I always look forward to the end of the year, as in man, am I glad that’s over. On the other hand, I don’t look forward to the coming year nor do I believe it’ll be any better — unfortunate, but that’s been my experience in the recent past, though 2009 was definitely better than 2008. I’m hoping the trend will continue.

The reason I have a hard time looking forward to the new year is because for me, it’s fraught with medical appointments: the annual physical and pap smear, which most people go through; eye check-up, again, which a lot of people go through; twice a year dental cleanings, which many people have and that I just started having and as cool as my dentist is, am still dreading; and now that I’ll be 41, another mammogram, which most women have (hopefully) but it’s yet another thing. Then there’s my annual ultrasound to check the size of my uterine fibroid and please, please, please, not another colonoscopy! You’re not even supposed to have one until you’re 50 and I’ve had 2 before I turned 40! I can’t remember if in 2008 the CRS said I wouldn’t need another for 10 years or until 2010.

Either way, I want a CRS closer to home, and since I’ve been having some IBS issues lately, I still have no choice but to see one. Or is it a GI doctor that I need to see? Again, either way, I have to find one or both.

I’ve had problems with my ears since childhood. You know how they test your hearing in grade school? Well, I never quite passed. I was plagued with ear infections and had 3½ pairs of tubes at different times. The ½ pair was a larger tube and was only necessary in one ear. Now that I’m getting older, I swear, my hearing’s starting to go. Brian never seems to have trouble hearing the TV but I do, and this has been going on for a few years now. I clean my ears daily, so it isn’t that. It’s probably time to see my ENT who I’ve known and loved since I became his patient when I was 22, though I first started seeing one at age 13. Funny: the first one TALKED LIKE THIS and my current ENT is soft spoken.

Then there’s this minor eczema-type thing that’s been bothering me and that I’ve already seen the doctor for, but it. Won’t. Go. Away. And I’ve either developed tendonitis in the ankle I sprained badly last spring, or it hasn’t fully healed. Do I see a dermatologist and an orthopedist in my future? I hope not.

I must sound like a complete hypochondriac but the sad thing is, all of this stuff is real and some of it I’ve been blowing off because I’m sick of doctors, so I plod along with these symptoms that make me miserable.

I’ll be continuing my weekly therapy and monthly pdoc appointments, but those have been integrated into my day-to-day life so in my view, skewed though it may be, they “don’t count.”

The one good thing about all this is that we have excellent insurance benefits. Even so, I’d rather not have to use them.

Brian and I met with the Interventional Radiologist yesterday to go over my pre-surgical MRIs I had done last week and to discuss whether or not I’d be a good candidate for the uterine embolization. Well, I’m not. The doctor said that because of the small size of the fibroid (1/3″), he doesn’t believe it’s causing the emotional or the physical symptoms I’m experiencing, so now I’m back to square one. He conjectured that the emotional stuff are signs of a classical depression — tired all the time, increased appetite, and son on; but couldn’t explain the periods every two weeks, constant bloaty feeling, the length of my periods, etc.

I already have my regular appointment with the pdoc scheduled for Monday, and now I’ll be seeing the PCP in a couple of weeks to figure out what to do next. In a way I’m disappointed about this outcome because I thought it would make these awful emotional and physical feelings go away. I’m still somewhat bedridden and definitely housebound. On the other hand, I’m relieved about not having to have more surgery/medical procedures done.

Maybe I’m wrong, but if the fibroid isn’t feeding the depression, then the ECT isn’t working. These last two sessions have been six weeks apart, so maybe I’ll have to have them every four weeks again. I just don’t know. All I know is that I’m sick of feeling the way I do.

Brian took me to see the pdoc on Monday, who was all for having the fibroid removed. Like the PCP said today, there’s no guarantee that it’ll “cure” my depression, but since it isn’t a major surgery, then why not? The pdoc also said that my affect is good, meaning that outsiders, even friends, family members, my teammates, anyone who knows me fairly closely, would never know that I’m suffering from depression — except for Brian, of course, because he sees me at home. The pdoc pointed out that I can laugh as easily as anyone who isn’t suffering from depression, that I’m not even faking it, that my smiles and laughter are genuine. Ironic, isn’t it?

My symptoms, he said, are more behavioral: the trouble getting out of bed, getting in the shower (both of which have improved), getting out of the house on my own (still needs work). He suggested having the fibroid taken out after my next ECT, which is scheduled for December 3. His thinking is that he wants me to have any little thing that might help my depression before the surgery.

We saw the PCP this morning, who said the best course of action is to have the fibroid embolized. I’m not even sure that’s the right term, but basically, the surgeon makes maybe a couple of small incisions and cuts the blood supply off to the fibroid, so they aren’t actually removing it, but it may still go away on its own. I guess as long as it isn’t getting any blood, it can’t function. I’ll need either another ultrasound or maybe an MRI before any surgery is scheduled, and he isn’t sure which surgeon he wants to do it or at what hospital. Although my PCP is affiliated with Death Star Hospital, the OB/gyn surgeon there uses more invasive techniques, in his opinion. He’ll be calling us on Monday with the logistics.

Unfortunately, this means no hockey until probably after the first of the year, but there’s always the Air Hockey app on Crackbook, that sometimes freezes up in the middle of a game.

I can’t stand this depressive episode any longer. Clearly the ECT isn’t helping. I’ve been putting off making this decision for a very long time, but last night I finally did it, and it was very difficult.

I’m taking a break from hockey, the one activity that keeps me out of depression and focuses my anxiety, in order to have my fibroid removed. Of course, the reason I was even able to start playing hockey again was because the ECT worked. The Seasonique, though it has cut back on my periods, hasn’t improved my depression. I’m convinced it’s some sort of hormonal thing from the fibroid that’s exacerbating this. Anyway, until this thing is gone from my body, we won’t truly know if the ECT is helping. It was before, so it makes sense that it’s this stupid fibroid and that once it’s gone, the ECT will work again.

I’m angry about being so depressed that I’ve been housebound for the last several weeks and it’s a huge chore just getting in the shower. I don’t even know how I managed to hold up in Las Vegas, other than that we were surrounded by family. Here it’s just my sister and her husband, and my mother, all of whom have lives of their own. We get together every so often, but no one stops by every day, even for just a few minutes.

Yesterday, I knew things were really bad when I couldn’t get myself to accompany Brian to drop off and pick up Basil from the vet for his cardiac ultrasound. I didn’t even have to drive, all I had to do was sit in the passenger seat, and the place is literally five blocks away! That’s when I knew.

I’m angry that I have to stop playing hockey, but I know it isn’t forever, and I’m hoping I’ll be back on the ice after the holidays. Other people have had to stop playing for a while, so why should I be any different? Maybe it doesn’t hold as much sway for them. I don’t know.

I do know that I need time to think, to write, to blog. There’s been so much going on and blogging about it has helped in the past. I’ve been keeping too much inside, withdrawing from people. Always having a big smile to both the online world and the world outside my apartment when I manage to venture out. I can’t anymore.