Thursday, 02 November 1999
One year post uterine artery embolization. A year ago today I was checking in to UCLA and a nervous wreck. No voice. Sick from chronic bronchitis and sinusitis. And huge. Fibroid uteri distending my abdomen unbelievably. I was a different person. Entirely. It's seems so distant and strange to me these days. Was that really me? Was I really suicidal? Had I truly become a turtle person barely surviving through each day and retreating at a moment's scare or turn of exhaustion? It's hard for me to imagine that person that I was only one short year ago today.
The funny thing is that other people say the same thing to me. They too barely recall who I was or what I was like only a year ago. Fibroids are all-consuming creatures that eat a woman alive from the inside out. Impacting both the body and a woman's physicality but also the mind and her thought processes and personality. The hormones driving the car are crucial too. Cheap gas won't get you very far and causes a lot of sputtering along the way...now I know the same can be said for treatment options, doctors, medical facilities -- the whole enchilada. I'm glad I didn't "settle" for hysterectomy. Very glad.
Although today was my one year post UFE mark, I have been unable to schedule timely medical appointments for my follow-up. Broder is swamped and he's the gyn driving these days. So, I'll see him in early December and have an ultrasound then.
NOTE: For the 1 year update table, read the December 9, 1999 report.
Tuesday, 16 November 1999
Reviewing this past year's events is something I often do these days. When I write letters to my husband or children they are no longer "goodbye" letters -- but love letters from my heart expressing deep, sincere appreciation of my family members' presence in my life. Good or bad, up or down, in health and in sickness, my husband is still there. Holding me and caring about me.
My dearest love,
There are times when I take a deep breath of air into my chest and breathe in only pictures. Vivid. Bright images of times that have come and gone in our lives together. It startles me. From head to toe the memories startle me. Not because of the images. Because of the all-consuming, overwhelming warmth that comes with the memories. A feeling of knowing. So strong. So sure. Simply knowing.
The smell of the forest is never just that anymore. It's memories of a rope climb and teaching our daughter to overcome her fears. Our daughter. Our. Yours and mine. Together.
The smell of a freshly mowed lawn is never just that anymore. It's memories of you teaching Alex, our son, how to mow a lawn. Our son.
The smell of fresh rain is never just that anymore. It's memories of you running in the park with Brian, our youngest child, and holding on to him ever so tight to get him out of the rain. Laughing. Enjoying it. With our son, our youngest child.
The smell of the ocean is never just that anymore. It's visions of the two of us chasing our children into the waves and jumping. Joyously. Together as a family on a Sunday afternoon. Simply enjoying our time together. Simply enjoying the waves. Simply enjoying being. For hours and hours.
I breathe in air and with it comes a tidal wave of warmth, memories, love. And a feeling of knowing. So strong. So Sure. It overwhelms me. I love you. I always will. I simply breathe in, and my entire body knows it.
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