I know a lot of time has passed since my last blog. Well a lot of time for me, who feels the compulsive need to share every detail that's going on in my jumbled head. Somehow, in the weeks following my exchange surgery, I changed. I saw my PS 6 days after, she pronounced me fine and scheduled an appointment for a follow up at the end of April and we'd start discussing fipples. So, I put my new foobs in the back of my head and proceeded in my busy schedule. 2012 is going to be a big year for me. I've got clinicals starting in September, my first summer trimester I've ever had to go to school, I've got to save up money for the summer trimester since I'm about 95% sure Finanical Aid won't pay so for the first time in my life I'm actually becoming semi-responsible with my money. (Which translates into me not making a bee-line for the Coach store when my tax refund came in). I've got my 10 year high school reunion in August (dear Lord, I'm old) and my sister's wedding in June. Not to mention the fact I do want to try to go to the national FORCE conference in Orlando in October, on top of starting the FORCE group in Memphis. WHEW! I'm exhausted just typing it!
It's no wonder that I came down with a cold last week. Since I get free health services from UT (the med school next to my school) I went to the doctor there. The meds he gave me really helped, so I was a little surprised when this past Friday I started to feel bad. I tried to put it to the back of my mind, and just drank an extra cup of coffee and took some cold medicine. By Friday around 4 pm, right when my break at work was scheduled I happened to brush against my left foob as I was moving my hands. Uh-oh....I could feel heat radiating through my shirt.
I hurriedly raced to the bathroom and lifted my shirt up and nearly burst into tears. My left foob had a very noticeable area of pinkness at the bottom that was hot to the touch. I reached for my phone and called the PS office and spoke with the nurse. I explained what had happened and she asked me to text her pictures of my foob. I took her cell number down and had the fleeting thought that this was the first time in my life I had ever snapped topless photos of myself and texted them to someone.
She called me back, told me not to worry, and that she was calling me in some Levaquin. I went back to work, but was feeling increasingly worse. On my lunch break I went and picked up my Levaquin and stopped to get dinner. I could barely eat, but I took the Levaquin and went back to work. Thirty minutes later I was shaking badly, hot, had a headache and was nauseated. I called into my supervisor to let them know I was logging out. I think I freaked Mike out a little who kept asking me if I needed to go to the hospital. I told him I was taking a shower and going to bed (this was at 7:20)
I slept fitfully that night and didn't feel too much better when I woke up. I was scheduled to work at 2:00 pm and had planned on staying in bed until then. Mike left for work, telling me to call him if I got sicker. About 30 minutes later I went into the bathroom and cautiously lifted up my shirt.
Holy crap.
My left foob was almost completely pink, and swollen to about twice the size of my right foob. It felt almost constricting, like someone was squeezing my implant. I didn't want to call the on-call doctor right away, because I knew what the response would be. The nurse had given me her cell phone number and told me to call or text with problems. I texted her to tell her what was happening and she replied saying she'd call my PS. The nurse called and advised me to call the on-call doctor. So I did, and I got the answer I knew I would. Go to the ER. The doctor then told me that he was going to check my infection out, get me on IV antibiotics, and I should come prepared for him to admit me. Fantastic. My gut reaction was "I don't have time for this!" but I just said ok and called Mike to let him know. I told him to stay at work and that I'd get my Mom to take me to the hospital. I called my mom and the conversation went something like this:
Me: Hey what are you doing?
Mom: Just got out of the shower.
Me: Well do you have any plans today?
Mom: Not really, why?
Me: Well can you take me to the hospital?
Mom: Ok I'll be there as soon as I get ready.
Now, granted most people would immediately start freaking out wanting to know why you were having to go to the hospital and wondering if you should go via ambulance. But my parents have gone around this block plenty of times and I'm beginning to think a phone call like this is expected of me every now and then..
My Mom took me to the ER which surprisingly had an empty waiting room so we were taken straight back. I got examined by the ER doctor and then the on-call PS who had said he'd meet me there. He said I needed to be on IV antibiotics and that he'd admit me. Then he said he'd consult with an infectious disease doctor and let him decide whether I needed to go home with a picc line or what. He also said that by Monday they'd be able to see if I was responding well to the IV antibiotics or if I needed surgery. They took blood, and determined my white blood cell count was 18,000 (normal is 10,000-11,000) It was official- I had an infection.
