Content Note: Surgery, Swearing, Depression, Cancer, Pet Illness
Today I learned that when your surgical doctor says he's "only going to add a little bit more metal" into your spine when you're already vociferously on record as not wanting any more metal in your spine, your surgical doctor is full of shit.
Here is what my spine now looks like:
One of those three rods was there prior to my surgery. The other two are new. But it's not very much metal because these new ones are thinner!
When asked how often these things malfunction -- because I don't want to go through this godawful surgery ever again -- the physician airily said the failure rate was "1 in 1,000" patients. Well that's reassuring! (Here's hoping the car accidents get me first!)
In other news, my Pain Group decided to treat me as a "new patient" and gave me a sheaf of paperwork to fill out, most of it duplicated multiple times across the many forms, and with "pain" spelled as "pan" and "doesn't vary much" spelled as "doesn't very much". And even though my employer has access to all my medical records -- which I had to give them as part of my disability-leave process (please don't ask, it's complicated, just take my word for it) -- the new-patient intake form asked such nice questions as "Do you like your job?" and "Would you go back to your job if you weren't in pain?" and "Are you planning to bring a disability suit against your employer?"
WHY DO YOU NEED TO KNOW THIS, PAIN GROUP?
(Fortunately, I was able to answer honestly that I do like my job, I am planning to go back, and I have no intention of suing my employer for anything, but still. It's the principal of the thing, dammit.)
For those of you who have noticed the GLARINGLY OBVIOUS FACT that I am struggling with depression -- and for those of you who are struggling with depression, you are now my goddamn heroes for getting out of bed every morning and doing anything beyond crying from dawn until dusk because the world is such a very sad place to live in and dear god does Bella Swan make so much sense to me now and you're all going to have to listen to this ad naseum in future Twilight posts I'm sure -- the good news is that I'm on a 20-day plan to get off the medicine that may or may not be majorly screwing up my system.
The other 2/3s of the medications that I'm currently on will continue, but it's probably fine! In fact, I have two new prescriptions to add onto the pile because my doctors are annoyed that my incision isn't healing fast enough, and I'm under Doctor's Orders to EAT MOAR. (Ha. First and last time that will happen, I'm sure.) So who knows what kinds of zany side-effects I'll get next? Only the Shadow knows!
In other news, I loved the Harry Potter debates today, but I'm hoping everyone still loves each other after. Is it too much to ask for a group hug? 'Cause I kind of need one anyway, so yeah.
P.S. Dad Update: Dad has finished his last chemotherapy and his last radiation visit. There's a lag time of a week where he will continue to feel worse and then he may reasonably expect to maybe start feeling better. Now instead of worrying that he's being destroyed by radiation, we can worry that he won't recover fully (his taste buds might not grow back, and he has an increased risk towards new kinds of cancers) and that they maybe didn't get it all. Hooray for worry!
P.P.S. Primary Cat Update: The limping has returned. For several mornings in a row, he clasps Front Left Paw to his chest and hops around for a few feet. Then he brings his paw down and limps on it. Then he goes to a relatively normal, if slow and tentative walk. I am terrified and don't know what to do; he can only be examined under sedation and I don't like to sedate him if at all possible. He's eight years old and technically a "senior" cat but surely too young for arthritis or tendonitis. He's my baby and my soul and I just want him to be better.