Student Loans: ACHIEVMENT UNLOCKED

Folks, I'll just come right out and say it:  Andy and I started our marriage with about 65K of student debt and we haVE MANAGED TO PAY OFF OUR STUDENT LOANS.  

WAH-HOOOOOOOOOO!

All of it.  All 65K.  DONE.

WHAT. A. RELIEF.  I still don't fully comprehend it yet!

I'm not going to turn this into a "if I could do it anyone can do it!" kind of bullshit.  There was a lot of hard work, strategizing, and tough decisions that went into this, but there was also a fair bit of luck.  We are both managers at 32 and in a position that pays a living wage that also had a healthcare plan that worked for our needs--this is not a typical scenario.  Having family and friends that demonstrated kindness and support had an impact.  Not having any children, not having a expensive pet, these have also contributed.  Having good credit helped.  Living in an area with a comparatively lower cost of living helped.  

Andy and I are not the norm--Andy and I have beaten the odds.  

While my joy is deep and vast, I feel all the more firmly that I would wish this relief for all of my peers, the thousands upon thousands of Millennials disparing under their own student loans, as well as anyone who went back for a Master's degree after a certain point.  This kind of debt is a recent phenomena and not something that should be continuing.  The burden of student loans is staggering and crippling and crushing and debilitating and many, many people have frankly given up ever paying them off.  The Millennials I know want to live securely, not lavishly, as though I were talking to someone explaining depression-era dreams.  I don't know many that have dreams of millions or a yacht when affordable healthcare and rent is a much more pressing concern.

It is possible, my friends.  I won't say that everyone can do it, because life isn't so simple.  For those that need the hope, it is possible.  For those who have prayed and loved us through this process, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.  

Time to celebrate!

I Found a Grey Hair

Andy and I were coming back from a work conference recently, with all of the punch-drunk after effects that implies.  One the way home, everything was a little bit funnier, decisions were a little bit harder, and we were very much ready to finally get to bed.  Adam graciously offered to drive, which at least took the thousands of pounds of high velocity machinery out of my hands and we steadily bore down the interstate for the few hours home.  Energy began to wane for all three of us, so we elected to stop off and take a bio break.

I popped in line for some fast food and Andy stood behind me.  He reached up to the top of my head and announced "You have a grey hair!"  He pulled on the hair in question, confirming it to himself once again.

My response:  "Okay."

And that was it.  Even in my exaggerated state from the events of the day, I felt nothing about this.  Andy could have been pointing out that the particular beige color on the wall was called "eggshell."  Then, I felt that maybe I should be feeling SOMETHING.  I'm supposed to be embarrassed by this or existential dread or something, right?

Culturally, we're expected to fear getting older.  Signs like these are supposed to trigger an evaluation of self image, that particular pang of realization that everything is temporary.  Understanding our own mortality--even as a subconscious push--gives us the impetus to create, to "leave something behind."  We mark history with plaques, stories, and gravestones, afraid of being forgotten or leaving things unfinished.  We mourn the things we'll never to get do and opportunities not taken in lieu of others we did.  The quest to be remembered is a yearning for immortality, that we want to feel our lives had an importance outside of our experiencing it.

Whether this is something that is at the forefront of your mind or something just outside of your peripheral vision, mortality is a part of human existence.  An awareness of it drives some people more than others; ignoring it similarly drives some people more than others.

I'm aware of the lack of permanency in my life, where even the end of a season (whatever "season" might mean in the particular situation) does not bother me--I still have gratitude for the season that was as I move into the next.  I'm not ashamed of my age or a grey hair, even though there is a pressure to feel something about this.

Huh.

Melvin & Me, Part 27: Bodily Autonomy

Through the trauma of dealing with my disease and all of its fallout in my life, the strategies I have cultivated to keep myself safe and alive have been steadily shaped into some robust protectors.  These voices are invaluable resources when my body is falling apart; however, when things are less dire, these voices become counterproductive, more harmful than helpful.  What I mean by that, as an example, is that the parts of me that are trying to keep me safe make me very fearful to take some chances, such as trying to learn how to ride a bike.  Engaging some of those lower core muscles is VERY reminiscent of different ways I brace myself against certain pains, which puts me in a certain mental space less conducive to learning.  Outside of these emotional elements, the logical components seem to feed off of that momentum, that there are real elements of physical danger when it comes to riding a bike, particularly when you don't know how and I am not keen to break a bone again, if possible.  All told, the sum of these experiences make for a lot of white knuckles, although now at least I'm aware of what cliff to talk myself down from.

