Okay, I think it’s fixed but I had to delete a couple of posts to make it work. Anywhoo. Yeah. I think we’re back up and running…

Oswald 2010

My vacation at the Oregon coast with friends I’ve known most of my life was an absolute blast. It was relaxing and beautiful. It was delicious to see faces of people I love, hear them laugh and catch up on their lives. I know the coastal air, the sound of surf and the scent of sea had a great deal to do with the healing of my body, but not nearly as much as the company of people I love.

There’s something about being around your true friends – you know, the ones that held your hair while you were bent over a toilet, edited your bad high school emo poetry, or drove up Thompson Pass in the middle of the night with you because you “felt like a midnight view” there to talk till sunrise about your most secret and passionate dreams – yeah, those friends.

The friends who’ve called you on your shit for 17 years, whose opinions you trust and motives are compassionate. The friends that believe you are strong even when you feel weak and somehow, magically, you actually surprise yourself with the strength that you didn’t know you had.

These are my friends. The ones I’ve loved through 17 years of evolutions, loss, love, joy, misery, mischief and grief. Has it always been easy? No. of course not. Has it always been worth it? Absolutely.

Thusly, I found myself in Manzanita, Oregon - four blocks from the ocean and in a giant rental house where all of us met to catch up. Sometimes there are more of us that can get together and sometimes fewer, but we try to make a habit of getting together at least once a year with our families and spend some quality time together.

I have never been in this group and felt so utterly not myself. When I was going through my divorce, they were upbeat and encouraging – but so too was I curious and while heartbroken – I was also excited to see what life had to offer me in terms of freedom and exploration.

This last week was not the case. I had not planned on bringing up my medical issues at all. I only wanted to enjoy their company and soak up the enjoyment of being around them.

Then I hemorrhaged at work the Thursday before we were set to leave and I went to the Emergency Room in distress and severe blood loss. That night I went home and thought about it – I couldn’t possibly go on vacation with them – and not mention that it was a very real possibility that I might collapse and bleed all over someone at some point during the week.

I wobbled back and forth. Talk about it. Be silent. Talk about it. Be silent.

But my “be silent” plan lasted all of half an hour because as soon as my friend Sondra stepped off the plane and we headed out – I was filled with relief that my truest and oldest friends were near and all that I felt burdened by would have a safe haven if I only spoke.

All that I haven’t been able to blog. All that I am congested in my spirit. My very real fears of dying and my sense of loss that my own body is working against me. The convoluted angst of the possibility of never being able to give birth – of the feminine mystery of motherhood. The frustration that my insurance company is so messed up and the RAGE at the medical community for consistently treating me like a number or a stupid hysterical woman for wanting my questions answered.

All that I intended to keep quiet, burst forth and for the next five days all I talked about was my vagina.

Seriously?

I talked about my cooch for five days? Why didn’t they stop me?

I suppose it’s because they are my friends, and they knew somehow that I needed to talk. They took it all in stride, one guy sitting up with me till 5 am to discuss my options and the variables of which treatments are available. He offered intelligent feedback and asked complicated questions to things even I hadn’t considered.

My girlfriends always listened compassionately when I talked about the bleeding – every single day – since the last part of February. They moaned and groaned with me helping me realize I’m not just being a wuss – it’s actually a serious pain in the ass and a dangerous topic to ignore.

Even the other guys laughed at my bad jokes to keep things upbeat.

“Athena, are you going swimming in the ocean with us today?”

“Naw, I don’t want to be the one held responsible for chumming the water from my friends.”

They didn’t make be feel judged or pitiful for not being able to keep up, they simply took the bags I was carrying and slowed down so I could continue to be part of the conversation as we hiked back to the cars one day. Or offered to lift the heavier boxes when the jeep needed to be loaded up.

But did they let me off easy when it came to chastising me? Not a chance. Understandably, they complained about my lack of information updates until now. Rightly so, they called me on my seeming inability to ask for help, or accept it. And also correctly they reinforced, lovingly, that I can’t allow my decisions for my health to be driven by my work, or doctors that don’t communicate my options.

But mostly, I was reminded that I don’t have to be alone on this. They are there for me.
Two dear friends offered me a places back in Alaska rent free to relax and re-stabilize my health. Sanctuary. Stress-free and full of love.

Others offered help with finances, counseling and the ever needed ear or shoulder.

Since then other friends from the early years of Alaska have made plans to come stay and visit, keep me company when I’m not my strongest physical form. Staggering their stays to be companions and offer support.

I suspect my house will be full of rotating guests until December.

I returned from Manzanita recharged. The day I left the beach was the first day of not bleeding since February and it has become a full 5 days. Which is a record that makes me feel a little like a Rock Star in energy and newfound resolve. The increase in my hormone medication created a window of side-effects but the result of not fearing I would faint from blood loss was well worth the nausea and giant swollen limbs and cheeks.

I came home full of joy from the coast. Contented happiness from spending time with my friends. And I found that when I stepped back in my house, I had a newfound sense of resolve and willingness to beat this thing back and retrieve my health.

Therefore, I am meeting with a specialist tomorrow. She will effectively be my 4th opinion and I intend to weigh all the information I’ve gotten so far with what she tells me and come to a decision about my course of surgery and/or treatment. I suspect it will be a pretty emotional appointment.

I will keep you posted on what she says and what I intend to do about it.

As for now, I am peaceful. I am contemplating a lot. Feeling better than I have in months (it’s amazing what 5 days of not losing a pint can do) I’m ready to try to treatments and I am ready to consider what needs to be done to regain my health with a truly open mind. Thanks, guys!