Sunday, September 07, 2014

A realistic approach to tomorrow

Tomorrow morning, I am having that IVC Filter removed from my vena cava. Remember that thing? The little device left over from the February surgery adventure? I could leave it in for the rest of my life but a pre-60 yr old person should not have this inside forever if blood clot medication is doing the right thing. My neighbor has one, and he's had multiple problems with it. He's in his 50s, and you'd think he was 80. He hates it. I think I would too. So it's gotta go. Thanks for maybe doing what you were supposed to do and keeping clots from going into my lungs, IVC! Your efforts are appreciated.

It is day surgery, I should be in and out of the building from what I understand.

During the month of August,  I witnessed from afar the sudden and unexpected deaths of several friends. Not Joan Rivers and Robin Williams. My friend Ed from high school lost his husband Brad after his second bout with leukemia, leaving him behind with 2 small children to raise and a severely broken heart.

And then a friend from college died after having an epileptic seizure while swimming. He just celebrated his 50th birthday the week before. In college, he was one of my closest friends... the best friend and cousin of my then boyfriend. For a couple of years, we were puppies in a pile together, and I remember those years and that guy with such love and deep reverence. He was a genius, so funny and so amazing. I'm still heartbroken about the loss.

Then another friend from high school died unexpectedly while in hospital in North Carolina. She hadn't been feeling well for months, was having breathing problems. She finally was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia literally days before her death. She described it as a highly treatable form of cancer with great remission rates. A couple of days later she posted on Facebook that she  was in the ICU with breathing issues and low oxygen counts. And then she was gone. Just like that.

You all know me, I'm not maudlin or fretful or obsessed with things. I'm walking into this day surgery with no fear. This is routine. This was all about timing and making sure my medication for the blood clots and the clots themselves were doing everything right.

That said.

I love you all. Just in case I don't get to say it again after tomorrow morning. I know. I know it is weird. And a little bit creepy, you know?

But routine sometimes does not mean routine. And expected sometimes doesn't go as. In my heart of hearts I know that and I just want to, if necessary, go out on a good footing with a smile on my face.

Talk to you later. And don't worry. I won't be a weirdo and never ever post here again leaving you wondering "what the heck?" I'm not that mean. Well sometimes a little. But usually that's all in good fun and not douchebaggery rudeness.


  1. ::hugs:: I hope at least one of your friends was close enough geographically that you were able to get to the funeral. That can make a really big difference in healing.

    Re: this morning: if routine isn't routine - I'd like you to know that you're literally the only FB friend on my list whom I've never met in person. I also have just two blogs on my browser's favorites bar; one is my best friend from high school, and the other is you. You're in both places because I value you. I'll miss you a lot, if routine isn't routine, even though we've never met. I'm praying for you and your doctors this morning, Christine.

    1. hey lala, no... all the friends were too far to go to the funerals for. I watched from afar. and routine wasn't routine today but I'm home and all's well.

      I do think it is a riot we've never met in person. Let's remedy that sometime soon, shall we? i value you as well my dear.

  2. Yes, let's. I'm trying to think of when I can get away from here, and I'm not coming up with anything... let me brainstorm....