Another muscle that Survival!Larissa likes to flex is a fierce protectiveness of my bodily autonomy.  No one will force a treatement on me or make any permanent change to my body--whether it's a medication, procedure, or even a "healthier" choice for lunch--without my express consent.  This will take me from zero to sixty in an instant.  That particular sharpness doesn't give a damn about anyone else's feelings in that moment; it's all about survival.  Even the implication that I might not be doing the right things to take care of my own health will trigger that immediate anger.  "You don't know my case; you don't know the full details of my medical history; you don't know where I'm at emotionally," I scream at the hypothetical person giving me advice.  I am braced for a fight.  

So when it came to Andy's vasectomy, I have had a lot of mixed feelings about this.  I made a decision that ultimately influenced his decision to make a permanent change to his body.  It was a decision for both of us, but the change was to his body.  I feel some level of guilt, but much more gratitude, that he recognized that he was part of the team, that birth control wasn't just my responsibility.  He was the one to suggest the vasectomy--it had scarcely crossed my mind to ask, since I was so focused on protecting my body to scarcely think outside of it for a solution.  This decision helps me enjoy physically intimate time with my husband much better, that I'm not worried in the back of my mind that I messed up the birth control somehow--he has taken that worry away from us and that baggage out of sex.  

I had this same Survival!Larissa tactic flex in another arena recently, when my sister-in-law came into town with her new baby.  She had made the request that folks must be up-to-date on their TDaP vaccine (tetanus, diphtheria, and acellular pertussis [whooping cough] for those curious) before they would be allowed to hold him.  Two things hit me immediately:  1) I can understand completely why she would establish those rules and I respect her choices for her and her child and 2) the veritable roar of my subconscious that was already readying my defenses including walls, cannons, and boiling oil.

I am absolutely an advocate for vaccination.  The proof is irrefutable from any reliable source that vaccines have and continue to prevent disease and, emphatically, do not cause autism.  There are some vaccinations I cannot receive due to my Crohn's--specifically, I cannot re-up my measles vaccination.  I absolutely rely on herd immunity to protect me from these.  Surely I would extend that logic and courtesy to my nephew.  

But logic and courtesy weren't what I was feeling nor what I needed to feel in that moment.  Instead, I was on an immediate mental tirade.  How dare anyone even indirectly imply that I wasn't taking care of myself correctly?  How dare anyone try to impose a choice and change on my body?  If I have to jump through these stupid hoops just to have the privilege of being in someone's presence, maybe I'll just stay at home, thanks.

In short, I had a lot to work through and ultimately had to come up with some alternate reasons to get my booster shot prior to their visit.  I can't even bring myself to say that I did it for Keaton--it has to be for me or I cannot stomach it.  I have to give myself a selfish reason, despite my other beliefs, in order to calm Survival!Larissa voices.  There was no way to allow empathy in when those voices were so loud.  I genuinely cannot see outside of myself in those moments.  I have to protect myself.  I have to protect myself.  I have to keep the castle from crumbling again.  I can't waste away to Crohn's again.  Not again.

Not again.

The rage covers up a lot of grief and fear.  These voices that want to keep me safe, the intentions are good and wonderful, but less useful out of those situations.  I acknowledge them; I have compassion on those parts of me.  There were and are so many reasons for these voices to be here.  But in the meanwhile, I need to feel the rage, to ride it out and see what's happening at the source of it.  I need to understand that trigger better and will only do so if I allow myself to feel it.  

I do not expect this one to go away completely.  I am aware of my medical rights and will continue to exercise them.  Unfortunately, I will be in many, many more situations where they are necessary--I am an active member of my healthcare team and will continue to be.  But better honing in on when those voices are needed and when they are counterproductive, that's the trick.  

People Watching at Starbucks

Unbalanced wooden seat

Silent rain on the window

An enjoyed song played not so loud as to cancel out the rest of the sounds:
--alternate song playing from the ceiling
--coffee order announced
--parent directing their child
--another order taken
--elderly couple chatting quietly
--shuffling feet
--chair scraping
--coffee machine hiss
--friends speaking in serious tones
--student occasionally typing up another line
--rustling paper from a notebook
--laughter from the group that have too many chairs to fit around their small table

Harried and not
Unsure of where to look; watch their phone; chat with company

Wait
Go
Run to the next or wait comfortably

Raindrops pool under the umbrella

Others occupy this same chair, separated by time

Check your watch

Your life is as complex and rich as mine is.  I'm a background character in your day.  Brief proximity.  Quickly forgotten.  I am the color of the wall.

