Falling To Pieces

Being the smart mouth, tough "softy", little person with a big mouth and quick come back was always natural to me. I've always felt like I had to hold it together, even when I was falling apart, because I felt it was my civic duty as a child, to make sure my parents didn't worry about me. I'm of the opinion, if you're going to do something, do it right or don't do it at all. So of course, I start life as a walking natural disaster. I started the chain of one of many surgeries when I was 18 months old. I was born with a congenital heart defect where my Aorta was crushing my trachea AKA innominate artery , which in turn would cause me to code at the drop of a hat, and was further compounded by yet another birth defect in the structure of the bronchus in my right lung AKA the breathing tubes AKA pig bronchus,not the cute kind of pig either which only allows me to receive 60% lung function on my right side. So, in layman's terms : Heart defect that squishes air tube + existing non operable lung defect = Very sick baby, almost dead baby. By some miracle of God the Dr's at Mass General Hospital in Boston figured out what the malfunction was and fixed the offending defect in July of 1985. My parents say there after it was like day and night. Well, more or less.


I continued my adolesence through a perverbial revolving door at the Operating Room, almost like a comedy of errors. It might not have been funny at the time, but seriously, who gets a joint replacement in middle school because you got struck with a softball. Me, that's who. I almost died that time too. Like I said, if you're going to do something, do it right, or go full out. I got diagnosed at 17 with endometriosis, after OBGYN shopping for severe pelvic pain and periods from hell, I finally had a doctor (at least temporarily) who would listen to me. No asshole, I wasn't trying to get pain meds, I want you to end the pain, I don't want any god damned pills, I want you to find out why I turn into Sybil and bleed for 3 weeks every month - thank you very much.
By the time I graduated High School at 18, I had 18 surgeries - one for every year I was alive. It's really comforting to hear "what are you having done THIS time" from your friends, awesome. It's also a good ego booster to have to be medically excused from gym class and any team sports because it might, literally, kill you. It does wonders for your social status too, incase you were wondering, but thankfully I wasn't alone in social pergatory in High School. The art room was way more fun than lacrosse anyways.


The following years were a series of inexplicable medical mishaps and mysteries, Pancreatitis twice, Endometriosis surgery (again), Sinus surgery (for the 3rd time), diagnosis of a Mitral Valve Prolapse, mis adventures through the wonderous land of birth control (note to self, Ortho Evera Patch = Bad, very Bad), Cervical Dysplaysia and two perfect pregnancy's (take that Endometriosis!)and with a brief reprieve, I am back at square 1, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. I fell like a big bag of shit, between my right clavicle that is incased in arthiritis (WHO gets that at my age?!? honestly)and impinging my rotator cuff and all the nerves, and my endometriosis that is sucking my will to live (because its completely normal to bleed straight out for 4 months and pass out from the sharp pains), I'm spent. Oh and let's not forget the daily choking episodes that have made it all but impossible to eat with out anxiety and 9-1-1 on speed dial. Fear not, I have my first of the two procedures tomorrow to help decide whether it is Lupus, eosinophilic esophagitis, or severe GERD that is causing all of the swallowing difficulties. Hooray!!! What's more liberating than having a scope down your nostril while you're awake .....


I do not faulter though, I'm not allowed to. Having to drag my sorry ass into work aside, I'm a wife and a mother, oh and I don't want to worry my parents (they've had their fill over the past 27 years). I grew up with a sick mom, a very sick one at that. It fucking sucks. I don't want to do that to my kids or my husband, I don't want to be the emotional burden that makes them worry if I'm going to make it this time. That's not an option. The one thing I've gained though my life experience (besides a collection of some pretty impressive scars,intolerance to most codeine based medications and a nifty allergy to latex)is strength that I didn't know I was capable of. It's amazing what you can go through when the only option you have IS to be strong.