Knit, Purl, Whatever

This semester has been killing me, so I apologize for any prolonged absence. Lots of things have happened this month. I had my 25th birthday. I went to a Stone Temple Pilots concert. I got in a car accident that left my car with many thousands of dollars of damage and a need to sue the woman who refuses to pay...

My cousin is also getting married soon, and my sister is the maid of honor. She can't take her boys with her to the wedding, so I'll be taking care of my two nephews, 7 and 2 years, for about a week. Dane and I get to be like parents for a while. We'll see whether or not it forces one or both of us to get ourselves fixed.




So, I've taught myself to knit. I found a very lovely and informative website (complete with videos!) here that really helped a lot. I've managed to walk myself through a very cute pattern for a little doll dress. I'm not done yet, but it's fairly straightforward. And I have yet to stab myself with the knitting needles, so I suppose that counts as a huge victory for me!

I like knitting. I was afraid of it at first, but now that I've gotten the hang of it and I can see what awesome things just a few stitches can do, maybe I'll finally pay attention to that expanding knitting section at the book store. Knitting is becoming a very cathartic activity. Cross stitch and embroidery are like that too, but knitting doesn't require nearly so much thinking and stopping-and-starting. I can let my right brain take over quite easily.



I've also got my charms finished for the Think Pink Charms Exchange, another crafty project that benefits the fight against breast cancer. My charms are wrapped up in a Priority box sitting right next to my elbow. Dane forgot to drop it off at the post office yesterday...

Expect another post in the next ten minutes. I'm separating them because the next bit I want to post about is a self-containing topic.

Motivation

I am trying desperately to get back to sleep. I was laying in bed and dozed off and had that nap-like sleep that doesn't leave you fulfilled. I woke up when Dane got home from playing with his new birthday present with friends, a war board game called Tide of Iron that I got for him.

So, before I try to fall back to sleep, I was thinking that perhaps it's time I shared why I got involved with the Pink Artists.

My father died when I was 4. He had skin cancer, and though it was safely removed in surgery, a blood clot traveled from the surgery site to his heart and lungs and killed him. I have his very same skin type, pale and easily burned, and have already had one suspicious site removed when I was in high school. (Though, I have a really cool scar on my arm now that looks like I got in a knife fight, which is what Tanya tells me I should say to people when they ask.)

In addition to the fear of skin cancer that leads me to stay indoors and stay as deathly pale and translucent as I am, I have had an even more serious scare that prompted me to make my own square for the Pink Artists.

Around last September, a month or so before my wedding, I received a call that, while I was assured everything was just fine, still scared the living hell out of me. I'd had a Pap smear (the bane of every woman's existence, and a simple test that has resulted in me being physically ill on at least one occasion) after putting it off for a year and a half, and the results were back. ABNORMAL. Possible pre-cancerous cells on my cervix.

Though the nurse assured me everything was fine, and it was safe to wait until after the wedding for the procedure (since, you know, having your cervix cut into doesn't lend itself to a very nice honeymoon), I was still completely blown away. The very same thoughts of "It can't happen to me" and "This isn't real" played in my head as I'm sure they do for every woman who has an abnormal Pap or mammogram and is left in a limbo until things are investigated.

The first procedure, intended to be the only procedure, was going to take a sample of the cells, then freeze them off. This procedure had to be cut short because the PA could not see all of the cells, and didn't want to leave some hidden pocket of potential time bombs (to which I am extremely grateful for her caution and diligence). I was referred out to a gynecologist, since the PA was at my family doctor.

At the gyno, I had two procedures. The first there was the biopsy. I had lots of drugs in my system, I threw up, I felt like crap afterwards, I was leaking all kinds of unimaginable fluids, but it's still one of the best things I did in my life, and I was happy to hand over the ~$1000 check afterwards (having no personal medical insurance and being a self-pay patient, yet another reason to fear the worst).

Results came in that cells were indeed pre-cancerous, and time bomb-ous. If they had been left as they were, I would have most definitely developed cervical cancer at age 24. I was assured that everything would be fine, the next cryotherapy procedure would remove them, I'd have check-ups, etc etc. But even having dodged a bullet still makes you stare at the gun with fear in your eyes.

The cryotherapy went well. I opted for full conscious sedation this time since I was in a lot of pain during the biopsy due to stinging and uncomfortable tugging and vinegar draining and you don't want to know how much else contributing to my screams. About halfway through the cryo, I was reported to have asked "When are we starting?" I remember immense cold deep in my abdomen, but I spent the rest of the time in blissful unawareness, breathing in as deeply as possible from the nitrous.

I think the funniest thing throughout this ordeal was the final follow-up visit. I was taken into an exam room, asked to strip from the waist down, and wait in anticipation of the doctor. When he came in and briefed me that all was well and all pre-cancerous cells were eliminated, he then said "So, next time we'll do an examination to check how you're healing."

"Wait... so I'm sitting here on this table, naked under this sheet from the waist down... for no reason?"

"Did you want me to examine you today?"

"I'd prefer it, just so I feel like I didn't strip for nothing." He chuckled, checked my cervix, said my scarring was looking great, and sent me on my now-worry-free way.

So, I'm safe now, with instructions for a follow-up in six months, but this ordeal prompts me to give some very important advice that some women may need to open up their ears and listen to.

Get regular check-ups. There is no excuse to miss your yearly Pap or your necessary mammograms. If you don't have time, make it. Think of this as life insurance. You will be saving yourself so much possible heartache (and wallet-ache) if you keep getting checked. The one time you let your guard down could be the one time when it counts.

Love to all, and I'm so glad I could share this with you and all Pink Artists who helped in Monica's fantastic project.

Looking towards sunset

I have been quite neglectful in saying pretty much anything of late, to which I heartily apologize. I had/have three tests this week (already finished two) and have been studying my crafty little behind off. (I believe crafty behinds are particularly sparkly in comparison to non-crafty behinds.) Spring Break is next week, so my professors felt it necessary to pack everything into this week because we all know how drunk and irresponsible college students get over Spring Break. If anyone attempted to take a test after vacation, you'd see a lot of permanent liquor-induced amnesia.



So, there was a wonderful project presented over at Monica's journal, Girl Gone Thread Wild. I'm sure quite a few of you have not only heard of it, but participated in it. I was planning to send in more than one square, but the one I made was a lot more time-consuming than I expected. I used a thick green quilting thread to wrap the edges of my square (which can be seen here, precisely 22 contributors down) and it actually took close to a few hours, probably because of my self-inflicted need for near perfection. And because I joined the charity very near the end, I didn't want to risk missing the March 1st due date and so I just sent off my one square.

Besides studying and making a tiny 2x2" square, which you would think wouldn't suck up an entire week and some, I've been attempting to get a normal amount of sleep. I suspected for a time that I was pregnant, due to odd sleeping, odd random bouts of passing nausea, and some very weird dreams where I already birthed the baby and had to figure out how to tell Dane I was pregnant in the first place without his head going 'asplodey. I realize dreams are no definitive indication of condition, but I was just having so many and was seriously considering, when paired with the random nausea, if it was my body's overt way of saying "Hey! Guess what! Your college career is f*cked!" Turns out the nausea was most likely caused by the sleep dep.