I was hoping to go home Monday, since it was determined that I didn't need surgery and was responding well to the antibiotics. The infectious disease doctor also said I could go home on oral antibiotics instead of a picc line. Which I almost cried from relief when I heard that- to me a picc line is too much like getting chemo which I had hoped to avoid by having a PBM. When my PS (who was back in town and said that she was glad she didn't see my foob when it was bad because she would've cried) came in Monday, she said she'd let me go home in 12-24 hours after speaking with the other doctor.
Now as a side note I'd like to point out that Tuesday was Valentines Day. Mike and I had reservations at a wonderful restuarant and I had a pretty dress and was SO excited about it. I'd also like to point out that while I'm not a complete sap, I do appreciate a little romance so I love Valentines Day.
However when my PS came in Tuesday afternoon, she noticed two spots on my left foob, that were pitting slightly and still red. Almost apologetically she said "Will you kill me if I keep you in here another day?" when I reluctantly agreed, she told me she was ever impressed with my hope and my attitude about all of this. She told me that if it was her in my position she'd be a nervous wreck but that I take everything in stride. I just said "Thank you" because that kind of talk embarrasses me. I don't really think of myself as being that strong...I just see it as dealing with what God has given me! But I do want to be an inspiration and support to others, so maybe I'm headed in the right direction.
And I will say that while I didn't get to wear my dress, or eat in a fancy restuarant, my barbeque dinner from my favorite barbeque restuarant in my pjs and the candy and flowers made my day. I do love my boyfriend :)
I finally got discharged Wednesday afternoon, which brought my total days in the hospital to 5. I was given a very high powered oral antibiotic and nausea medicine (because antibiotics make me feel like my intestines are on fire). I'm glad to say that the spots are clearing and the swelling is gone. I talked to the PS today to give her the good news and am going to see her Wednesday. I'm going back to work tomorrow and back to school Tuesday. Life goes on I suppose.
Except.....there's a chance....a possibility....that the antibiotics are just suprressing the infection. If I finish my round of meds and the infection comes back, surgery becomes neccessary. And get this- when I have surgery they wait until I'm opened up to make the decision to a) wash the implant and the pocket really well, place a drain to get any infected fluid and hope for the best or b) replace the implant with an expander, place a drain, begin to fill it up, wait 3 months and exchange for another implant. Does that sound familiar? Yep-start ALL over. And the kicker is that I wouldn't know what they were going to do until I woke up. Crazy psychological freak out.
Until then I'm going to try and go about my daily business and take my medicine, say my prayers, eat my Wheaties, blah blah. There will be lots of candles lit between now and then! I'm going to TRY to push this whole mess out of my mind until I know what's going to happen,
Lent starts this Wednesday and if I could give up thinking about my mastectomy and subsequent complications I would. Even though I know that's not possible, I have a feeling my Pathophysiology class is willing to try to keep me occupied ;)
Showing posts with label exchange surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label exchange surgery. Show all posts
Friday, February 17, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
All Done?
Well it's official. I am done with expanders and on Tuesday I got my nice squishy implants! I would have posted before now, but my arms were so dang sore from the lipo! (Yes my PS graciously did lipo to get rid of the fat pockets that had accumulated under each arm since my PBM). The exchange surgery was definetely easier than any other surgery I'd had related to my foobs.
Mike and I were supposed to get to the outpatient surgery center at 7:30 am..I say supposed to because we didn't arrive until 7:50. Still we didn't wait very long until we were ushered back to the pre-op room. They started the IV and gave Mike some directions. Surgery was supposed to start at 9:00 am and at a little after 9:00, Dr Cooper and the pre-op nurse and anthesia team came back to talk. The nurse anthetist (???) gave me a shot of "happy juice" as we were going back to the OR. Of course, this whole time the pre op nurse is asking questions about me being in nursing school, and I really can't tell you the answers I gave her! Soon after we got in the OR, they do that sneaky move where the nurse gets you to breathe oxygen and the anthesiologist sneaks behind and shoots the meds into your IV and it's lights out.
When I gradually came to in the recovery room, my underarms HURT. And so did my throat. 2 days later and I still have a scratchy throat..I hope it goes away soon. I was so tired in the recovery room. I kept drifting off to sleep and barely remember Mike coming back to get me. I was even too tired to get embarrassed over the experience of being dressed by the recovery room nurse.
