Well, shit…

Well, shit...

Buying the house was a big step for us. It was our leap into actual, full-scale adulthood. With it, came other decisions. We’d discussed them at length and came to a hesitant, but mutual conclusion. It led me to stopping my birth control at the end of December. The last time I took a pill was in 2013. We expected it would take awhile, the husband was on an experimental cancer treatment protocol at a very young age and he’s the only surviving member of his group. He does a yearly checkup, because they still don’t understand the side effects of the cancer curing things he was on. Notably, though, chemo causes fertility issues down the line. Then there’s me, with my family history of PCO, endometriosis, and the fact I was on birth control simply to battle my very heavy, horribly painful monthly periods.

Even so, I’ve never missed a period since I hit puberty. It’s always been regular, which is why doctors have always shrugged away my worries. I got horribly sick with a twenty-four hour bug March 5-6. It was awful. I threw up, I couldn’t eat, and I was horribly dehydrated despite drinking water almost constantly to combat the constant throwing up. It hit me the week my period was supposed to. I didn’t get it and my husband said it was probably because I was sick. I was skeptical, because I’d been sick before and gotten it just fine.

My suspicions arose then, but I was still in denial. It was an impossibility. Then, the next week, I willingly went to bed at 10pm. I looked at my husband and said, “I’m really tired, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” I don’t think his jaw ever lifted off the floor. I’m a night owl. I do not go to bed early. I’ve been extremely fatigued and near narcoleptic at times, both at work and at home. My worries grew as I started experiencing odd sensations throughout my body. Given my history of issues, I’m ‘in tune’ with it; I know when something’s off and something was definitely off.

I tried not to panic. I could have stomach cancer, as all my symptoms revolved around my abdomen. That, or I could be–but I refused to acknowledge that. I wasn’t, I couldn’t… not now. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, after all. We had trips planned throughout the summer and Key West waiting for us in October. I had wine and long island iced teas to drink, damn it!

The husband kept asking me if I was all right and I said I was, I was just tired. I caught a cold shortly after my bout of sickness (that I have still) because the weather has been insane. I blamed that. I’m tired because I have a cold. I’m miserable because I have a cold. My stomach feels sick because I have a cold. I want to eat Chinese food every day, all day because I have a cold. Vanilla ice cream? Hell yes, forget chocolate–all because I have a cold and I can’t smell.

I finally got frightened enough last week to order some tests online through Amazon Prime. I was walking through the halls at work and where I haven’t been able to smell for nearly a year, I’m not used to smelling anything. The cold seems to be clearing out my sinuses, so I’m smelling random things again. I caught a smell in the hallway and my stomach rolled almost instantly. It wasn’t even an unpleasant or unusual smell. I kept myself from freaking out and quietly ordered the tests, which arrived on Friday.

I worked Friday night, having issues with my stomach (mild bloating, slight, awkward cramping, and just general ‘nausea’ that isn’t so much nausea as annoying.) I went to bed and when I woke up at 3am, I took one of the tests. It was one with a week indicator. I had a scare nearly five years ago, so I figured it would come up negative and then I could make a doctor’s appointment and figure out what was going on with my body. I nearly shit myself when THIS popped up:

20140322_035752

 

I would have screamed a scream worthy of a horror movie, but it was 3am and the husband was sleeping. He was planning on going into work because he had a lot of stuff to do. So, I couldn’t really wake him. Instead, I ran the gamut of emotions in a matter of minutes. There was crying, shaking, and mostly a lot of freaking out. Loki became concerned and started pacing with me, winding through my legs.

I knew I needed to sleep, so I laid in bed. All I did was stare at the back of the husband’s head and freak out. My life was over. All my plans, all my dreams, everything was gone. The life I knew was going to disappear into one I wasn’t even sure I wanted. Sure, I’m inherently maternal, but I don’t particularly like babies and I swear, I play video games, I’ve only just recently been able to enjoy myself without the shadow of my parents horrible failings hanging over my head like an awaiting axe.

I took others and they all said the same. I told the husband five seconds after he woke up and got a confused, tired, and stunned look. Followed by a groan of, “what? I’m too tired of to comprehend what you’re saying right now.” The rest of the day was spent frantically cleaning while I tried to figure out what I’m supposed to do. Thankfully, the in-laws came and I confided in the mother-in-law, who had to shove her cellphone case in her mouth while she danced around and freaked out, trying not to scream.

To me, it still isn’t real. It won’t be until I have a blood test staring me in the face and even then, I’ll probably still act like I’m looking at alien writing. I’m beyond tired, I can’t deny that, but it just feels like I’m sick. I’m still not sure how I feel. The husband should be happy, and I think he is, but he’s hesitant because of me. My father-in-law’s reaction was delayed and hilarious. The husband told him as they were pulling out and he kind of did the same thing the husband did with his face, and then said, rather dazedly, “oh. Oh. Congratulations.”

Mother-in-law called us to tell us that a few minutes later, in the car, it hit him fully and he began wandering aloud about being a grandpa and what they would call him. He was completely dead set on them using his name, as the thought of being called “peepaw” was abhorrent. I’m inclined to agree. I call my grandparents “gram” and “pap”, none of this weird southern crap.

Making an appointment ASAP on Monday. I’d like to get in there quickly, because if my tests were right, I’m almost two months along. Which is a little terrifying. I keep reminding everyone not to say ANYTHING to ANYONE, as nothing is completely known right now. It could be smoke and mirrors; it could fail horribly and disappear completely; we don’t know enough to concisely state anything.

Until then, I’ll be freaking out in between naps and constant peeing. Because that’s all I seem to be capable of these days. Playing video games is a downright exhausting process anymore.