will be pool side in my bikini top and swim shorts and I’m not going to worry one little bit about what anyone thinks.



I am still asking for help so please feel free to share this with everyone.  Medical bills are starting to come in and life is happening and we are down to half a pay for 4 to survive on.  Thank you for any and all help.

Yeah, my son is different. So what, different is good.

Earlier this morning my husband and I were catching up on our DVR’d show’s before he had to leave to go to work.  One of the show’s that we’ve grown fond of is Donnie loves Jenny.  We really only got involved in watching it because of course it came on right after Wahlburgers and frankly we love that show.  This mornings episode (okay technically last nights) really hit me hard, so hard in fact I almost teared up!  I had to choke back the tears when they were watching the video’s Donnie had of when he became a father and how loving the entire family was around him and his kids.  Jenny then tells Donnie that she really didn’t have much video of her son Evan because what was she going to video tape?  I can’t remember the exact wording and my husband has already deleted it and it’s not on youtube (I checked) but it was pretty much her saying what was she going to video tape, her child being different, sick even if you will.

She told Donnie about a time she took Evan to the zoo and would say “Look Evan, look at all the monkeys” but because of his illness he was more entranced by the shape the fence made and how it all connected then he was the monkeys.  Jenny talked about the guilt she felt for thinking there was something wrong with her son, and at that moment I wanted to cry.  I have felt that guilt for 17 1/2 years now, and even though to me he’s perfect in his odd ways to the world he’s an outcast.

In the next scene she and Donnie are face-timing with Jenny’s mother and they start discussing how Evan would spend hours just spinning wheels, like if he had a car he would flip it over and just sit there and spin the wheels for hours and hours.  My son, Jonathan had his own “uniqueness” to his way of playing.  He would push everything.  Literally, just push it.  That’s how he played.  For Christmas when he was 1 1/2 we bought him one of those ride on Lil Tykes 4 wheeler.  We sat him on it and showed him where to put his feet and that if he pushed the little pedal down the 4 wheeler would go.  He would never ride on it.  He would always get off and start pushing it.  We would put him back on it and show him again but he would get frustrated with us and get off and go to the back of it and start pushing it.

One of the toys my son loved most was Hot Wheels, he had hundreds of them (still does).  The other toy was Lego’s to which he did and still does have hundreds of them.  When he played with the Hot Wheels he would line them up in a single file line that spanned the length of the entire house sometimes and he would start at the beginning of the line and would push one of the cars an inch or two, then he’d go to the next car and push it the exact same distance.  He would do this until he reached the end of the line and he’d walk back to the beginning and start all over spending hours pushing these cars from one side of the room to the other only to turn them all around and do it all over again.  He was more then happy just being by himself and pushing his toys around the room or the back yard.  Sometimes becoming so excited with some new way he’d figured out how to push something that he’d have to come run and tell me all about it and beg me to come see.  So I would go and watch my baby go back into his own little reality world and push the toys and be so proud of himself for what he was doing.

On occasion I would set up play dates with other boys that were his age that we had met through little league or pre K, but those never turned out very well, and we were very seldom ever being asked back.  It wasn’t because my son was mean or misbehaved while there, but only because he kept to himself and the other “normal” kids just didn’t see the fun in playing with someone like him.  After each visit we’d usually get that awkward “Yeah, we’ll call you and set something up” and I’d know that meant no, we won’t call you.  There was one woman who was always so very nice to me and my family, always inviting us to do stuff.  Her and I are still friends today even though we live more then 1000 miles apart.

It’s very hard to be a parent of a child that most of the world see’s as “damaged” and doesn’t really want to get to know.  It’s heartbreaking to know that your kid is walking around the school’s with a bulls-eye painted on their backs and that anything they say or do is going to be ridiculed by some little shit whose parents have not done very good job’s in raising them to be tolerant of those that aren’t “normal”.  It’s even harder to remind yourself that you are the adult and smacking the shit out of some little punk who has made your baby cry or turn even more inside themselves is against the law.   The hardest thing though, is being a parent and trying very hard to not feel guilty, that maybe it was something you did while pregnant that made them this way.  Maybe I ate something that had a chemical in it, or maybe it’s that I myself is damaged and I’ve passed that onto my child.  The guilt eats you up, then you start feeling even more guilty because you feel guilt that you don’t believe your child is perfect and every parent should always feel this way.

