Friday ... and a timeline ...

 First, the good stuff.

Some of the flowers from my front garden.  Of the 200ish bulbs I planted in this area, not many came up.  Some gladiolas earlier in the summer and these.  I'm hopeful that next spring, summer, and fall more will come up.  Some of these looks like there is a tiny hairdresser that comes at night to nibble off the ends, like trimming off the split ends.  I have not seen anything on them during the day to tell me who the stylist is.

Next is the finished lamp for my dresser. 

This rocking chair was a gift and was handmade by the friend of the giver.  It was an apprenticeship project by her friend to see if he would be accepted into the program by the craftsman and surprisingly was not because one of the finger spaces on the armrests was one finger wider than the other.  A "flaw" no one would even notice if not pointed out.  Regardless, it is exquisite in my eyes, and wonderful in my living room!

I've been embellishing this hoodie to wear for Halloween with glow-in-the-dark fabric paints.

Last up, fall colors so far from yesterday evening at the bridge.  I can't wait for the mountains to be in full glory.

So, my timeline is of the medical adventures I've had this summer, and it comes with a request at the end of it for any physicians who read this, friends of physicians, and just anyone, in general, facing medical adventures which is pretty much all of us at some point in our lives whether it be our own adventures or those of someone we care about.

• 8 April 2021:  Diagnosed with diabetes.
• 22-26 April: Four-night stay in hospital for pancreatitis = $30,000 in hospital, ambulance & physician bills.  I'm overwhelmed.
• May-early July:  I've lost 30 unexpected and unplanned pounds.  My clothes are hanging off me.
• 13 July:  Had the first CT scan of my entire abdomen.
• 16 July:  Dr. K calls to tell me I have enlarged lymph nodes in my abdomen and he suspects cancer, wants me to see my gynecologist as soon as possible for a pelvic exam since the radiologist asked if I had a history of cancer in that area.
• 19 July: Dr. K calls again and now wants an MRI of the liver after talking further with the radiologist and a mass is detected larger than the hemangioma I've been aware of for decades.
• 26 July: See Dr. P for a pelvic exam.  The very first words she says to me upon entering the room, even before examining me, are "Radiation will give you the best chance for survival."  When I stated that I wasn't sure I wanted to go that route without more information, she said that she could leave right then without doing my exam if that was my choice.  I ask her to proceed with the exam.  [Made a mental note to never see her again.]  Biopsies taken during the exam do not show signs of cancer or other malignancy.
• 6 August: MRI done of the liver shows two masses, including the one I've been aware of.  The new one was not there on the last ultrasound of my liver in 2019. 
• 16 August: Referral to cancer center on 27th for possible liver cancer.
• 26/27 August: Oncologist calls evening prior to seeing him, to find out when I am having a colonoscopy.  He tells me that he believes I have "Stage 4 colon cancer that has spread to liver and lymph nodes."  I was very upset.  Colonoscopy was scheduled, also a liver biopsy.  
• 14 September: After multiple cancellations and reschedules, colonoscopy is finally done.  Biopsies taken do NOT show any cancer or malignancies but show ulcerative colitis.  Delay in getting the liver biopsy done because I need to be off arthritis medication for at least 10 days first.
• 30 September:  Liver biopsy is done finally.  Five biopsies were taken through the right side between ribs instead of the abdomen as previously told I would need.  All five come back negative for cancer or any malignancy.  More prayers answered.
• 4 October: Find out that the 21.3k hospital bill from April has been reduced by 19.7k after a "financial assistance" charity reduced the amount of the hospital bill.  I'm overwhelmed but for a different reason.

This is my request to providers and healthcare workers.  Please, please, PLEASE don't speak a diagnosis without having some evidence first.  Twice I was told things based ONLY on what the physician saw on the CT, not on any definitive testing results.

My request to everyone else is to NOT embrace, welcome, or accept negative words spoken over you or someone you care about.  Man does NOT have the final answer.

Mindset is everything.  I believe that if I had embraced the negative words spoken over me by the gynecologist and oncologist, all of this could have had a different outcome.  But even more than a mindset, I believe that my faith is more powerful than any negative words spoken over me.  Even if what they had first said was proven true in the biopsies, I was not going to be afraid because of my faith, and the knowledge that this world is not my home.

Words on Wednesday ...