**Sidenote- I did notice later the nurse put my underwear on backwards. LOL**
I think I may have fallen asleep in the car. At least I don't remember half of it! Mike dropped me off in the recliner with jello and some bottled water while he went to Kroger to get my prescriptions and me some soup. I ate three bites and had to take a nap. I swear, the older I get, the more anethesia wears me out!
All in all, the pain wasn't bad. I felt some pain in the incisions but I was the most sore in my underarm area. I didn't even think of trying to touch my new foobs until later that day. When I finally did, they were so squishy! And I know they'll soften even more over the next few months. And they MOVE too. They're not completely immobile like expanders. If I turn, they turn with me. They'll squeeze together and aren't under my armpits. All in all they are a million times better than the dumb expanders!
Now, it finally comes time to decide- nipples or no nipples? And if I decide on nipples, do I get them done now or wait? Am I really ALL DONE??
Only time will tell :)
PS As far as the issue in my last post, still working on it. I'll post the outcome when I get it resolved!
Mike and I were supposed to get to the outpatient surgery center at 7:30 am..I say supposed to because we didn't arrive until 7:50. Still we didn't wait very long until we were ushered back to the pre-op room. They started the IV and gave Mike some directions. Surgery was supposed to start at 9:00 am and at a little after 9:00, Dr Cooper and the pre-op nurse and anthesia team came back to talk. The nurse anthetist (???) gave me a shot of "happy juice" as we were going back to the OR. Of course, this whole time the pre op nurse is asking questions about me being in nursing school, and I really can't tell you the answers I gave her! Soon after we got in the OR, they do that sneaky move where the nurse gets you to breathe oxygen and the anthesiologist sneaks behind and shoots the meds into your IV and it's lights out.
When I gradually came to in the recovery room, my underarms HURT. And so did my throat. 2 days later and I still have a scratchy throat..I hope it goes away soon. I was so tired in the recovery room. I kept drifting off to sleep and barely remember Mike coming back to get me. I was even too tired to get embarrassed over the experience of being dressed by the recovery room nurse.
**Sidenote- I did notice later the nurse put my underwear on backwards. LOL**
I think I may have fallen asleep in the car. At least I don't remember half of it! Mike dropped me off in the recliner with jello and some bottled water while he went to Kroger to get my prescriptions and me some soup. I ate three bites and had to take a nap. I swear, the older I get, the more anethesia wears me out!
All in all, the pain wasn't bad. I felt some pain in the incisions but I was the most sore in my underarm area. I didn't even think of trying to touch my new foobs until later that day. When I finally did, they were so squishy! And I know they'll soften even more over the next few months. And they MOVE too. They're not completely immobile like expanders. If I turn, they turn with me. They'll squeeze together and aren't under my armpits. All in all they are a million times better than the dumb expanders!
Now, it finally comes time to decide- nipples or no nipples? And if I decide on nipples, do I get them done now or wait? Am I really ALL DONE??
Only time will tell :)
PS As far as the issue in my last post, still working on it. I'll post the outcome when I get it resolved!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
And there it is...
I KNEW something would come along to make me stress before the exchange. I KNEW IT! Things cannot go simple for me. You see the counter ----> FIVE DAYS. I am so ready. That's all I can think about when I lay down to go to sleep at night, as I toss and turn trying to find my "sweet spot" that doesn't feel like I'm laying on top of a boulder. Then I think about it again when I wake up in the morning and my hand instantly goes to my chest, afraid I've damaged the expander some how in my sleep.
I'm tired of being the mastectomy girl. Well, I take that back. I'm tired of worrying constantly about infection, about leaking expanders, about whether or not insurance is going to pay for my surgery, about contracting an infection in surgery that leads to my implant having to be removed. I'M DONE!
Which leads me to the bump in the road, the snafu in my plans. I knew my doctor's office had yet to hear from either insurance company. I figured it was no big deal and that there was NO way they could deny the claim.
Wrong.
My primary insurance...who ironically I wasn't covered under when I had my PBM is covering the surgery no problem. I just have to pay my deductible ($1200) and 20% coinsurance ($235.28). My secondary insurance, which I was really looking forward to (has a $150 deductible and 10% co insurance) has apparently decided that Cowden's falls under a "congenital defect" and thus falls under their exclusions.
Umm..what?