When we decide to have kids we usually pray that they are healthy and have 10 fingers and 10 toes and 2 eyes.  We try not to picture the worst of things that can happen and when we get to hold that perfect bundle of joy in our arms for that first time, oh how the tears fall.  For me, my heart filled with a love that I never knew I was capable of feeling for anyone.  He was a huge 8 lbs 15 oz and 21 inch long direct link to my heart.  I promised to love him forever and take care of him and protect him no matter what.  I wasn’t given an instruction manual on how to raise a child who would later be diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome, ADHD (severe), ODD (again severe) and OCD traits.  I knew something was wrong by time he was 6 months old.  He stopped napping during the day, and if I forced him to sleep he would sleep for 15 mins and then would be up until 3 or 4 the next morning and he sleep until 6 and be up and going again all day.  I was exhausted and the guilt ate away at my soul.  We saw doctor after doctor, some of whom wrote papers for the AMA on how severe his disorders were.  We started medications at age 5 and that just compounded the guilt.

My son is now a senior in High School.  He is still a loner but he does have a few friends.  He’s not motivated to do much of anything in life and I feel he will have to live with us forever because he will be unable to support himself.  I hope that I am wrong but unless something changes for him right now he’s happier in his room alone and away from the harsh world we live in.

I see that the world is changing towards kids like mine, but it’s slow in coming.  Every day I read a story about how some random person stood up for someone like Jonathan and it makes me happy to know that these stories are happening.  The guilt I have will most likely always live within me, I will always wonder if it was something I did or didn’t do correctly.  I’m still learning as I’m going, no one has written that manual yet!

My son will never be the prom King, he won’t be the star quarterback for the team and he’ll never be voted most popular but so what!  How many hundreds of kids across the USA get those every year?  My son has something most kids these days don’t, an imagination.  He may go far in this world, further then anyone every thought he could.  I just know that no matter what he accomplishes in life, I will always be standing behind him, cheering him on being his #1 fan!  It’s okay to be different, in fact it’s a good thing.  Being the “same” as everyone else is boring as hell and boring is one thing me and my kids have never been accused of being!



Sometimes You Have To Ask For Help

So over the last 4 years I have gone through more then I ever thought I would or could.  I chose to have a surgery that ended up leading to 3 additional surgeries (I had no idea those would be coming).  I have been fighting to be healthy, working out constantly, eating right for the most part (I do enjoy dark chocolate) and I’ve even worked on dealing with my rape.  I thought I could do it all on my own.  I mean I have my husband and kids but this was something I had to do inside of me, they could only cheer me on and help take care of me after each surgery.

In the beginning of January I informed my employer that I would have to take off 6-8 weeks for medical leave.   I had to have yet another surgery to try to repair the damage done in the first one.  Little did I know that he would opt to not pay me during my medical leave.  I mean I knew he wouldn’t pay me full pay but I had hoped for at least 1/2 pay..something.  I mean after almost 4 yrs of loyal and damn good service you would think your boss would want to take care of you.  Well I was wrong.

A few days after I realized that my boss would not be paying me for the entire medical leave my surgeon informed me that the best option for me is to not to return to work.  There are too many complications that have to be taken care of and working 6 days a week is not giving me the time to do all of the specialist I will need to go to plus the physical therapies I will be enduring.  So I have filed for disability and sent my letter of resignation to my boss (who by the way hasn’t even bothered to let me know he’s received it or even checked on me.. yeah.. nice guy there)!

Its not likely that the disability will go through on the first try, everyone knows it can take up to years to be approved.  I’m lucky because my husband does work, but his ex wife gets 50% of his pay.  His wages are garnished so she gets paid before he does, so now my family of 4 is living in a very high cost of living state (Virginia) on very little money.  My doctor has mentioned sending me to John Hopkins for additional tests and help and that’s over 2 hours away.  With little coming in and a lot going out, my anxieties are soaring.  So my wonderful loving sister set up a GoFundMe account to try to help raise some money to help me and my family out.  So I figured why not ask for some help.  I’m adding in the link and asking for everyone to share it.  Share it on WordPress, Facebook, Twitter and whatever else social site you may be on.  Any little bit will help keep my family fed and gas in my car so I can make the appointments.  Thank you all and God Bless.. Well wishes and healing lights to all.




When you can’t see what you’re fighting.. you just have to keep fighting.