This Writing Challenge was started by Delores a long time ago. Computer issues led her to bow out for a while, and now Words for/on Wednesday is provided by a number of people around the world and has become a movable feast, with [Elephant's Child in Australia] acting both as moderator, and this month providing the prompts.

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write. Each Tuesday or Wednesday (depending on time zones and hemispheres) we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music, or an image. What we do with those prompts is up to us: a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or ignoring them. We can use some or all of the prompts.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month and my Words on Wednesday this month will center around that theme since I have twice now been married to men who were abusers in very different ways.  DV is not always visible, and often the unseen bruises and scars are the deepest.  I hope to empower other women with my words this month.

If you or someone you love is experiencing any type of domestic violence, there is help.  Please visit the [National Coalition Against Domestic Violence resources page].

~*~*~

On the surface, he never seemed like her family would find him unsuitable when they were still dating.  In truth, even after they married they never did dislike him for any reason.  He knew all the right words to make the ladies trust him, and all the men like him.  All of which made it harder, twelve years later when she finally left him for good.  They didn't believe her when she told them about the verbal, emotional, psychological, and sometimes sexual abuse.  It had started so slowly, so subtly that she wasn't even aware that she had lost control of her life until it was too late to make an easy end of their life together.

That's how narcissists and manipulators work.  They trick you into thinking they have your best interests at heart.  They make you feel crazy for even thinking that they would ever say or do anything to hurt you.  They tell you that whatever they did do that hurt you physically or emotionally was because of something YOU did.  It was your fault.  You made them, because if you hadn't done this or done that, they never, ever would have done it.  And you believe them.

That's called gaslighting.

Oh, he cried big crocodile tears when she ran.  Told everyone how much he loved her, missed her, and wanted her to come back home.  He would go out to her job, or her new apartment, and leave cards on her windshield telling her how much he needed her.

But never once did he say he was sorry.  Never once did he apologize for the things he had called her, or the ways he had belittled and demeaned her.  He never believed there was anything wrong with the times he had woken her in the middle of the night by forcing himself on her, essentially raping her since she had woken to the act in progress.   She would close her eyes, face the wall, and pray that God would just let her die right then and there.

She was "his" wife: a possession to be taken, used, abused, or treated however he chose.  He believed that where the Bible stated "and two shall become one" meant that she ceased to exist as an individual.  Her life was to become a mirror image of his own.  She was not allowed to have separate interests, hobbies, and likes or dislikes.

On the surface, their life together appeared to be perfect.  They had his friends.  They had his family.  They even occasionally went to see her cousins that lived in the same state, and once even they both went to Scotland to see her mother and sister.  But she was never allowed to have friends he didn't know about, especially men friends.  If she ever mentioned a male co-worker, even casually, he would become angry and jealous.  She wasn't allowed to have phone conversations with her family away from where he could listen to what she was telling them.  She couldn't have her own bank account or credit card.

Her voice had been silenced for a very long time.

The final straw came after he had "allowed" her to go to her 20-year high school reunion without him.  For the first time in ten years, she spoke and people listened.  They respected and admired her and told her things about herself that she had forgotten.  They didn't know or need to know, all of her truth.  But they had given her back something she had lost.

Self-respect.

~*~

Leaving him had been scary, and hard because she had to walk away with only what she brought into the relationship in order to avoid an ugly court fight.  But she knew that if she fought for what she deserved, all she would get would have been killed.  

Once when he had made a side comment once that if she ever tried to leave him, and if they'd had kids at the time, he would kill her rather than argue over custody, it was a comment she knew had more truth in it than not.  She made sure to never miss one of her birth control pills and when she knew there was a chance of her ovulating and getting pregnant while on the pills, she would say or do something to make him angry enough to give her the silent, cold shoulder treatment.  Even if it lasted months, his silence was golden.

Stepping out onto the serenity deck she created at her new townhome, she eased into a hammock chair and kicked off her slippers, rocking back and forth as she watched the sun come up over the bay.

Life was good, and getting better every day.

Sunday ... but first ...

   I am cautiously optimistic about the preliminary biopsy results that I received yesterday afternoon.  It appears that the larger liver mass (now known as Dr. Evil Mass) is a hemangioma (cluster of blood vessels) like the smaller hemangioma (now known as Mini Mass).   The pathology report has not been reviewed by any of my doctors yet, but the fact that it came back so quickly and was released to me is a positive indication of no cancer or malignant growth.

