Week 1: Journal, Day Two

Start the day with narcotics for pain and anti-nausea medication and tell me just how awesome your day goes. Every four hours, more pills. Moving hurts. Not moving hurts. No matter how many pills, everything just hurts. Getting up this morning, which was about a 20 minute process, I discovered that rather than two incisions in my abdomen, I actually had three. It had just not hurt until now. Who ever thought glue was a viable option for closing incisions in a belly button didn't think it through well enough. 

This horribly cold weather isn't helping my spirits either. I hate Maine. yes, I'm here, but it definitely isn't where I want to be. I guess most people feel that way wherever they are, but I'm tired of it. I want to be somewhere moderately warm, where my hair doesn't freeze if I go outside after a shower. I'm thankful the snow has been minimal so far, but I have a gut feeling that all of a sudden, when spring is supposed to roll around, we will get an ungodly amount of shit weather to make up for the past few months. I don't look forward to that.

My mother keeps calling to make sure I'm all right. I honestly can't stand when people ask if there is anything they can do for you, when you both know full well that there isn't. I appreciate the whole 'it's the thought that counts' thing, but that's just not how it works. Somehow, half of my family (which is quite large) know about what happened, and I'm not okay with that. So, now I'm receiving second-hand condolences from various relatives having my mother pass the message along to me. Which in turn, will result in every person I know back in my hometown knowing. Small towns gossip... a lot. I see little ripples being sent out, and large waves to come crashing back on me. In all my years, I still haven't figured out why everyone needs to know everyone else's business. I'm okay with writing whatever here, mostly because I don't know any of you that are going to read it, apart from Brad.

Tomorrow the kids have the day off from school, which always makes for a hectic day. I have to schedule my follow-up appointment with the OB who did my surgery. I also need to contact the women's health center to cancel the appointment I had with them, and see if I can get back my deposit. I don't see it as a very likely possibility, but I'll try all the same. It would just be bad business to keep a deposit for a medical procedure that will no longer happen at no fault of my own. But whatever. We'll see what happens. 

That's really all I have for now. I should be working on the other posts for class, but feel a bit hazy and don't want to have to think about much of anything at the moment. Hopefully tomorrow I won't feel like I was run over by an 18 wheeler, and will have more ambition to get things done. Physical pain, depression and aggravation are a lethal mix. I would like to curl up and hibernate for the remainder of winter. 

xkcd: Positive Attitude

EDIT-

I was told that this post essentially proved me to be a bad person, who doesn't care about anyone but myself. I guess even those who are supposed to know me well, really don't. Everything I have gone through, and will go through in my life, I've made it out alive, so to speak. Good wishes, condolences, support, or the lack of all those things, doesn't change whether I get back up and brush myself off after stumbling. It isn't a lack of appreciation that makes me sour about my personal affairs being told to anyone with a willing ear. I know there are people who care about me, and want the best for me, but some things should just be left alone. If I chose to talk about them, that's my choice. It shouldn't be any one's except mine. I think what really hit a bad chord in me is that prior to my hospital visit and the fact that there was something wrong with the pregnancy leaving there no room for choice about terminating or not, the story of my situation had not been shared. This is mostly because the decision I was making was one that would be frowned upon by all those people who love and care about me. The ones who aren't supposed to judge you, but love you as you are and support you in all that you do (to an extent.. not even familial love is completely blind and forgiving). But it's true. Had the pregnancy not had problems, and I did end up terminating it, no one would have been told about it. But, the pregnancy turning out to be ectopic and a danger to my health just put a whole new spin on things and was suddenly all right to spread the news. Am I the only one who sees something wrong here? From where I'm sitting, it sure feels like I am. Honestly, I just don't care. I am going through this alone, and while the gesture is nice, no ones best wishes for me is going to make it easier. A lot of the time, I think those generic, stock responses of sorry or feel better are just reflex. My uncle told my grandmother to tell my mother to tell me he hopes I am doing okay. Would that make you feel better? If so, maybe there is something wrong with me, and I'm willing to accept that. But this sort of thing being passed down through the grapevine is ridiculous in my opinion. The very few people who were aware of all that has gone over the past weeks, I had talked with them. Because they were the ones I turned to for support and guidance. And, right now, all I want and truly feel that I need is Brad to be by my side going through this with me. This was ours. No one else's. And I feel that he is the only one who truly can help me get past all of this.  I know this, among other things, has taken a toll on him as well, which is why I thought we could get through it together. We are supposed to be each others support and comfort, aren't we? I guess we kind of suck at that though. I like to think of it as something that can be improved, rather than something that is broken beyond all hope. Regardless, I feel alone and it isn't a shiny, happy place to be.