Over the last 5 years I have gone through every test known to mankind I do believe.  I can’t even begin to remember all of them, oh how I wish I would have kept a journal of every test.  I have had blood test of every kind, I’ve had 24 hour swallow study test, sleep apnea test, one of my personal favorite was the Barium Enema Test.  Oh, yes how that one was just the greatest of all.  Lets shove a balloon up your bum then inflate it with air so that you can hold the liquid in your colon while they take x-ray photos.  It’s really rather fun to be standing on the table and feeling that liquid run out of your ass and down your leg so that you have to tell the tech that it feels like you are shitting yourself.  They don’t even bat an eyelash, they just wipe it off and tell you to clinch it tighter if you can and they add some more air to the balloon so that no more comes out.  Then they tilt you up and down and left and right on the table to swish that lovely fluid in your colon around.  When it’s all done they deflate the balloon then tell you to go “excrete” all of the fluid out.  What they don’t tell you is that you’re going to sound like a barge is passing through you threatening to break out the back side of the commode, and of course the only thing that separates you and everyone one in the vicinity of the bathroom you are in is a thin wooden door that is unable to absorb any of the sounds that are expelling out of you faster than the speed of light.  At this point all I could do is sit and fart and laugh and kind of die of embarrassment.  When the nurse knocked on the door to check and see if I was doing okay, I literally wanted to start speaking Spanish “No habla ingles”, but instead I just said “FINE” really quickly hoping she’d leave and not hear the bull horn burst through again!  Yeah… memories.. some you’d like to remember forever, like your mother kissing your forehead or the first time you see your newborn baby..others.. not so much.   This is one of those but sadly it is forever burned into that part of my brain.

I have had multiple endoscopy’s, colonoscopies (only because my mother died of colon cancer and I have major intestinal issue’s) and mammograms.  I have happy healthy lumpy boobies, at least that’s what the radiologist tells me every year after I have my first scan then get the call that they’ve detected lumps and I have to go have a diagnostic mammo as soon as possible, even though I tell them when I schedule this is what will happen and why can’t we just cut out the middle man and schedule the diagnostic one first.  No… where would the fun be in that?  They like to squish my already tiny size B+’s into a nice flatten pancake.  But not an ordinary pancake, no one of those medallion ones.  Ya know, the one’s for little kids to eat.

I’ve had MRI’s, Cat-scans and some kind of nuclear test where a guy came in with breakfast on a tray for me.  Eggs with toast.  Normally that would be a nice thing, but no.. this dude was wearing the full hazmat uniform while carrying the tray.  He told me to spread the jelly on the toast and eat it all in a five minute window time frame.  Nothing like eating something that the person carrying it doesn’t want to touch.  Oh yeah, they also told me “not to touch the jelly” with my hands, or the eggs.  I really wish I could remember what that one was for.  I think it was some kind of cardiology test.

Now you may be asking yourself, why they hell have I had so many test?  I decided about 7 years ago that I was tired of being fat, diabetic and unable to do anything about it.  And before any of you start in with the “You coulda put the fork down and exercised”…umm I did!  I walked 3 miles a day 5 days a week.  I gave up soda’s and fried foods and sweets.  I drank gallons of water a day.  The harder I worked, the more weight I put on and it was maddening and depressing as hell.  So one day I decided to go to a weight loss surgery seminar.  There I met a doctor who spoke with me about my issue’s.   When I told him all of the medicines I was on (14 pills a day and 2 to 3 shots of insulin a day), and all of the exercising I was doing, the foods I was eating, the extremely hard work I was putting into losing the weight only to gain more and more he simply said “You will never lose the weight.  You’re trapped in the cycle.  The more weight you gain, the more medicine you will need.  The more medicine you take the more weight you will gain”.  So started the very long and extensive journey to the operating table for the RNY or Gastric Bypass.  Anyone who thinks this was the “cheaters” way out, you are uneducated and ignorant on the subject therefore your opinion doesn’t count.

After almost 2 full years of being put through some of the most invasive and embarrassing and disgusting test you can think of I was finally cleared for the surgery.  On May 23, 2011 I put my future in the hands of a surgeon whom I thought would make my life so much better.  For legal reasons I cannot discuss anymore of this.. but I can say it has been anything but better.

