Bumpety bump

Yesterday I had my seroma aspirated again.  Usually I don't feel the needle, not more than a pinch.  This time it HURT.  My belly is one massive black bruise, very painful.  Clothing hurts.  Lying down in any position hurts. Sitting hurts.  Standing, yes, you guessed it, hurts. ARGH.

Random nerve spikes in my groin area are doing nothing good for my peace of mind.

Doc is going to put in a drain, my surgery is scheduled for the 25th.  I could have selected this Friday, but not certain Larry will be home.

Worst thing is I have no idea how well the drain will work, what it entails (do I have to have it hooked to a bag? Do I drain that? Change it?), how long it will take.  And so much for water aerobics.  I need to talk to the gym about putting my membership on hiatus.

I do feel this is needed, but I'm not very happy.  Not at all.

One Small Thing

I've figured out I have to work through the low, slow feelings in increments.  That means this blog will be downright dreary until I find the uphill path.

What little thing set me off today?  Two little things, perhaps.  I asked if I could simply donate to E-11.  Sure.  Give it to a board member in person.  Sounds reasonable.  Except I don't live in SLC.  I feel like a failure because I can't go where I want when I want.  Ride the bus and train to SLC?  Right, right, right.

Second, the color piece on the news is visiting a senior day care center.  They're singing If You're Happy and You Know It.  They're bowling with plastic balls and pins.  I am terrified.

Most of the burner events are held on weekends, in Salt Lake.  I have no way to get down there, and no one commutes who can take me with them.  I don't want to do stuff like spend the night sleeping on couches or the floor, did that, over that.  When Larry's schedule does coincide with events and parties, he's only go the one day off, and has to hit the road early the next day.  Driving an hour to a party, not drinking, then coming back early enough to get some decent sleep?  Not really happening when all the errands, chores, and simply dinking with stuff around the house and yard need to be done too.

We love seeing our friends, but I wonder if I would be missed at all if we quit burning locally.  At one time, I could say emphatically, yes! Now I wonder if anyone remembers who Larry and I are, and what we do.  Time and distance and absence erode away our experiences and opportunities.

So now I feel old and useless because I can't drive.  Learn to drive you say?  Were it only that simple.  I'm terrified to even move the vehicles in the driveway back and forth.  Cold sweats, pounding heart, and my hands shake.  And you want me to manipulate a pile of steel on the streets?

Yes, I am going to the gym today.  To my water aerobic arthritic old person class.

I am not that old, I shouldn't be mouldering in a corner like this.  Something is not right.  Oh yeah, me.  

Mayday

Ah, my poor neglected blog.  I abuse you with whining.

The progress on the weight front is stalled.  I still check into Sparkpeople, but I have not logged my food intake since before we went to Vermont in April. My weight loss was up to ten pounds, but has settled back at seven pounds.  At least the loss I've made is holding steady.  If I keep grazing on snacks, it will not.  I exercise very little these days, I simply am in pain all the time.  Low level pain, but it saps my energy, and hence my motivation to move.  Immobility creates low mood and stiffness, so I know I need to get up and do something, anything.  I need to get out.  I need people, face to face.  It isn't happening.  

Why pain?  This seroma sitting on my new abdominal mesh pulls and pinches constantly.  Hanging down, it jounces when I do water aerobics, walk, or stand.  I can't even lie on my tummy or back.  Sex is a chore of finding least painful positions.  The size of a grapefruit, the seroma sits just under the skin.  The surgeon aspirates it a couple times a month, but it yields very little fluid.  The needle aspiration doesn't hurt, but it isn't pleasant and results in ugly bruising.  More surgery would only bring more risk and complications.  This alien bump is draining my joy for life, and my motivation to do even the most basic chores.  

Oh yes, and then there's perimenopause.  Which means I haven't stopped my periods, but I have begun some of the less fun stages.  Crap.

I'm afraid if I talk to a doctor about my mood and mood swings, I'd be given drugs.  I don't think this general malaise is strictly brain chemicals, I can pinpoint what I'd doing to create my own personal hell.  I don't want pills to dig me out of it.  I've had them, I hate them. Too easy to lean on them and not feel human.  How depressed is too depressed?  Some? Any?  None?  Can't I just feel sad and frustrated with my current situation?  Because this won't last, it can't last.  I know there is always a light at the end of any tunnel.  I just am seriously annoyed with the cobwebs and trudging toward my happy place.