So, Update on the adventures of being me:

I went to my normal primary care doctor today, who I love btw.

He said my blood work, other than a heightened white cell count, which is normal considering I’m dealing with an internal infection in my abdominal area was spot on close to perfect. My AC1 was still a 6.8, my bad cholesterol levels were back down to below the normal limits again, my good cholesterol was up higher again where we want it. My kidney function is good, and it looks like I’ve managed to repair some of the damage on them. My immune system is at 79 percent. It’s up from where it has been, so it’s a good thing, and it speaks well for me doing what I’m supposed to do. 

We talked over the CT results, and discussed the lung results as well. Turns out they were using a newish term for something I’ve had since I was a teen. We just now have a name for it, and we know it’s a chronic thing that will never go away and will get worst as I get older. 

Bronchiectasis is a condition where the bronchial tubes of your lungs are permanently damaged, widened, and thickened. These damaged air passages allow bacteria and mucus to build up and pool in your lungs. This results in frequent infections and blockages of the airways. Bronchiectasis often occurs secondary to another medical condition such as cystic fibrosis, sinopulmonary disorders, respiratory tract infections, and allergies. I have this in both of the lower lobes of my lungs, with a greater amount of it in the left lung. We know what’s caused this in me. I’ve had my lungs collapse more than once as a kid and teenager, and  the lower left lobe has curved and doesn’t fully inflate and has never fully inflated since I was roughly six months old. Add in respiratory failure in 2016, and it’s pretty easy to see where the issue is. We now know it’s there, what it is, and knowing is half of the battle with this.

We discussed the huge weight gain (22 freaking pounds. Seriously.  People.. I literally swore.) I’ve had over the past week, and what the heck was up with that, and he was not worried as he helped explain what the heck was happening.

Turns out the weight gain is inflammation and fluid retention caused by the infection in my abdominal wall, appendix, right ovary and the internal scar tissue inside there. It was to be expected, and He understood why I was ticked about the weight gain.

I showed him my biceps, which are looking awesome from my four times a week free weights I use, my chair yoga and my stretching with my thera bands along with my  doing the PT exercises I’ve been doing for four years.

He knew that I’m doing the work, that I’m not just sitting on my ass stuffing my face and not trying. He knew and verbally acknowledged that I am working hard to stay healthy. 

Every day is a struggle that I don’t talk about often with people. It’s a struggle not to fall back into the twisted, and fucked up patterns of my eating disorder that I -never- discuss because I am -stil-l terribly ashamed and disgusted by what I did to myself all in the name of attempting to fit what is considered the standard of beauty and health. Maybe at some point I can write more on this, but that is another post I think.

We discussed pain managment and my concerns about being put on higher doses of narcotic pain killers with my family history of addiction.I’ve seen too many of my blood family members go down that path, and I know addiction is something that I may be prone to if I’m not careful. 

I’ve never hidden this fact from my doctors, and they actually respect the fact that I would rather push through pain until I have no other option to do so because I never want to slide down that rabbit hole. It would be far, far too easy for me to take all the pain meds and go down that path so easily, just so I didn’t feel anything anymore. So, for me I force myself to be honest about what I can handle, what I can’t handle and just how far my limits are. 

For now, I’m in a holding pattern til Monday’s appointment with the OBGYN in Loganville, and then a date will be set for the surgery. Then, they will cut me open and figure out what the hell is happening inside of my body. 

I feel like a bloody pinata.

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