Here I am almost 4 years later and I just had my 4th invasive surgery.  This one trying like hell to determine why my body isn’t working correctly anymore.  Before I go any further I’m going to let you know if you are squeamish, or don’t like to talk about personal issue’s… then stop reading. I’m sure there’s a Calvin and Hobbes comic strip somewhere you can go chuckle at.  Now for those who can stand it… here’s what’s going on with me.  After I had the first surgery I couldn’t eat.  I lived off of chicken broth for weeks.  Then a hernia popped up.. a few months later another hernia.  Then I started realizing that I couldn’t poop anymore.  Until you’ve been “compacted” you have NO CLUE whatsoever what being constipated truly feels like.  The first time this happened to me I literally felt like I had given birth when I was done.  Now I’ve never actually given birth, I had C-Sections so I’m only guessing this is what birth feels like.   I had to “digitally” help to remove the compacted stool, which is very dangerous.  I however did not know that at the time but apparently there is a major artery located in the rectum area that if you cut it, you will bleed out before you can get to help.  I started drinking Miralax twice a day, sometimes three times a day.  Let me tell you about this shit!  It’s just that.. Shit!  Yes, it will make you go but then you get what I call the mirashits.  This means, every single time you go to the bathroom, even if you just piss… you will have to wipe and wipe and wipe until your poor ass is raw and red.  You won’t have even pooped, but yet there is poop.  It’s a miserable life to live.  You don’t want to have sex because what if you “leak” a little?  How embarrassing would that be?  I’d have to divorce my husband if that happened.  I wont even fart in front of him, and we’ve been married for almost 6 yrs!

After awhile I noticed the Miralax wasn’t even working anymore so I started using over the counter suppositories with it.  Those did nothing from the start.  So I started going back to the Gastro doctors.  Something was wrong.  No normal person would have this much trouble pooping.  So I started getting scoped and filmed.  Different medications ordered and tried and failed.  Last year one of my doctors told me that the reason the fiber wasn’t working was because of my colon.  Simply put my colon does not pull water into it anymore so it cannot push the stool down and out and fiber will just compact it.  So she put me on Lizness which worked great at first.  For a few months it was the answer to all my problems.  I would get up in the morning, take it and within the hour be in the bathroom and actually going.. and get this.. actually getting it all out!  Feeling empty inside for once.  Knowing that the rest of the day I’d be fine, no abdominal cramping, no having to go but not being able too, no wiping a million times to try to get clean but never feeling like I could.  IT WAS GLORIOUS.  The Gods of shit had finally smiled upon me…. until I did something to piss them off.  Because like all other medications, it has stopped working. I started using an enema every day.  They now have me on Lizness in the morning with Miralax in my first cup of coffee, then Miralax a second time in the day then a 3rd if necessary.  When I do go to the bathroom, unlike you I sit there for anywhere from 30 minutes to over an hour.  It’s not me just trying to push it out, it’s nonstop.  I stay so long my feet and legs go to sleep.  I’m late for work most days, even though I’ve started getting up at 4:45 or 5 am, even though I don’t have to be to work until 7:45am.  Most days I will do an enema if I have no urge to go within an hour of taking the medications, only because I can’t be caught on my way to work with the sudden urge when it hits.  And honestly, I’d rather die then have it hit me at work.

Last week I had to go see the Gastro doc’s again.  This was a follow-up from the surgery the week before because they scoped me while I was under to see if they could figure out why my reflux is still so severe to the point that I taste vomit some days (even though I haven’t vomited) and I wake up with acid bubbling in the back of my throat.  Of course the scope show’s nothing.  They never do, even though the problems keep persisting.  They also wanted to discuss the bathroom issue’s some more.  This time he did a “finger” test, yay.. dignity gone again!  Apparently I have a very diminished muscle in my rectum, the muscle that you use to push out.  He mentioned something about a possible problem with the pelvic floor muscles and that this could be the problem.  Well, kinda makes sense when you figure I’ve had 2 C-Sections, a Hysterectomy, a Gallbladder removal, 2 Hernia repairs and the RNY and now this latest surgery all in my abdomen!  So now I am being referred to yet another specialist. I’ve been told they will be doing some not so fun test and then physical therapy, although I’m not quite sure how you do physical therapy on pooping!  I guess I’ll learn that one soon enough.

So here I am,  years later and I still have absolutely no idea what is wrong with me.  I told my husband it would be easier if I had something like cancer, at least then we’d know what is wrong and could fight it.  It’s hard to fight against something that the doctors can’t figure out.  The sad thing is this is only part of what’s going on with me.  There is still the reflux issue, then the bulging disc in my neck, the frozen shoulder that has taken away at least 50% of the mobility of my arm and the Ulnar nerve damage in that arm.  My new surgeon told my husband while I was in recovery that they are discussing ( him and my pain management dr) possible shoulder replacement surgery!  They haven’t told me this yet though, I think he knows I might just lose it if he does.

I guess it’s just too much to ask to be able to poop like normal.

