Ohhhh, where were we. Yes, Nashville. I really liked Nashville. It was kindred to a small Austin, beautifully situated and within ten hours of all kinds of places. Everyone was nice and I met more people from out of state than born and raised. I settled into my job selling concrete resurfacing businesses. Horror of horrors there. Summers were great and over the course of the year, I made decent money but as it was 100% commission, the winter months were frightening. And the owner of the company was a micromanaging whackadoo. I eventually married the delusion, what the hell was I thinking. He never wanted to be with me, he was habitually drunk and began to gamble away my own money. I had met my husband already and we were just friends. He would listen to my woes and one night, he grabbed my hand and told me I was a beautiful woman with a compassionate heart and deserved only the best in life. Not to be treated like some object of nuisance. Not be treated without respect. And with that, I found my self-respect. Amazingly, I don't think I ever had much of it. On my way home that night, I called my sister bawling and told her how stupid of a thing I'd done. My brother in law was almost about to jump on a plane and get me the hell out but I just asked for their help with a lawyer, which he is, a very good one at that. (God bless him, he's such a good man! And Godfather to my first born) So my sister, who is also a lawyer, found one for me. They even paid for my divorce which was uncontested and signed by my ex with a flourish. Between the time of securing a lawyer, filing the paper work and receiving it back from the court, my husband was in pursuit. And I was still married so I wouldn't let him near me no matter what sweet nothings he whispered in my ear. I canceled our first date because I was terrified. But the next week, he took me to Mass as we had planned the week earlier. It dawned on me that the only people I'd ever attended Mass with were family and friends from Catholic School. As soon as those court documents came back, I kissed him and I knew. We became fairly seriously quickly and then he broke up with me. I was completely ruined. He didn't think that someone could be so wholesomely genuine. I was too optimistic, too nice, too courteous, well what the hell's wrong with that. I was raised that way and I genuinely feel that way. What do I have to be unthankful for? I'm still here and made it through my own hell and back? He was worried about my stability; my car, my job, my life. I managed to acquire a new car with the aid of my father, I found a new job in retail with a steady and fairly hefty paycheck for selling tee shirts, great benefits too, and I looked into some volunteering, anything to keep me busy. He called me back a week later to explain himself as stated before, and I told him, that's just the way I am. I can't be like some girl from NY, which is where he's from, it's just not in me. We continued our relationship a bit more slowly this time and my Mom and Sister came up to help me move into my new apartment . We went to Matt's house to cook dinner and it hit him, we're all like that. It's a family trait and he was mildly stunned. That's when he knew. And we were engaged a year and a half later. He had a general idea of my struggle with endo so when it came back full force, he wasn't unprepared, he was worried. I found the most amazing doctor, my favorite to this day, who had continued my provera. When the pain slowly came back, it was different, worse somehow. I was prescribed stronger painkillers and put on an equivalent to Lupron. It was an implant, about the size of a grain of rice, loaded by a huge needle in your abdomen. I offered to be a guinea pig and after one of the nurses did it one day, she said, "This is medieval torture, I will never do this again." Oh thank God. At any rate... surgery day had come and so had Mom. I was living with my fiance, unbeknownst to my Dad (in theory). So I was in a happy place. My surgery was four months before our wedding and I felt safe and well cared for under the care of Dr. Trabue, my fiance and my Mom. When I awoke from surgery, once again, I sobbed silently and the doctor came to tell me the bad news. Apparently, I had had endometriosis on my left ureter because it was firmly adhered to a rather large blood vessel and my left ovary, which was hardly recognizable. He had removed a massive amount of adhesions and endometrial lesions from all over, especially the lower left. My left fallopian tube had literally tied itself off by twisting like a twisty tie. He told me he wanted me to stay the night because of all the work he'd done. He also said he could not undo the ureter/ovary/blood vessel adhesion because he didn't want to damage the ureter or be in fear of me bleeding out. Which meant another surgery in the not too distant future. He said the best thing to do would be to try to get pregnant and hope the babies growth would pull the adhesions apart. He also said I was a perfect candidate for IVF. So I steeled myself once again for a difficult road. Mom stayed with me in the hospital, my fiance was beside himself with worry and I requested to get up and walk the halls to recover as quickly as possible, in between massive shots of pain killers of course. They must have stuck me 20 times in each hip. And I came rising out of the ashes again, knowing we WOULD have children. And in four months, we'd start trying.
We've been relatively calm around here. Barring the backfired sleep training, the 'I DO IT-itis', the screaming screeching temper tantrums in stereo, the total lack of interest in potty training by both, the I'm not gonna eat that's, and the vise like hold milk has over my children. Six gallons a week mind you. I have a new nut lady I see every week and I like her... a lot. We have a lot to discuss. She recorded this last session instead of feverishly taking notes and I'll see her again on Wednesday. My husband in the meantime has taken up a renewed interest in running and bought a weight bench for the basement. Can I get a Yip-Yip!
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