When my PS office told me this, I immediately said, "They paid for my mastectomy!" I was told they did because of how it was coded and they could very well come back and ask for their money back. Well, I'm fairly certain that is illegal, but whatever.
In my previous dealings with the billing department in my PS office, they've been....less than helpful. Not going to go above and beyond. The first "no" she hears, and that's the end of it for her. I, on the other hand, have just begun to fight. My first plan of action is to call the insurance company tomorrow and see what's going on. If I find out it's something stupid that the billing department should've taken care of...well they'll see a side of me they haven't seen.
We'll see. Time for the gloves to come off. I've got plenty of resources and the law IS on my side:
http://www.dol.gov/ebsa/publications/whcra.html
http://www.genome.gov/24519851
All I know is I'm getting my implants on Tuesday. WOO WOO WOO! (You know it ;) )
I'm tired of being the mastectomy girl. Well, I take that back. I'm tired of worrying constantly about infection, about leaking expanders, about whether or not insurance is going to pay for my surgery, about contracting an infection in surgery that leads to my implant having to be removed. I'M DONE!
Which leads me to the bump in the road, the snafu in my plans. I knew my doctor's office had yet to hear from either insurance company. I figured it was no big deal and that there was NO way they could deny the claim.
Wrong.
My primary insurance...who ironically I wasn't covered under when I had my PBM is covering the surgery no problem. I just have to pay my deductible ($1200) and 20% coinsurance ($235.28). My secondary insurance, which I was really looking forward to (has a $150 deductible and 10% co insurance) has apparently decided that Cowden's falls under a "congenital defect" and thus falls under their exclusions.
Umm..what?
When my PS office told me this, I immediately said, "They paid for my mastectomy!" I was told they did because of how it was coded and they could very well come back and ask for their money back. Well, I'm fairly certain that is illegal, but whatever.
In my previous dealings with the billing department in my PS office, they've been....less than helpful. Not going to go above and beyond. The first "no" she hears, and that's the end of it for her. I, on the other hand, have just begun to fight. My first plan of action is to call the insurance company tomorrow and see what's going on. If I find out it's something stupid that the billing department should've taken care of...well they'll see a side of me they haven't seen.
We'll see. Time for the gloves to come off. I've got plenty of resources and the law IS on my side:
http://www.dol.gov/ebsa/publications/whcra.html
http://www.genome.gov/24519851
All I know is I'm getting my implants on Tuesday. WOO WOO WOO! (You know it ;) )
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Work in Progress
Once again I feel like time is moving so slowly. This anticipating and waiting for something to happen SUCKS. Every day when I hear my cell phone, I cringe thinking it's my PS's office telling me that the surgery will have to be put off.
I feel like I'm stuck in limbo. Like I'm incomplete. And I swear my self-esteem has bottomed out. I don't think I've ever felt this bad about myself. No boobs + extra weight from being a lazy slob for a few months does not equal a positive self image. I feel like it's hurting me in a lot of ways, like in my relationship with Mike. I just almost wouldn't blame him if he moved on to someone else, complete with real boobs and nipples and a little less weight. I mean, I know he loves me and I don't think that would happen (?)...see there I go doubting myself again. I need to be just locked in a room until my exchange.
The scary thing is, I don't even know if this feeling will go away when I have my exchange. What if I'm like this forever? Should I just send Mike on his way and join a convent? I mean I AM Catholic.
I imagine in a few years, once the scars have faded, the implants have settled, and the phantom pains have ceased I'll feel a lot better. Whenever I start feeling upset, I think about what prompted me to have the surgery in the first place. I've never lost sight of it, but I'm realizing now what I didn't realize then. The impact that it would have on my self esteem. I dodged the breast cancer bullet, but at what cost?
I think I'm suffering post traumatic stress disorder.
I feel almost bad burdening people with how I feel. I've been going on and on about this for over a year now. People I've talked to that are over and done with, in the "all done club" say they never think about their mastectomy. I'm getting there...but whenever I change clothes it's a grim reminder.
I promise to stop complaining, to try to snap myself out of it. God help me, I'm even anxious for school to start. At least then I'll have a whole new set of things to worry about. And I'll try to keep all of the reasons that my PBM was a GOOD idea in my head, and that I'll at least be around for a long, long time, boobs or no boobs.
