Life in limbo is not my strongest suit.
I declared 2016 to be the year of Joyful. After the unending horror show of 2015, devastating our world so completely it will never be the same again, I declared this year would be joy. I would find joy in my work, in my home life, in the wonderfulness that is being Partnered to my love. Recovering joy and recovering hope for the future.
One of the biggest reasons I felt hopeful was that on the first of the year, I finally had comprehensive health insurance for the first time in years. Regular therapy again. Seeing my doctor to get on the meds that help both my mental and physical illness so that I could work my way into being even more functional. I did a fantastic job on my own, but I do need meds to help me get where I want to go. Especially because I have had extreme pain in my lower abdomen – the consensus was that the hypothesized early endometriosis had gotten worse and I’d need laparoscopy to take care of that. Grabbed the first available appointment with my amazing GP and off we went.
Routine labs because it had been years since I’ve had a physical or the like. Started some meds for fibro, anxiety and depression. All good. Joyful here I come. I was so thrilled, finally I was getting back to my version of “better”. It was within reach again.
Then I needed to come back for another quick test. My nurse brushed it off as no big deal, they just wanted to run something else and needed more urine. Since I always need to pee, no big deal. Didn’t really give it a second thought.
The first depression med we tried obviously wasn’t working for me, so I grabbed a spot on the schedule just before my Partner so we could make changes. Routine stuff right?
Some of my labs come back with concerning results. We sit down and talk more about my various symptoms – a majority I’ve chalked up to living with fibro. Here, pee in a cup again. Everyone’s body language changes. My nurse is patting me kindly. My doctor is offering hugs. This is wonderful for me, but alarm bells go off because I’ve been sick all my life. When the doctor wants to hug you, shit has gone wrong.
Shit has gone wrong. The fuckton of tests that have been run have alarming results and quick checks in my now three-hour routine visit continue to be alarming. “The most likely cause for all this is cancer.”
My Doctor is hugging me with a very sad look on her face.
“Likely cancer” and diagnosed with cancer are obviously two very different things. There are a bunch of really unpleasant tests that need to be done between now and then, all of which are currently waiting for fucking authorization from insurance. Of course, then Epic Snow shut down the east coast, so I’ve been told it will take longer than usual.
We just spent the last year embroiled in one of the most vicious custody battles one can imagine. My professional career has been used against us in court to our detriment. The outcome of The Madness was almost the worst it could be. Our family has been ripped apart. I’ve been in one of the worst depressive cycles of my adult life.
I fucking clawed my way back up from that hell though. We got married. I was headed into my year of joy. Get this medical stuff out-of-the-way and I was going to take off. I have workshops to plan. Podcasts to be on. Blogger Outreach and planning for the ’16 Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit. Articles to write. #OrgasmQuest to get going again. I have shit to do.
This fucking stopped me in my tracks. Even if it isn’t cancer, there is something very wrong going on. The testing process alone is going to be harrowing, trust me – I’ve been through the gamut of testing most of my life. Now, to wait an unknown period of time before we can even begin that because of the goddamn storm.
This is too much. #IamMighty and I am a freaking Superhero. A Rainbow Colored Pleasure Revolutionary. While I am sweet and kind – I’m also tough as shit. Even freaking Superheroes hit their limit and this is mine. Even more limbo. Even more of my life and future completely out of my hands right now.
So here is the deal. This sex blog is pretty deviod of sexy now. As soon as I possibly can I want to fix that. Throwing myself into writing, throwing myself into talking about sex toys, throwing myself into my continued #OrgasmQuest is the way I’ll get through this.
It’s coming, but I’m not there yet. I’m still rocked and semi paralyzed by living in limbo. Overwhelmed by yet another crisis on the horizon. I have no idea what is coming next, but somehow I’ll survive this as well.
I’m doing the best I can. Thank you for sticking by me.