No One Gets It!

Here I go again. I am sorry. Lady bits complaint, AGAIN.














No one around me actually gets it.

I was socially inept before, and that was fine. I'll deal with it. Socially inept is sort of 'in' now and I figured it would be a hurdle, but one that could be overcome.

But now there's physical damage to contend with. That's harder to deal with. A lot harder.

My mother thinks I should get married (she told me this last night. Again.) I won't say she's certifiably insane to her face, but I'm thinking it. She knows me well enough to know right now that is laughable. Who is going to want a socially backward recluse with a body that no longer permits, shall we say, "all the fun and frolic" an almost 29 year old should bring to the table (or couch, or bed, or shower, and you get my point.) It's never, ever going to be easy for me to get laid without hours of preparation. There goes all the fun sucked out of it by this cursed disease.

Have I told you lately I hate LS?

I am damaged goods, twice and maybe three times over. It'll be years before I can do those sorts of things (after eventual surgery to fix my ruined body,) and even if I can, will it be worth how I feel afterwards? I might have pain for days after-how the hell is a girl supposed to have endless rounds of sex when she can't handle ONE?

I want to, eventually. I'd like to. But right now, it doesn't look like I'm going to.

So instead of dwelling on the things I CAN'T have, I'm working with what I DO have. And that means cutting the thought of a partner out of my life completely.

I'm working on that, but sometimes people don't get it. I'm starting to get the questions (anyone special? Seeing anyone? Needling, needling, needling...) I am approaching 30 and it makes sense that they ask, but it hurts me deeply when they do, it really does. How do I tell them that my body has recently closed the door, created a moat with crocodiles and sharks, and locked the gates to keep out, well, everyone?

It's half embarrassment that keeps my mouth shut, mostly because everyone around me (my friends on Facebook, I mean) is having it so damn easy finding someone and promptly getting knocked up. I am alone, boyfriendless and partnerless, because this crap has taken every bit of dignity and hope for partnership I had left and thrown it into a paper shredder. I've had more people look at my damaged underpinnings in the last year than in the last 15 years beforehand (4 people so far, plus another one coming up in March,) and every time they look the problem just gets worse.

I had to stop dreaming about someone at my side. I can't have that anymore. Foof, gone, it isn't possible anymore. Move on.

So, no, I won't marry someone in the near or distant future. I don't want pity/disgust from him when he finds out that I'm an intelligent but extremely angry person (oh, I'm angry. Have you seen how much angry I've poured into this blog?) who's been forced to live like a nun because LS decided I was its new best friend. I might never marry. It's too damned complicated and too darn painful and I'd rather not go through all the agony, thanks very much. I have to go feed the crocodiles and sharks in my moat instead.

So that's that. Complaint of the day.

Sigh. Gotta get back to work.

Ta,
Bec

So, Things Have Been Changed

Yeah, I didn't have the biopsy yesterday. I have to be off my medication for at least two weeks or it screws up the test (and no one really wants me to go through this twice.) So it's been postponed till the 29th. I have to flare in order to have a good result.

Stopping my medication to see if my symptoms get worse...OMG. Are we back in summer 2008 all over again? I am getting deja vu.

I don't have a mild case of LS anymore, either-I'm definitely in the high-medium to severe category for this. She kind of sort of mentioned that I may have to have surgery to get back some of the stuff that's currently gone under a layer of skin and scarring (she could find it under the skin layer, but that particular bit shouldn't be under a skin layer.) And -newsflash- I'm weird-apparently I'm one of the youngest people she's treating for this. Yippee.

I thought I was alright but apparently things are a little worse than I had thought they were...and part of it is my fault. I did go off my medication for an extended period in there when I should have been attentive and seeing someone for all this.

But that's happened, it's past, and now I have to deal with the problems that are cropping up now. No use crying over my scarred, white, miserable hide.

So I wait. Again.

Doing inventory. Gotta get back to it. I want to finish this today.

Ta,
Bec

Biopsy

Lady Bits Warning!
















So, normally with a diagnosis like LS, the person has a biopsy to confirm diagnosis.

I have managed to avoid this thing (which involves punching out a bit of your bits with a hole punch, apparently) for nearly three years.

But I'm trying to go see a specialist in March in Ann Arbor, and the insurance company are being jerks and are refusing to pay for this jaunt 8 hours away (for all the fun and joy it's going to bring me having someone ELSE look at my poor, bedraggled bits and diagnose me with 6 more things I can't pronounce.)

But my doctor has a plan, and it involves me donating a chunk of my privates for medical testing.

And that's Tuesday.

I'm not panicking (much.) I've already finished off the laundry, planned out when I'm taking out the garbage tomorrow, planned out my clothes for Tuesday and Wednesday, planned out what I need to do for tomorrow to be ready for the day after, made rolls (food in case I can only walk ten feet to the fridge), and the apartment is clean from last week, so yay on that. I feel less freaked out about having my body abused like this if I know I'm walking into the office ready for catastrophe.

Hopefully all goes well and I can go to work on Wednesday without too much pain going on. Let's hope. I already told my boss I might not be able to make it in (in case I need stitches or something and I'm told not to move for a day or whatever.) Again, I'd rather be overprepared than underprepared. I like to have plans on top of plans on top of plans, just in case.

Gotta love medical testing. Wish they could find a less invasive way to take my skin off.

I will write more Tuesday if I'm feeling up to it. I have no idea how I'll feel afterwards.

Ta,
Bec