Before I wrap this slightly depressing blog up, I wanted to direct my reader's attention to another blog. I'm not adding this to my blog roll, because it's not a "fellow previvor" but Rachel's story is inspirational nonetheless. Check her blog out at: http://www.alifecontrolledbydisease.blogspot.com/
And from here on out I promise- nothing but happy blogs :)
Happy New Year!
I feel like I'm stuck in limbo. Like I'm incomplete. And I swear my self-esteem has bottomed out. I don't think I've ever felt this bad about myself. No boobs + extra weight from being a lazy slob for a few months does not equal a positive self image. I feel like it's hurting me in a lot of ways, like in my relationship with Mike. I just almost wouldn't blame him if he moved on to someone else, complete with real boobs and nipples and a little less weight. I mean, I know he loves me and I don't think that would happen (?)...see there I go doubting myself again. I need to be just locked in a room until my exchange.
The scary thing is, I don't even know if this feeling will go away when I have my exchange. What if I'm like this forever? Should I just send Mike on his way and join a convent? I mean I AM Catholic.
I imagine in a few years, once the scars have faded, the implants have settled, and the phantom pains have ceased I'll feel a lot better. Whenever I start feeling upset, I think about what prompted me to have the surgery in the first place. I've never lost sight of it, but I'm realizing now what I didn't realize then. The impact that it would have on my self esteem. I dodged the breast cancer bullet, but at what cost?
I think I'm suffering post traumatic stress disorder.
I feel almost bad burdening people with how I feel. I've been going on and on about this for over a year now. People I've talked to that are over and done with, in the "all done club" say they never think about their mastectomy. I'm getting there...but whenever I change clothes it's a grim reminder.
I promise to stop complaining, to try to snap myself out of it. God help me, I'm even anxious for school to start. At least then I'll have a whole new set of things to worry about. And I'll try to keep all of the reasons that my PBM was a GOOD idea in my head, and that I'll at least be around for a long, long time, boobs or no boobs.
Before I wrap this slightly depressing blog up, I wanted to direct my reader's attention to another blog. I'm not adding this to my blog roll, because it's not a "fellow previvor" but Rachel's story is inspirational nonetheless. Check her blog out at: http://www.alifecontrolledbydisease.blogspot.com/
And from here on out I promise- nothing but happy blogs :)
Happy New Year!
Monday, December 19, 2011
FINALLY!!!!!!
If you pay attention you'll see the new addition to my blog over here ----->
That's right, my date for my exchange surgery has BEEN SET! The OR is all booked, pre-op photos are taken, and now I just have to wait on my insurance to approve the surgery (my doctor's office and I neither one foresee a problem), then I get to have my marking appointment and then SURGERY!
To say that I'm excited about getting implants is an understatement. I will be SO glad to have squishy soft boobs again!
Sitting in my doctor's waiting room, I saw a patient stagger in who had clearly just had a mastectomy. She moved slowly, with her arms away from her sides. She was wearing baggy clothes, no makeup, and had trouble sitting down..all while clutching a drain output sheet. She looked around a little wild eyed, as if she couldn't believe where she was.
Was that really me a few short months ago? I wanted to say something to her, but she was across the room and whisked back before I had a chance. I started thinking that you probably can't tell that I had a mastectomy 8 months ago. I looked like a perfectly healthy girl sitting in there. There is no outward sign of what I've been through.
I am so happy to finally have a date for my surgery. I have something that I can countdown too. I know I'll still have the process of getting tattoos and nipples, so I still have months left in the process. But it's all down hill from here :)
That's right, my date for my exchange surgery has BEEN SET! The OR is all booked, pre-op photos are taken, and now I just have to wait on my insurance to approve the surgery (my doctor's office and I neither one foresee a problem), then I get to have my marking appointment and then SURGERY!
To say that I'm excited about getting implants is an understatement. I will be SO glad to have squishy soft boobs again!
Sitting in my doctor's waiting room, I saw a patient stagger in who had clearly just had a mastectomy. She moved slowly, with her arms away from her sides. She was wearing baggy clothes, no makeup, and had trouble sitting down..all while clutching a drain output sheet. She looked around a little wild eyed, as if she couldn't believe where she was.
Was that really me a few short months ago? I wanted to say something to her, but she was across the room and whisked back before I had a chance. I started thinking that you probably can't tell that I had a mastectomy 8 months ago. I looked like a perfectly healthy girl sitting in there. There is no outward sign of what I've been through.
