More gross stuff.
I was in pain this morning, and it was very similar to when I had an abscess after my first chemo. Thinking I was just being paranoid, I called my GI surgeon. They got me right in this afternoon. The doctor thought at first it was just a little fluid and offered an aggressive option of in-office draining, or sending me home with preventative antibiotics and hoping it would resolve.
I decided to have it drained, which involved some lidocaine at first. The doctor kept exclaiming how much fluid came out (“it took an entire pack of 4×4 gauze to absorb it!”) and also declared it to be a bigger infection than initially suspected. So. It was good that we drained it. It being, apparently, another full blown abscess. Oh yeah, the lidocaine wore off partway through the procedure. Some previous genetic testing had revealed I am a fast metabolizer of pain medicine, and if there is a “next time,” I am to receive a lot more lidocaine. Great. Makes me think back to all the pain I experienced during my biopsies during my cancer diagnosis.
I can’t have this fistula repaired until I’m long done with chemo (I had my last treatment Dec. 19, but the side effects are still raging). Still, I have had considerable fatigue the last few days, and I am kind of relieved to know that this infection likely played a considerable role. Because honestly, the fatigue level was starting to make me angry and frustrated.
Best news of all this: I can still ride my horse whenever I want. Special thanks to Ms. NH for riding Lucky Alex tonight — he needs to stay fit as we get ready for the new show season! Because this evening, I’m going to pop a couple percocet and get some rest.
I’m seriously fed up with medical stuff. I need a vacation. Except I have to go to Duke like every month in 2015 for my next phase of breast cancer treatment, and I will need to have this fistula addressed (outpatient surgery), and I have to have my benign adrenal mass investigated (also at Duke). I have 3 medical appointments in the first 5 weeks of 2015. But then I think of my breast cancer sisters who are doing more chemo than me, and/or 6 weeks of daily radiation treatment. And I know I am fortunate. I have a great treatment plan, a great medical team, and I am in pretty darn good physical shape (getting ready to move up a division in jumping — aka bigger jumps! — and could return to the show ring either this month or next month). My fear was that I would be an atrophied, nearly bed-ridden exhausted and disfigured mess at this time. And I’m not even close to that.
But seriously, I am tired of all this literal pain in the ass medical BS. Given that I have relinquished every one of my vices, including wine, I think I have totally earned my oncoming opiode high. Bring on the Percocet.