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So I am writing this from the islands, I am on a ship, so I will post a pic of one of the fabulous places I go to when I need free wifi, this is Evita’s little Italian Restaurant in Jamaica. They put a jamaican spin on italian food, it was wonderful and I thank God and my lucky stars that I am alive and able to travel and work in such gorgeous places. Right now I’m in a burger king in the grand caymen islands but you can walk outside your door and see that! HA!

So, OK, we were talking about my cancer experience and we were at the HMO part…..You know what HMO really stands for? I’m jewish so it means, How Much? OY! But it really comes from the phrase , “HEY MOE .” See, when Moe of the Three Stooges, was playing a doctor….Paging Dr Howard, Dr Fine, Dr. Howard. He discovered that a patient would forget the pain in his foot if he was poked hard enough in the eye. Works every time. So poke me!

I wanted to use my own doctor that found the cancer, but she was out of network. (yes I said she in case you hadn’t noticed before! Thank you very much) If someone’s pulling out my frigging organs, I want them to have played a tune with those same organs….

Now with an HMO, you can choose the doctor you want. But it’s a little difficult. Kinda like choosing the ass you want. If you don’t want the one god gave ya, ya gotta pay for a different one. no backsies.
So, like I said, I wanted to use my doctor, but the HMO of course wants you to use their doctors. Their doctors basically fall into two categories. Drs. who are no longer accepting new patients, and doctors who are accepting new patients, but don’t participate in the friggin’ HMO. And then, I found a doctor who is still in the HMO and it’s a woman, and accepting new patients and has an office just 134 miles away, which is the closest one with all the things I wanted, and as I discovered when I got there, a diploma from a third world country I’ve never even heard of. But, she did say she could perform the hysterectomy right in her office as an out patient and considering that all I’d be paying is a $20 co-payment, I was thinking of giving it a shot. But, then I started thinking of the thing that might go wrong and who wants to wake up and find out they took out way too many things and maybe put things you don’t want back in? Like a sponge. At least I could clean up after I eat. LOL! So I decided I would stay with my doctor and pay the out of network percentage…which is why I’m working here today, writing this blog and which is why you need to buy 742 dvds from my website. Thanks very much

OK, back to the mri, yes, they found it, it’s small, it’s contained, let’s go get it right now. But the decision was to take everything out, ya just never know when that one pesky vicious cancer cell sneaks into the pond, swims upstream and decides to bake in the sands of my ovaries.

So now, I’m in the hospital, the handsome male nurse says, while hooking up the IV…“You’re just gonna feel a little prick…..” really, how sad for you, and no thanks I’m married. Then I don’t remember a thing, but I woke up and doc says my surgery went well, ya da ya da It’s all good….Can you really ya da ya da cancer surgery? Seinfeld would be so proud.

I’m appropriately dressed in a gown that fits like my mothers moo moos, all I need are the worn furry slippers and some knee hi roll up nylons and I’m her……of course I’m waiting for coffee and cake, cause I really am her. I wake up, I fall asleep, I’m awake, I’m asleep, I’m awake, I mumble stupid stuff, I drool, I’m asleep….Then I’m out (sleep/coma) then I’m up… cake? Then I’m out…. I stay overnight.

Next morning, I’m up but not real alert, but I’m eating. A gals gotta eat and they brought breakfast. I’m only eating a bite here, a bite there, but I have no idea, they’re not supposed to give me any solid food until I pee, take a poop, pass some gas all the stuff ya gotta do or ya can’t go home…..And none of that’s happening. But I’m eating, and I want to get out. Not one for sitting around in hospitals. Heck, I’ve been been here a whole day, SEND MY BUTT HOME.

So they have you get up and walk right away now. No laying around. I’m schleping down the hall in this gorgeous outfit, but I’m not pooping, not in the hall, not in the toilet. And just when they said, ok, we’ll send you home with laxatives, I am suddenly in excruciating pain……I am doubled over and can’t even crawl back into bed.

Now they tell me it’s probably gas and the fact that I haven’t gone to the bathroom in a couple of days…..And the problem is, they don’t really want to give me pain meds cause I’m backed up, and pain meds constipate ya, but I’m in so much pain and I don’t give a $#!t that I can’t take a $#!t!!!! what a catch 22 I’m in.

Now I’m pretty stoic with a high pain tolerance, but this was really bad. So my doc talks me into staying one more night, and since I can’t even stand up, let alone walk, I say, ok. Yeah, I’m a good sport, and not an idiot!

Next day, I’m feeling a little better, walking, of course like a 112 year old woman….but I’m walking, I’m talking, I’m dragging the friggin pole with the bags, and I talk them into letting me go home, cause I don’t want to pay the co pay for the Sheraton Palace Hospital which is understaffed and feels like a morgue it’s so empty and silent.

So home I go. (Now before I forget, let me again remind you that I am at a hospital that is closing down due to financial problems and is being run by a skeletal crew of dr’s and nurses. and I am one of the last patients to be seen) I don’t mean seen alive, I mean treated. There are only 2 other patients even on my floor, the staff is limited but it is where my doc worked and it’s her last days here too. She loved this place, fought to help keep it open, and I had every confidence in being there. But, you need to know this to appreciate the rest of this story.

So home I go. My two sister-in-laws were extremely helpful, one is a nurse with more letters after her name than the doctor, and she brought 5 different kinds of laxatives for me, she bought every laxative known to man, and some not. Then every dried fruit and herb and tea with “laxative” qualities. . I was afraid I would end up with a nuclear launch that would blast me thru the ceiling if I didn’t get a seat belt to hold me to the toilet. But NOoooooo, none of those worked. The other one came to help me in the house and stay with me and to give me an accupresure session. Our family is full of fabulous accupressure practitioners. But after a day I sent her home cause I didn’t want her sitting and watching me do nothing but waiting for the wind.

I was so great when I came home, mainly you are just so happy to be alive and in your own house you forget everything else. But by the days end, I was a bitch, the gas pain and the inability to do the doody deed, turned me into Godzilla. It was a very bad night, and I was so mean to the hubby, jeez, I wanted to stab him in the eye with a bottle of senekot….and the doc said don’t take the pain pills it will put you back to square one with the constipation, you’ve squeaked out a teeny bit of gas so your colon is starting to work…….hang in there, take the laxatives, the gas pills, some ibuprofen, drink water, yada yada… and that’s when I started wishing everyone dead. Then I did pass a little gas But, the gas had no steam, had to hold my butt open to fart. It was like a tropical breeze trying to push in a castle door, a bolted heavy door…. If you never had gas then you don’t get it. But who hasn’t had gas? I wanted to hear….”Lets get ready to rumble”… and the sound of explosions in my ears…. But not a squeak did I get, nor a poop did I do. Finally I passed out for the night.

So let me leave you here and next week you can wake up with me and finish the fun journey….. Thank and hang in there, whoo whoo, just like the perils of Pauline!

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