If it's not one thing, it's another

Another week has passed without much in it. It was a week. It came. It went. I've been debating with myself about whether or not to write about an event which occupied several days in the beginning of the week. It's embarrassing, but what the hell. And anyway, why should a hemorrhoid be embarrassing? Lots of people get them. I never thought I'd be one of them, but then, I never thought I'd have thyroid disease. Hypothyroidism causes constipation. I had trouble with that when my thyroid first conked out three years ago, but as soon as my thyroid levels stabilized it went away and I wasn't troubled with it again until about a month ago. Once again, I blame Dr. G -- if he had listened to me in the first place, I never would have had this hemorrhoid problem. The T3 is helping, but it came too late to prevent the eruption.

It began last week. I felt some pain in the relevant area, but it wasn't bad and I ignored it until it went away. Then on Sunday, after the constipation had already gone away, suddenly it happened. I knew instantly what it was, and when I went to Wikipedia to read up on it I learned that they usually go away in a few days, so I resigned myself to a few days of discomfort. Discomfort? Oh my God, the pain! All day Sunday, all night Sunday night (I slept about two hours), all day Monday. On Sunday night I kept getting up and sitting in a few inches of water in the kitchen sink, since I haven't got a bathtub. Sitz baths are supposed to help, but I didn't really notice any improvement. I'd planned to go to the Urgent Care on Monday if it wasn't any better, but they were closed for Memorial Day. On Tuesday morning the pain was better, but the thing wasn't any smaller than it had been on Sunday, so I decided to go into the Urgent Care before work. I felt a bit silly going to the Urgent Care for a hemorrhoid, but the thought of sitting at my desk all day was more than I could bear. I was even willing to show the hideous thing to a doctor if that would lead to relief. The doctor took one look at it and said, "Oh! Ouch! That looks really painful!" You're telling me. He told me it was large enough that it should be "evacuated," and he explained that it would be a simple office procedure done with a local anasthetic. He made me an appointment for later that morning at the surgery center of the clinic.

I went home feeling weepy and sorry for myself, stopping at Rite Aid on the way to pick up the enema I was told to do before the procedure. What fun. As I drove to the clinic later I sank deeper and deeper into self-pity. It really has been sort of one damned thing after another in the last six or eight months, and I suppose it was simply time for me to reach the "why me?" point. I pulled into the parking lot and idly glanced across the street, where I saw the sign, "Cancer Center of Santa Barbara." Okay, let's put this into perspective. I have a hemorrhoid. I'm not on my way into the clinic for my weekly dose of chemo. And yes, I'm afflicted with Hepatitis C and poverty and drudgery and various other of the ills which beset mankind, and I have half the pharmacopeia on my bedside table, and it hurts to sit down, but despite all of that I'm healthy and walking upright and able to take care of myself. The self-pity gave way, if not to gratitude, at least to acceptance, and I was able to walk into the surgery center with something approaching equanimity. I met with another doctor, who also looked at my ass but who had a rather different reaction than the first doctor. He said I probably didn't need surgery. He told me that hemorrhoid surgery is one of the most painful surgeries there are. It would be done under general anasthesia and I would probably have to take three or four days off work to recover. Not to mention the pain meds. I'm terrified of pain meds. I hope I'm never faced with having to take them. I know a lot of recovering addicts who have taken them and not relapsed, but I don't want to be faced with that particular hurdle. Anyway, the doctor told me that the pain would gradually lessen and the hemorrhoid would slowly shrink. He said that if it wasn't significantly better in a week, then I might need the surgery. Phew! It's significantly better already.

So that's my hemorrhoid story. Once again, I've digressed from the point of this blog, but if I wrote solely about my experiences with Interferon I'd have very little to say. I got a bit more nervous than usual before I did my shot last night, and I had more anxiety than usual after it, I don't know why. I was nervous before I began the treatment, naturally, so my sponsor offered to come over and give me my first shot. She's a nurse, and it was comforting to watch her do it. Nurses are so matter-of-fact about these things. She just put the needle on the syringe, swabbed my thigh, stuck the needle in and pushed down the plunger. And it was all over. I'm not sure I would have been able to stick myself if I hadn't seen her do it first. My first solo shot was difficult. It had been a long time since I'd handled a syringe, but for some reason I didn't think I'd react to the feel of one in my hand. I did. It brought up all sorts of bad memories. Also, even though I'd spent years sticking myself with needles, I could barely bring myself to stick this particular needle into my thigh. It took about five minutes of slow breathing before I was able to do it. Once I'd done it the first time, it lost some of its terror, and each week since then has been better than the last, until yesterday. Still, even last night wasn't as bad as the first time. I'm getting used to it.

One last item before I sign off. I've felt tired for two weeks now, and I think I can say, officially, that I'm having a side effect. I was so sleepy on Wednesday that I barely made it through the work day, and I nearly fell asleep at the meeting I went to after work. I was in bed and asleep by a little after nine. When I first started the treatment my friend told me that she slept a lot during her treatment, and I found it hard to believe because I was having so much trouble with insomnia. I still have some insomnia, but I'm also tired most of the time. This morning I slept until nearly eight, which is unheard-of for me. And I'll just have to get through it without help. I can't drink coffee unless I'm willing to put up with anxiety, so I'm on my own. I may have to shuffle things around on my schedule to make room for more sleeping.