I am so happy to finally have a date for my surgery. I have something that I can countdown too. I know I'll still have the process of getting tattoos and nipples, so I still have months left in the process. But it's all down hill from here :)
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The most wonderful time of the year....
...except for the two weeks involving studying, last minute lectures, MORE studying, stressing, MORE studying, and then finally final. But it doesn't end there. There's the huddle in the hallway with the other students, comparing answers, and the waiting and stressing for your grade, and then the brillant climax when you see your grade.
I'm not including this time (Can you tell my first final is tomorrow?)
This year though, it's a little off. Some of the joy and celebration feels faked, or at the very least, forced. Whether it's that the exchange surgery is always looming in my mind (and I thought I was DONE with the stress and worry) or that this is the first holiday season without Granny. Or maybe it's that she went into the ER with lower lobe pneumonia on Christmas Eve last year.
Tonight, I read a Facebook status from my cousin about a present my grandparents got us when we were little. And it got me thinking, remembering things. Thinking about why exactly I love Christmas so much in the first place. It's the traditions I grew up with, that I remember. That's why shaped my love for the season. Here's a few of the best memories:
1- The facebook status that my cousin posted, got me thinking about a similar present Granny and Grandaddy got me when I was young. They had a book printed with me as the main character and all of my cousins and sisters in it as well. In the book, we all got to go to the North Pole. Now, how cool is that?
2- Papaw used to dress up as Santa Claus. Of course we thought Santa had made a special stop off at Gigi and Papaws house before delivering presents. We'd eat and talk and discreetly Papaw would leave the room. A few minutes later, a knock would come on the door, and lo and behold it'd be Santa with presents for each and everyone of us. I thought it was the coolest thing that my Papaw was friends with Santa!
3- This helped our belief in memory #2. A man down the street from my grandparents (to this day) dresses up as Santa and his wife dresses up as Mrs. Claus. "Mrs Claus" would be wearing a hidden mic and when she repeated our names "Santa" would hear. Imagine our shock when Santa knew our names when we went to sit in his lap! We just assumed that Santa stopped at Gigi and Papaw's house since it was so close. When we got older, we used to walk to that house EVERY YEAR expecting to see him and EVERY YEAR we were let down.
4- On the way home from Gigi and Papaw's on Christmas Eve we would see red lights in the sky and be convinced it was reindeer. We'd be rushed off to bed, and I would stay up all night, unable to sleep from anticipation. And to this day I swear I heard reindeer feet on the roof.
5- In the morning, Mom and Dad would wake us up (with the video camera). As we got older, we'd get up extra early and rush to the bathroom to fix our hair and makeup and then rush back to bed and pretend to be asleep. Like we were in a soap opera and woke up fully made up. We'd have to wait until all four of us were ready and we'd run in the living room to see what was left there. The cookies and milk we left out the night before were gone and a note from Santa was in their place (which strangely looked like Mom's handwriting).
6- After we opened our presents, we'd run to get ready to spend Christmas day with Granny and Grandaddy and the rest of our family.
7- I remember on Christmas Eve day, Grandaddy would come downstairs (in jeans and white shirt) and say "Christmas Eve gift" Apparently if someone said it to you before you said it to them you had to get them a present. I also felt like I needed to read a Christmas story, like a Christmas Carol or the story of Santa Claus.
8- Every year on Thanksgiving we'd draw names for Christmas presents. We weren't supposed to tell who got who...but by the time we were teenagers we would leave that day knowing who got who and what we were going to get. I also remember searching and searching for our Christmas presents, the Gigi and Papaw began buying in August.
Those are only a few of my favorite memories. There are SOO many more and this blog could be SOO much longer. I someday want my kids to feel the same way about the holiday season.
Now that we no longer keep up with those family traditions and I know who's behind the jolly old fat man, I feel like something is missing, I cannot wait to have kids around to keep up with those traditions.
I have managed to add some of my own though. Now that I've started going to a Catholic church, I have Christmas Eve mass. I LOVE midnight mass, but it's the only time of the year that Mike will go with me and he likes going to an earlier mass (midnight is past his bedtime)
Another thing I've added is I've started a Christmas village, This year is my first year and I'm really excited about growing it one or two pieces at a time each year.