Back to our own world.

Melvin & Me, Part 26: Perks of a Colostomy

So, I did have my colonoscopy a couple of weeks ago, and I have to say it was a pleasant experience.  I know, I know I have a weird definition of fun, but maybe it's because I've had so many of these by this point that it's too familiar to be too much of a bother.

Okay, so coming up to it I was anxious.  Very anxious.  This was the first one that I have done with a colostomy which means that the rules are different.  That unknown is a flavor of unnerving.  I wanted to be in control of the situation, as a means of protecting myself--I tend to assert my bodily autonomy with a practiced kind of force.

But once I was there, I delighted in throwing people off of their autopilot.  A colonoscopy is a pretty standard procedure--however, I do not fit the normal mold anymore, by circumstance and by choice.

The tech brought me back to my room, handed my gown, and gave me instructions to strip down, except that I could leave my bra on.  I started by asking if I really had to take my underwear off, explaining briefly that I had a colostomy.

"And it's completely closed off?"
"Yep, there's no way they're getting in that way."
"...um well..."
"Do you want to go ask someone?"
"Yeah, I think I'll go ask someone."

She came back later apologizing and saying that I probably should.  I complied and then also asked if I could wear the socks that I brought that had the non-stick grip instead of the disposable hospital non-slip kind; I didn't want another pair of these to throw away.  She was also unsure about these, but made the call to allow it.

My actual nurse came in to go over paperwork with me.

"You're the one with the colostomy?"
"Yep."
"And it's completely closed off?"
"It's sealed and permanent."
"Oh, you can totally wear your underwear."
"See, that's what I thought."

The nurse who was actually going to be with me in the procedure came in to join the conversation, get the IV started.  She was talking a mile a minute but not irritatingly so.  I mentioned casually that this is the third ostomy that I've had, and she asked me to explain, which led to a long slew of interruptions where she was assuming my answers and I was patiently correcting her until we had some semblance of the truth, at least.  Finally, we got to the "wow, you've been through the ringer!" point and she seemed to slow down a bit.  I told her that I had ostomy bag changes with me in case they were needed--she suggested that we could baggie one up and bring it in there with us, which I very much appreciated.

Then anesthesia came in to have me sign that paperwork.  After their normal slew of questions and asking me to open my mouth to check my throat (in case emergency intibation became necessary), I threw my second major curveball:  "I know that you said you weren't going to be the person in the room with me, but I want to start this conversation as soon as possible:  I want to be awake for as much of the procedure as I can be."

This was immediately met with confusion, but she was quick to seek clarification and told me that she would make a note and to make sure that I have a conversation with the anesthesiologist in the room.

Eventually I was wheeled into the procedure room.  It's amazing how much more secure you can feel when you're allowed to wear your underwear in and wear your own fluffy (but non-slip) socks.  But I also had my extra ostomy supplies in my hand which helped almost more than everything else.

A tech in there was getting everything ready, wiping down the machines and the like.  Once those tasks were complete, she turned to me and said:  "Okay, now roll over onto your left side."  I immediately asked why.  She started stumbling through an answer and my nurse jumped in to explain that I had a colostomy.  She didn't know, but she was also on autopilot.  I softened a bit and cheerfully explained there was no entrance there anymore and exposed my colostomy bag.

Then, the anesthesilogist came in with "I heard you want to do something a little different."  And he then came over to really talk to me, stating that he wanted to understand what my goals were.  I felt heard and validated in that moment.  What my doctor and I had discussed was a bit of anesthesia to get started, and then having me wake back up sooner, so that I could still see everything and be part of the conversation in the moment.  He was thinking aloud, calculating his values out and I caught "Versed" in the list of medications.  I asked him if that medication was counterproductive to my goals since it stops the brain from forming new memories.  He looked at me again with new eyes, paused, and then explained with a smile that meant I was "in the club" that Versed actually had seven documented uses, which also included anti-anxiety and anti-epileptic (not that they were expecting any seizures today).  Where we ended up was a bolus of everything so I do not remember the insertion, but I was able to be very lucid at the end when they were taking biopsies.