The Road to Healing begins with Hurting. Session 3



Session 3 went a little differently.  We didn’t really discuss the previous session very much.  You see I had had a very bad day that day and was in a bad mood. I was angry and irritated with life and wasn’t hiding it.  So this day we had just discussed the day and the few previous days and what had happened to get me so annoyed.  At the end of my session I gave her my list of core values that I had to write during the week leading up to my appointment.  I’m sure we will be discussing these things during my session on Tuesday.  Below is the list of core value’s that I wrote down.  I a sadden to say that I truly believe these things to be true and I pray that one day I can change the way I think.


1)  I am not meant to have peace.

2) It seems I am meant to fail, always.

3) I am strong.

4) I am scared of happiness.

5) 1 step forward, 2 steps back.  Every time.

6) I survive everything, only because I have no other choice.

7) I am hard to love.

8) I will never be one of “those” girls.


My homework for this past 2 weeks is an ABC worksheet.  A is to write about something that happened.  B. is “tell myself something.  C. is “I feel something”  The example given is A. I build a porch and the railing comes loose.  B. “I can never do anything right”. C. “I get angry and kick the railing.  I also feel down and sad because I can’t do anything right”

Are my thoughts above in “B” realistic?  “No.  It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, because I do SOME things right”.

What can you tell yourself on such occasions in the future? “There are soe things that I do all right.  It is not true that I “never” do anything right”


I’m still working on this one… the dead line is almost here.

The Road to Healing Begins with Hurting, session 2



    When I went back for my second session I had to read the letter I wrote out loud.  Normally I have no problem reading or speaking in front of anyone, or even large groups of people but this was harsh.  My throat was dry, my eye’s threatened to over flow and my hands shook.  My therapist asked “Why is this so hard for you to read aloud”.. my answer was simple “if I say it out loud then it’s all true and I can’t run from it anymore and I can’t hide from it anymore”.  I’ve talked about the rape before, to a few people, I’ve even blogged about it but that’s as far as it goes.  I’ve never delved into the feelings left behind, the aftermath.  Like telling a story that you’ve heard before, it’s just a story until you live it and then tell it.  Then it’s your soul.  As I read out loud all I could think of is how sad my life has been, how I’ve been betrayed and lied to to the point of believing it all.  Then I started to feel angry followed quickly by defeated.  I slumped in my chair and just sat there, listening to her talk to me about how I felt and what was going through my mind.  I wanted to crawl into that dark place in my mind that keeps me protected but she wouldn’t let that happen.  She made sure to force me to answer the questions, gently but she gave me no choice.  

   One of the things we talked about that day and previous sessions (but not in great detail) was what I refer to as Angry Shannon.  “Who is angry Shannon?”.  Well, she’s mean.  She will cut you down with words in an instant. She will rip your head off and chew up and spit it out.  She will shred your heart into a million pieces and will never bat an eye doing it.  She doesn’t cry and she gets angry when I try to cry.  I keep her pushed down and locked away.  She tries to come out every now and then but I fight her every step of the way.  “Why do you keep her locked up?”  Because if I let her out everyone will know that I’m a horrible person.  

Another one of the questions she asked was “If you had answered his question differently, do you think what happened would have still happened?”.  I thought for a moment and then answered “Yes”.  “Why” she asked.  “Because I deserved it”.  I heard myself say the words but my brain started screaming at me.  YOU DIDN’T DESERVE THIS!!!  But how do you convince yourself of that after you’ve believed for so long that you did deserve it?  I guess that’s something we will work on in future sessions. 

   We talked more and more about angry Shannon and when she would come out.  She asked very specific questions and I started to see where she was going with them.  Angry Shannon really isn’t angry, she’s protective.  She’s only ever out when my anxieties are through the roof and or my fear is rising.  She comes out to protect my body, my heart and my mind.  Looking back over the years she’s only ever come out when I needed the extra strength to get me though something.  This made me feel better.  I said something out loud I hadn’t let myself say ever, even to myself.  I really am a nice person who didn’t deserve the pain that I have endured.  That I only strike back when someone strikes at me first.  What I said to him did not warrant what he did to me and me fighting back didn’t mean I deserved more of it.  Maybe this is a step in the right direction.  Maybe one day I can look in the mirror and not see what I see now. 


    My homework for the next week was to write down some of my core values.  I thought about them every day.  I thought about how most people would say “I am nice” or “I am beautiful and smart”.. my list is completely different.  


National Sexual Assault Hotline – 1.800.656.HOPE


If you have been sexually assaulted, even if your not sure because you might have started it, or your married to your attacker and by being married you think it’s not rape.. please call them.  There is help.. and even if you are married… NO MEANS NO!