Its FRIDAY!

So yesterday I cam home to a great big letter from my insurance company stating they’ve denied my physician’s request to perform hypogastric plexus nerve block injections for my pelvic pain. He’s had numerous Endometriosis patients have great results with this procedure and their pain.

Why did my insurance deny it? It wasn’t considered a medical necessity. And the only medical necessary reason they approve this procedure? Patients who are suffering from pain due to cancer. We have 180 days to appeal the decision.

I read the letter. My heart sunk a bit. But then it flip-flopped. I took a deep breath and had a talk with my husband:

1. Did I really truly want these? I still don’t know the answer to that question;
2. I have a meeting with my gyno/excision surgeon, Dr. Kurtulus, on February 4th to discuss my symptoms, pain, and desire for a peek under the hood, any needed excision, and a hysterectomy (suspected Adenomyosis)
3. Will this denial letter bolster that decision-making process?

So I wrote a letter to my pain management doctor today to inform him of the insurance’s denial and the lack of CONSTANT pain. Maybe it’s not a horrible thing? I did ask if he’d like to appeal or wait until after my February 4th meeting with Dr. K to discuss an appeal. We shall see.

But what did I learn last night? That quick deep breath and analysis took away the strife of receiving a denial letter. Which leads me to today’s quote:

“Free your mind and be in flow of life’s ups and downs. Be accepting of wherever you are on your journey”
― Karon Waddell

Wherever you are, take that deep breath, find some acceptance of it, see if you can sway it at all. If not, accept it. Let it wash over you. And if you need help, I’m right here for you. Always.

Much love,

Lisa

Today I am not feeling well. It’s not Endo – related, but I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck and I’m exhausted and all I want to do is stay in bed.

So I took today to stay in bed. I have very limited sick days at work, would have come to understand the value of honoring your body when you can.

And I want to remind each and every one of you to do the same. We only get one life, one body, one chance. So take care of it in any way you can.

May you have a wonderful weekend.

Much love to you.

Oh man, it’s been a while since I’ve posted one of these! I had a few weeks off of work for the holidays and man I enjoyed the R&R. But I do apologize for my lack of Feel Good Fridays.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had several painful days between now and last August. I fear my Endo is back, or maybe it’s something as simple as adhesions, but damn it hurt. And my partner has had to watch me as I suffer, which hurts me even more. I’ve tried to hold onto the plan that I’ll be having another surgery this year to look for new lesions and hopefully have that hysterectomy (to manage the suspected Adenomyosis and period cramps). I’ve tried to keep positive and strong. But some days I failed.

And I’ve faced the hopelessness of not having medications that deal well with my pain. Naproxen is an NSAID that sometimes doesn’t work. Heating pads, ice packs, herbal pain sprays, etc. sometimes don’t work. I cannot afford regular acupuncture, pelvic floor therapy, massage, or other holistic treatments. I’ve grown sad during the painful days, at my lack of control, just succumbing to the pain. I’ve cried at appointments, had long talks with the husband, and shared with close friends. I don’t really hate my body or this disease, but I had grown to hate my inability to fight it.

But this week I had a consultation with my pain management doctor and after a very lengthy meeting, discussion, review of symptoms, and a heart-to-heart, he graciously agreed to fill a very small prescription for Tramadol: the one pill that doesn’t make me loopy or sick and does handle my high-pain days. And we’ll be scheduling nerve block injections once my insurance approves them.

I wanted to cry and hug that man. I mean, I didn’t do either because we’d just met. I was severely overwhelmed with relief. And hope. And the ability to go to work, function, and wade my way through the coming pain-days. Light at the end of the tunnel. Surgery will be coming, but I will now be able to push through the days before then.

So I wanted to take a moment to remind you…and myself:

In the darkest days, when you feel alone and hopeless, try to find a small speck of light to cling to. Reach out and find a hand to hold. Mine is always here if you need it. We will make it through this darkness together.

Just a little spark of hope can ignite so much life. I love you guys. Thank you for being here with me on my Journey, and for holding my hand and walking me through, too. May I always be there for you.

It’s FRIDAY!

It’s DECEMBER! What?!? ALREADY?

Today’s quote is brought to you by Erin…a good friend of mine who’s been there for me during my Journey.

“Don’t let the entire staircase overwhelm you. Just focus on that first step. One step at a time…”

Literally, take it one step at a time, one day at a time, one small victory at a time, or one battle at a time. And know that you’re never alone. We can grace these stairs together.

Love, Lisa

Happy Friday! The end of the week (another one?!)! I hope that you’re all able to have a wonderful and fulfilling weekend.

My husband and I have been attending twice-a-week yoga classes through a local community college, and it’s been great. This past Tuesday, we did our first guided meditation in the class: find yourself in your favorite natural setting. Of course, I was in the mountains, propped on a log sitting in front of a campfire at dusk. Then our instructor threw in a body of water nearby, so I walked toward a lake. Laying on the shores was a bottle with a message inside. I popped open the bottle, pulled out the message, and unfurled it.

It was a message to me, from me.

And it was four words, written in incredible, beautiful calligraphy (which I don’t do, by the way):

“Everything will be okay.”

I took a moment to soak that in, then opened my eyes in the darkened classroom and just let the words wash over me. Everything: finances, my Endo, the colon polyp biopsy, next year’s possible surgery. Everything. Everything will be okay.

It was weird: crying silently in a blackened room with six other people laying down nearby on their respective yoga mats, oblivious to what was going on in my head. I can’t even explain the relief that flooded over my being. I wiped my tears, took a few deep breaths, and closed my eyes.

And that mantra has been something I’ve now whispered to myself every day since.

May it work it’s way into your thoughts today, too.

Much love, Lisa.