Welcome to my side of the fence. . .

Welcome to my side of the fence. . . Here you will
enjoy some good laughs, maybe some frustrations,
and hopefully (if I'm a good enough writer), a few tears.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Hope? Is it You?

Well, it been several emotional days.

September 13th:
I'd like to start off with Scott and his health. The 12th, he had a scope put down his throat and into his tummy. For several months, he's had bad acid reflux that causes him to not eat or throw up. It's become a daily problem and the medications he's taking for it are not helping. They did biopsies to make sure nothing's cancerous, but that seemed of no concern to the doc. He's confident that is not the issue. What is, he saw. So the findings were that Scott has problems in his esophagus and stomach valves that cause bile to come up all the way to his throat, inflaming the lining of stomach, esophagus, and throat. He also has a hiatus hernia and a single gastric polyp was removed (a small bump, I think). A hiatus hernia is when a little bit of your stomach is poking up into your esophagus. I called it an esophagus hemorrhoid, lol. Next week we find out what the next step will be. Obviously, meds aren't helping and the doc suggested a surgical alternative to tighten up the valves so they close and open as they should.
Now let me tell you about Scott coming out of anesthesia. LOL, oh my gosh. As soon as I figure out how to download the video off my phone and onto my computer you will see it. I also had the pleasure of calling one of his troops so he could hear Scott's babblings. Scotty was very adamant about ice cream sandwiches and was a bit emotional about getting his hands on one. It was hilarious. Oh, and he wanted to invent something along the lines of a "rubble bubble bunny head" of which he did not know what you do with it, but it had lucky feet. LOL I got video of that, too.

September 15th:
Insurance has us on a rollercoaster. One day, I'm approved for partial inpatient care, then I'm not. Then they want a physical. Then they want this or that. I was supposed to start the partial inpatient tomorrow. It's a no go. I can't even get to my doc appt until Wednesday, the 17th. Our ultimate goal is to get me into a full time inpatient facility. If Tricare is giving us crap for partial inpatient, I'm not optimistic about being in a facility. What it comes down to is Tricare does not want to pay money for long term care. It's all about the almighty dollar. Good things have come out of us pushing and fighting back. We have found an advocate in Scott's squadron, a caseworker and she has performed miracles in the system. She did get me approved today for partial in patient, pending my physical. She knows the back doors of the system and has connections with others who have connections. They know how to finagle their way through the sea of paperwork and have been nonstop at helping me. I am so thankful.

September 17th:
Holy cow. We finally found a facility that accepts Tricare! It's not through the Emily Program, although I will come back to them for preventive relapse care. According to Tricare, the Emily Program is too new and not accredited so therefore unsuitable. But they approved the partial inpatient care? I did a phone consultation with a facility called Reasons. It's in Rosemead, California, just barely outside of L.A. I think you start with inpatient on a residential-like hospital wing to stabilize me physically and start stuffing my face (not really). I think that after a couple weeks, they move you to a residential house in Pasadena. At least that's the impression I got. We get a call tomorrow to find out what they suggest for plan of attack and when.
I went to my physical today and he cleared me. I weigh 115 fully clothed. It was the first time I saw my weight in over two weeks. The doc was quick to inform me that this is the first time he's ever heard or seen a bariatric patient turn anorexic (made me feel good--not). He also said I'll never be cured, I'll fight this the rest of my life (double yay). He said he's really curious to the outcome of my situation and to come back and fill him in. He said it like I was a lab rat experiment. I wanted to punch the living shit outta his face. I will not be back. I am finding another doctor. I will not stand to be called a failure before I even had a shot at trying. Asshole. He is also the same doc that told me the first time I ever saw him that I will more than likely die due to being bipolar and will probably commit suicide. Because he's worked in ER's for years and year's, he saw it all the time, therefore he judged me as such. I should've dropped him then. Now I'm the dumbass.

In general, over the last several days:
I've cried, I've hoped, I've felt stripped of hope, I'm scared, frustrated, angry. I'm thankful though for the strangers who have been fighting for me. Through them, Scott, and the Emily Program, we have found a way so that other military dependents can now have a better shot at getting approved. Networking has been established mostly because of Scott. He directly hooked up all these strangers fighting for the cause and now they know each other and what each can do to help the next person. Scott single-handedly opened the floodgates. Praise God, there's gonna be other women who won't be tortured by Tricare. We're onto them! This is EXACTLY what I want my experience to do: to change other's lives. And in a small instance, it has. So, that gives me hope.
My Emily Program therapist has strongly pushed Scott to remove the elliptical out of the house. I threw a fit. The fact that I ride it for 100 minutes every day and don't consume more than 700 calories a day is apparently a bad thing. She told me that my body is getting it's energy now from my muscles and at this point I've lost 20% of my muscle mass, to include my heart, being that it's a muscle. She said this is why anorexics die of heart attacks. This has been my first eye-opener. I don't want to have a heart attack in front of my kids. She said she understands my need to exercise, but not to do it more than an hour and at a walking pace. My heart rate can't go above 130. B-O-R-I-N-G. But I've complied. Unfortunately, I've "compensated" by eating even less.

September 18th, 4:30a.m.:
I can't sleep. I've been up since 3. I'm anxious to what/where the next week will hold. Will I be in CA? I am going to miss my family, my goats, my home comforts. My lifestyle (besides the anorexia, of course). How will Scott manage? It's always been me playing the single parent and it's hard. It's juggling schedules, prioritizing, asking for help when pride doesn't get in the way. I have so much I want to do to help prepare, but I may not have enough time to line it all up. We do have a plan for Nina. She's in an out of district school, but they are willing to work with us; Scott has arranged a bus stop in the morning, so on his way to work he can drop her off and jump back on the freeway and not be too late for work. Afterschool, she will take another bus and she'll be dropped off a short walk to the city library and she'll do homework until Scott picks her up. The library is like her second home, so it's right up her alley (my kid loves books so much that she's reading a biography on Abraham Lincoln for fun). Scott will still have to juggle D's soccer practice and Saturday games. And laundry. And meals. And keeping D on track with homework. And grocery shopping. And. . . there's just so much. I have it lined up that a friend of mine is gonna help out with housework once a week or so. And my goats are being boarded with another friend. They were headed that way anyways to be bred and she said they can stay as long as I need them to. I think that will help Scott and I know that my babies will get lovin's and attention. The only thing I haven't done yet is arrange a meal train of some sort. I have a few people in mind that I am gonna swallow my pride and ask them to provide a meal so Scott doesn't have to worry about it all the time.
I don't know. I feel so guilty. It should never gotten this bad. I don't know how it got to this point. It just happened. I am so afraid to be 275 pounds again. I have it set in my mind that the farther my weight numbers get away from the number 275, the better chance I'll have at never being there again.

Please, the few of you that read this. . . be there for Scott. Call him, text him. Invite him over. If my kids are friends with your kids, we can do sleepovers. "Play dates". Going to the movies. Any social time. Scott's cell number is (360) 972-9323. Be there for him. No one has had his back this entire time. All the focus has been on me. Pray for him for strength (emotional fifteen year olds and fighting children is hard when you're dealing with EVERYTHING) and his health. Please be his friend.

Thanks, guys.

"Be bold and diligent. And God be with you as you do your best." ~ 2 Chronicles 19:11

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