Tag: ovarian cyst

Joy

It’s been a little over a week since we were sent home to hurry up and wait for my big ole cyst to rupture. So far, nothing incredibly eventful has happened. Since it didn’t rupture with this cycle, it’s likely it will stick around until my next one. It has not, however, been sitting completely dormant. Most days this week, I’ve been running fever. Sometimes at night, sometimes all day long. There’s been some discomfort, and there’s been some down-right pain, all associated with Medusa. I’ve been doing my level best to “take it easy” and “relax” and “minimize stress.” Those last two are nearly impossible, but I’m getting better at it. I think.

During one of my Sally Sad Sop times this week, I started thinking of all the things I miss because of this (endometriosis/infertility).

From a dietary standpoint, I miss bread. Good bread. Bleached, wheat-y, fluffy, glutinous bread. I also miss bright orange “cheese flavored” crunchy things. I’ve cut gluten out of my diet, along with other inflammatory foods, to help keep a check on my endometriosis and IC (both inflammatory diseases). It has helped tremendously.

From an entertainment standpoint, I miss wine. Not that I was ever a lush, but a glass with the girls every now and then does wonders for my sanity. I’ve heard its good for your heart. Whatever. It’s fantastic. I can’t do that any more, because fertility.

I miss running. My job is a little more demanding these days, and I don’t have quite as much time and energy for it as I used to. It’s also not entirely wise for me to do more than “moderate” exercise during treatments, and especially unwise to over do it with a time bomb on my right ovary. I miss being able to go out for hours and log several miles. It’s therapeutic. I’m still running, but anything over a 10k is unwise at this time. That makes me a little sad.

There is one thing that I miss the most, more than bread and Cheez-Its and Riesling and 13.1s:

Football.

Mister shoots football every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday from the end of August until Christmas, if we’re lucky. Sometimes on Sundays, too. WhoDat.. For most of these games, I’d go with him. It didn’t really matter who was playing. I love the game. I love the atmosphere. I love football. I don’t go with him this season, with the “taking it easy” and “relaxing” and what not. I’m supposed to rest when I can, simplify my schedule. The chronic pain and fatigue and flaring migraines haven’t helped my get-up-and-go, either.
My husband and I met on a football field. Our relationship started and grew around a battered Southern Miss team in 2008, so I particularly miss (good) Southern Miss football. I would tailgate for every game. It’s work, it’s exhausting, I love it. I’ve been to one game this year, and haven’t hauled my tailgate tent one time.
Take it easy. Relax. Don’t over do it.

In May, we moved from an apartment to a house. The move took us from the county to Midtown, 1.7 miles from Southern Miss (I run). We knew we were closer to both of our jobs, closer to everything really. The traffic is terrible. Last week, as I was feeling crummy about missing football, I heard a loud noise, loud music. I figured it was our neighbors being obnoxious. As I stepped outside, I realized how close we really were to the stadium on campus. I can hear every play, the band, the cannon… Quite clearly. It’s a beautiful sound. It’s like living on campus all over again, in the best way.
I’m sitting at home tonight, taking it easy, relaxing, not over doing it, missing the football game… But not. I love our city, I love Southern Miss, and I love that I can follow doctors orders and still have a piece of the game. God has given me a blessing in the midst of “can’t haves” and “can’t dos”. He has given me a way to enjoy a very important piece of myself, so that I don’t lose myself in the pain and occasional self pity/self loathing that accompanies this.

I will chose to find blessings in the little things, and I will rejoice. When I start to pout or wallow, I will find the blessings.

Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning!

(P.S. If Southern Miss can pull it out in the 2nd half, joy might come sooner for several of us.)

To the top, y’all.

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