Things were looking good.  And I got to be a part of that.  I am an active part of my own healthcare team.  And it saved my doctor from having to touchbase with me back in my room afterwards, since I was able to see things with her and run my own colon commentary.

It did start to feel uncomfortable right around the end.  I was about to say something when the camera was out.  While they were cleaning everything down, I was congratulating and thanking the team on a job well done and their patience.  I then checked around the ostomy--there was a bit of oozing around it but not too bad.  I asked for the bag to clip back on--the way it had been set down, the contents of the bag had oozed all over itself.  I suggested that we go ahead and just do a bag change.  They assured me that they could wipe it down, but I insisted that I could just go ahead and do the bag change if they could hand me the supplies.  Once again very grateful to be awake and coherent.  It's not that I don't think that they could have put the bag on well, but I know that I will put it on successfully.  Having that control made me feel so much more secure.  

I felt heard.  I felt safe.  AND I got a chance to see that my colon is looking pretty good on the inside as well as I have been feeling on the outside, which is incredibly validating.  

And bonus:  I can add a couple of items to my list of colostomy perks!

• Colonoscopy prep is SO much easier, with minimal sprinting toward the bathroom
• I can wear my underwear through a colonoscopy
• I can literally poop anywhere
• I am entirely desensitized to poop--doesn't faze me at all
• No one can pass the buck on their fart--it's not me unless there's a serious problem, yo
• I have the opportunity to remind people that not everyone faces the same situation
• I have the opportunity to share compassion with others going through significant medical or other life changes with a particular and authentic compassion by identification

And most importantly, I have a significantly improved quality of life.

Our New Favorite Sport

Andy had a tradition growing up where they would watch a great deal of sports, football and NASCAR being particularly influential forces to the Sunday routine.  My father watched football and baseball in our household, but other than the occasional White Sox game, I didn't tend to watch much with him.  Early in our dating and even into our marriage, Andy tried to get me invested in the Bears, but it just didn't seem to take for me.  More often than not, I'd fall asleep a few minutes in.  I did start paying a bit more attention just by proxy, and then started paying more attention to controversies around the players, including a lot of domestic violence, sexual assault, and a whole lot of ugly that I did not want to condone any further.  When more information about concussions started coming out, how players were literally risking their lives, I was even more turned off.  Hearing stories of how players would take pain killers before charging into the fray felt profoundly unsafe, too--pain is your body's way of telling you to STOP, not just an inconvenience to be ignored.  Andy started pulling away from football, too, over time, but Nascar was still a favorite.  Eventually, though, we had further discussions about how wasteful the sport was, how much waste and pollution was encouraged in two dozen cars going round in circles every week.  He started to pull away from that sport, too.

Well, we have found something now that we both enjoy very much:  Overwatch League.

Game-faces on! (including panda slippers)

For those unfamiliar, Overwatch is a video game.  There are a few different ways it is played, but it is always with a team of six against a team of six.  There's one where it's a team equivalent of king of the mountain, where the team is trying to take charge of the same area that the other team is, there are other maps where there is a team defending points or objects while the other team is attacking, either to conquer that area or escort the object (payload) from one area to the other.  Yes, we are watching people play a video game, and I don't see this as much different than watching athletes play a physical game on TV.  However, it has a few other great things in its favor:

• None of the players are going to be physically hurt.  No one is risking their life and health to bring us this entertainment.
• The players can choose from about seventy different characters, which means that the play is as varied as the different skills of those characters, all with vastly different abilities and powers.  Even when they happen to pick the same characters, there are different strategies to use them.  Additionally, the area that they play in, which map that they choose keeps everything fresh, where strategies that worked on one may very well not work well on another.
• So far, comparatively few of them have been involved in domestic abuse scandals or other major legal troubles.  I am not contributing to a culture that lets celebrities off of the hook from real consequences just because they throw a ball really good (poor grammar intended).
• The sport also is actively concerned with their players physical and mental wellbeing.  
• Our favored team, the Chengdu Hunters, is also wonderfully sportsmanlike, complementary of their opponents while still gearing up the excitement for the next match.  
• The sportscasters will interview players in different languages, live-translating their questions and the players' answers, better representing the wide audience that enjoys the game and the sport.  
• Guys, gals, and non-binary pals can all play together in one team.
• The players and casters can laugh at themselves.  Even in some of the screennames persons have chosen for themselves indicate some of this additional levity.  This might seem very minor, but as it stands, a lot of male sports encourage toxic masculinity in a way that is not quite so extreme here (there are definitely a few players that come to mind that break this trend).  Some of this, I think, is due to the mix of cultures present in the group, but it's such a relief to see aggressiveness in a way that's less threatening.