Another thing I did (which I'm sure some people will make fun of) is get an Elf on the Shelf. No, I don't have children in the house and yes, I've named the Elf (Sparky) and move her around the house each day. And yes I said her. Its kind of a funny story. I bought a SKIRT off of EBay, thinking I'd bought the whole elf. When I found out my mistake, it was too late send it back so I figured, "Why not?"
I'm not including this time (Can you tell my first final is tomorrow?)
This year though, it's a little off. Some of the joy and celebration feels faked, or at the very least, forced. Whether it's that the exchange surgery is always looming in my mind (and I thought I was DONE with the stress and worry) or that this is the first holiday season without Granny. Or maybe it's that she went into the ER with lower lobe pneumonia on Christmas Eve last year.
Tonight, I read a Facebook status from my cousin about a present my grandparents got us when we were little. And it got me thinking, remembering things. Thinking about why exactly I love Christmas so much in the first place. It's the traditions I grew up with, that I remember. That's why shaped my love for the season. Here's a few of the best memories:
1- The facebook status that my cousin posted, got me thinking about a similar present Granny and Grandaddy got me when I was young. They had a book printed with me as the main character and all of my cousins and sisters in it as well. In the book, we all got to go to the North Pole. Now, how cool is that?
2- Papaw used to dress up as Santa Claus. Of course we thought Santa had made a special stop off at Gigi and Papaws house before delivering presents. We'd eat and talk and discreetly Papaw would leave the room. A few minutes later, a knock would come on the door, and lo and behold it'd be Santa with presents for each and everyone of us. I thought it was the coolest thing that my Papaw was friends with Santa!
3- This helped our belief in memory #2. A man down the street from my grandparents (to this day) dresses up as Santa and his wife dresses up as Mrs. Claus. "Mrs Claus" would be wearing a hidden mic and when she repeated our names "Santa" would hear. Imagine our shock when Santa knew our names when we went to sit in his lap! We just assumed that Santa stopped at Gigi and Papaw's house since it was so close. When we got older, we used to walk to that house EVERY YEAR expecting to see him and EVERY YEAR we were let down.
4- On the way home from Gigi and Papaw's on Christmas Eve we would see red lights in the sky and be convinced it was reindeer. We'd be rushed off to bed, and I would stay up all night, unable to sleep from anticipation. And to this day I swear I heard reindeer feet on the roof.
5- In the morning, Mom and Dad would wake us up (with the video camera). As we got older, we'd get up extra early and rush to the bathroom to fix our hair and makeup and then rush back to bed and pretend to be asleep. Like we were in a soap opera and woke up fully made up. We'd have to wait until all four of us were ready and we'd run in the living room to see what was left there. The cookies and milk we left out the night before were gone and a note from Santa was in their place (which strangely looked like Mom's handwriting).
6- After we opened our presents, we'd run to get ready to spend Christmas day with Granny and Grandaddy and the rest of our family.
7- I remember on Christmas Eve day, Grandaddy would come downstairs (in jeans and white shirt) and say "Christmas Eve gift" Apparently if someone said it to you before you said it to them you had to get them a present. I also felt like I needed to read a Christmas story, like a Christmas Carol or the story of Santa Claus.
8- Every year on Thanksgiving we'd draw names for Christmas presents. We weren't supposed to tell who got who...but by the time we were teenagers we would leave that day knowing who got who and what we were going to get. I also remember searching and searching for our Christmas presents, the Gigi and Papaw began buying in August.
Those are only a few of my favorite memories. There are SOO many more and this blog could be SOO much longer. I someday want my kids to feel the same way about the holiday season.
Now that we no longer keep up with those family traditions and I know who's behind the jolly old fat man, I feel like something is missing, I cannot wait to have kids around to keep up with those traditions.
I have managed to add some of my own though. Now that I've started going to a Catholic church, I have Christmas Eve mass. I LOVE midnight mass, but it's the only time of the year that Mike will go with me and he likes going to an earlier mass (midnight is past his bedtime)
Another thing I've added is I've started a Christmas village, This year is my first year and I'm really excited about growing it one or two pieces at a time each year.
Another thing I did (which I'm sure some people will make fun of) is get an Elf on the Shelf. No, I don't have children in the house and yes, I've named the Elf (Sparky) and move her around the house each day. And yes I said her. Its kind of a funny story. I bought a SKIRT off of EBay, thinking I'd bought the whole elf. When I found out my mistake, it was too late send it back so I figured, "Why not?"
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