  Yesterday was a busy day in Covington, VA with a friend.  She was there to pick up prescriptions, I rode with her to get groceries and hit up the Goodwill for jeans that will fit and a few long-sleeved shirts.  While we were gone, the mail came with several project items I'd been waiting on.

  The first to be done was getting the roots planted for several lilies-of-the-valley in my small angel garden.  I had planted several in the front yard where I thought it was shaded enough, but none of them took, and I'm not sure if it was too much sun.  They are my birth flower so have always been my favorite, but I did not see them in the wild until I moved north.  It is cold enough here that they will also do well.

  The Egyptian cartouche reads "Always and Forever" and was a gift that came with a [Once Upon a Book Club] subscription that I tried last year.  The book was "The Book of Two Ways" by Jodi Picoult and was really quite good.  I love history, archeology, and the possibility of second chances. 

 

The next project was the last piece of the dresser upcycle.  As a reminder, here is an image of the original.  After repainting, and adding a mandala decal, the final bit was the handles to match.  

  Naturally, I "assumed" they had arrived without the necessary screws, and so the two requisite trips to the hardware store were done before I found the screws late last night in the side of the sofa where I had opened the package.  

  By that time I had also improvised attaching them since the screws I selected were too small and slid through the holes, and the washers I went back to get made the screws two short.  By that time, the hardware store was closed until Monday and so I improvised.  The handles will now NEVER come off.  

  Fortunately, the screws that came with it would have been too long for the width of the wood and would have stuck out on the inside of the drawer, making my improvisation necessary after all to keep them from being wobbly.  It all worked out for the best.

  They now sort of resemble bats, however, I'm sure it is because it 'tis the season.

  Next to arrive was a small lamp I'd been waiting on for the top of the dress since it sits in a dark corner of the bedroom even with the overhead ceiling fan light on behind me.  I wanted to find something I could hang my dangle earrings off of, and still provide enough light to see when putting them in.

  My solution was a lamp with a chicken wire shade that I could weave fabric through so it wouldn't be blindingly bright, but still, leave an open layer to hang the earrings.  This is only partial completion of the fabric weave.  It was time-consuming between ripping the fabric and getting it woven with the printed side out, and before I knew it I was about 45 minutes overdue for my last meal and meds of the day.

  The "cup" is actually a mercury glass candle holder.  The jar is my "turn it over" to God jar for prayers, hurts, and regrets.  I will use the pieces of sticky notes then burn them at the end of the year in a bonfire.  Praises, such as a clean pathology report, will be (has been) shouted to the heavens immediately and continuously.  The small bowl is actually made of concrete and painted on the inside.  I'm using it as a catch-all for smaller stud earrings.

  One other project not yet started is getting my tools organized in a bag I was finally able to find at the hardware store.  Nails, screws, and unused washers will be sorted by size into old medicine pill bottles.  My "tool tub" became a "tool drawer" in the kitchen when the tub became too heavy to take down from the top of the refrigerator without risking getting clunked on the head by something falling out of it (like my hammer).  It will be a sitting down project to do while watching television ... perhaps during football tonight.

quick update ...

 Yesterday was a very long day.  I would say it started when I climbed into my friend's vehicle at 345a, but in reality, it started about 1a when I woke to acid rolling fire in my throat.  I'm not sure if it was nerves or the late afternoon meds to help me sleep some, but it kept me awake until my alarm went off to get up anyway at 230a.

  It was a 3-hour drive to the WVU hospital in Morgantown, and I'm embarrassed to say there were moments when I caught myself waking up with my mouth hanging open.  No drooling as far as I know.  I was checked in and on a gurney by 730a, but am not sure exactly what time the procedure started.  There was not a clock within my line of sight, and they said that the procedure prior to mine was running late.

  When they did start my procedure, I was given meds for the pain and a mild sedative to make me comfortable.  An ultrasound was done of the area on my abdomen when the other hospital said the mass was located, however (and hip-hip-hooray) the procedure was not done via my abdomen, but through my ribs on my right side.  It felt as if three biopsies were taken, however, I only have one hole in my side, so think that they must have just used one bore needle for the extractions.

  Results will be back in 5-7 days.  Until then, I'm living my best life.