Journal entry: 3/19/15
It’s been one year since my surgery and I am alive, so Dr. Selzer held up his end of the bargain; to say that life has changed would be a HUGE understatement. I have to remind myself that there is only one thing Dr. Selzer assured me would come from having the gastrectomy…..”I will save your life”, so I can’t really be upset with him at the way things are now. I go to the doctor all the time and take more medication than I did before the surgery, that has become my life. Doctors, pills, blood tests, doctors, blood tests, pills, X-rays, MRI’s, physical therapy, bone density, injections, doctors, pills, blood tests….
There is no support group in Indianapolis for people with no stomach, I am a rare breed in this city I suppose. The doctors I see (other than my surgeon) don’t really know what to do or how to treat anything because it all is so different for me, I can’t take certain medicines because you need a stomach for some reason. I don’t absorb extending-release medications because, well, you kinda need a stomach for that too. I have the WORST body/bone pain but I can’t take pain medicine because, you guessed it, no stomach.
So, this is the rundown of Cori’s body:
Organs missing: Stomach, uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes, ovaries, 1/3 of small intestine, duodenum, gallbladder, that thingy at the end of my esophagus that I can’t remember the name of
Scars from said missing organs: two 10-inch scars-one vertical & one horizontal (I refer to these as “shank” wounds to sound more gangster), two small holes from feeding tubes (I refer to these as bullet wounds to add to my gangster street-cred), twelve tiny incisions where the surgical tools were inserted during surgery (I don’t have a cool story for these)
Times a day that I throw-up: Ummm, all fucking day long. It’s fantastic.
Foods that make me sick: Anything that can called “food”.
I really do TRY to make the best out of this situation, but damn it, I don’t want to. I don’t like to go out to eat anymore because it’s become incredibly annoying to throw up in every bathroom in the city. In addition, the stares and awkward gazes of the strange women in the bathroom with me who look like they’ve never seen a grown woman vomit. Telling the waiter I’m done eating only to hear “Oh, was your food bad? Can I get you something else?” Ummm, yes you can…I’ll take one stomach. Thank you. I used to LOVE to take long walks, give myself some thinking time, but now I can’t walk more than 10 minutes before my hips and back feel like they’re on fire. There is nothing that my Rheumatologist can do for said pain, because it’s non-treatable. I smoke pot, it helps, but it’s not legal in Indiana so even though I use it to relieve pain due to medical diagnoses I can still be arrested for having it. Awesome. I have the bones of a 65-70 year old woman, according to my bone density scan (DEXA scan)….so, I’m a rather advanced 34 year old woman, yet I don’t qualify for AARP or Medicare, it seems unfair.
I want to punch just about everyone in the face…..for no real reason. I just hate that I have to go through all of this and “put my best foot forward” but I see these Facebook posts and “GoFundMe” things all day for people who wrecked their car, doesn’t have insurance, had back surgery, dyed their hair the wrong color, left their spouse, wants to move…….shit, it’s annoying!!!!!! I HAVE NO STOMACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck your make-believe problems…