This is not to say that I don't still fall asleep while a match is going on or that there aren't times when I can't follow the action because of how fast some of these players' minds seem to work, but I can still recognize the skill it takes to do what they do and I look forward to having it in the background as white noise or to actively groan and cheer in turn as my team pushes forward.  

The season has just ended for this year, but it's been a lot of fun to find a sport that both Andy and I enjoy and feel better about enjoying.  

Melvin & Me, Part 26: Colonoscopy with a Colostomy

It's that time again, where I'm gearing up for another colonoscopy.  I'm supposed to have one every other year, since with my Crohn's I have a higher propensity to colon cancer than your average bear.  Parts of me don't mind--this one I'm particularly looking forward to so that my doctor and I can really see how my body is doing since my colostomy surgery.  But, the prep is going to be the same frustrating mix of ugh and misery regardless.

For those unfamiliar with colonsocopy as a whole, I would refer you back to this blog post, which outlines the basics from the last time I had one.

Here's what's different--this is my first colonoscopy I've had with an ostomy.  I have no anus to put the camera up anymore; my rectum is permanently sealed.  EVERYTHING comes out of the ostomy.  So how can I even have a colonoscopy?

Whelp, I still have a colon (albeit three fifths of one) and it still needs checking.  The exit may have moved, but the process is otherwise the same.  Rather than laying on my side to allow the team to access my butt, I think I'll be laying on my stomach, exposing Melvin by either taking off the entire bag unit or removing the bag from the flange--this hasn't been made specifically clear, even though I've asked a couple of folks.

Unfortunately, the process if very familiar, but in the same breath, everything is different now.  My prep this time is a whole bottle of Miralax and some Ducolax tablets and as much clear liquid (nothing with red or purple dyes) as I can suck down.  The day before is a purely clear liquid diet, which means I reserve the right to be hungry and cranky in my basement, with exclusive rights to the bathroom and tv.

With the prep process before, when everything was "normal" in terms of typical egress, I had a couple of moments every time to rush to the bathroom, where I felt the heavy rumble settle ominously in my pelvis and new that I needed to find a toilet immediately.  Lots of frantic shuffles to the bathroom.  But I have no sphincter control for Melvin:  everything comes out as it's ready, as peristalsis moves it through my system.  This eliminates the need to run to the bathroom, but the new concerns are A) ensuring that there is not a leak, since this would be a CATASTROPHIC leak and B) emptying the bag frequently.  In some ways, it is more convenient, but still annoying.  The ominous rumble is still there (and general malaise from shedding so much fluid), but I can saunter over to the bathroom to empty out the sloshing bag as I need to.  And my butt isn't chaffed at ALL.  This time, the anxiety has been the unknown rather than urgency.

Here's what else is different:  the truly scarred and angry parts of my colon are gone, the areas that were unyielding and particularly painful, this new reality coupled with my intellectual curiosity means that I have requested to be awake for the procedure.

Other countries do this as the norm--without the anesthesia, you can return back to your day immediately after.  It's more of an uncomfortable pressure than it is a true pain, assuming that you don't have the kinds of problems that I had around my sigmoid colon and rectum.  I have very contently been unconscious for those that were sure to be painful.  But this one, I want to see.  In fact, at Mayos prior to the last connection surgery, we did a mini-scope in the office to check where I had been partially reconnected and I was fine through that process.  I want to talk about things in real-time instead of the pictures afterward.  My doctor recommended that maybe we use some elements to get started, but that she would be fine with me being awake for the end, basically the pulling-out part of the camera where she is also taking the biopsies.  I want to really see how things are looking as they are moving with my breath and my hand against my abdomen pressing down.  These parts of my body that have caused me such anxiety, pain, frustration, and all else, I want to see them for how they are, have compassion for their real face.  Comment on the pseudopolyps (basically pillars of scar tissue), the color of certain spaces, watching it move, I am truly excited about this.

Almost makes the misery of the prep worth it.  Almost.  Well, we'll find out soon enough--I'm heading there early this afternoon.  Just a little more prep to power through yet this morning, with all the nausea and blech that implies.