Cordelia's Mom, Still

All Fixed (Both Meanings)

Posted on May 21, 2026 by cordeliasmom2012

Yep, you read that right.

Technically, I was “fixed” when I had my tubes tied many years ago, but now I’m 100% unable to do the deed. Which is fine by me, because at my age I’m not interested in any more kids – and as for enjoyment, there are other ways ….

I know, that’s way too much information.

Surgery for the prolapsed bladder (colpocleisis) went well, and I’m back home. No surgical pain, just a little muscle soreness; and, of course, my nether region feels like I just spent a very fun weekend with a romantic partner. I can handle that.

The surgeon and the hospital staff were awesome. Every single person – the doctors, nurses, aides, food service personnel, cleaning people, etc. – were compassionate, caring, and non-judgmental. I haven’t felt so pampered in a very long time.

It was a little unnerving when the surgeon came in and informed me that my blood clotting test was abnormal and it might not be safe to do the surgery, but they would redraw the blood and redo the test. Fortunately, the second time it came back ok. Whew! I was already prepped and hooked up to an IV.

For the surgery, I remember being rolled into the operating room and everyone moving around and moving me onto the table and positioning my arms. At one point, someone complained that something in the room wasn’t working properly. So, the very last thing I remember is asking a nurse if I would be put under soon because I was getting nervous.

The next thing I recall is waking up in the recovery room, although I didn’t really know where I was. I thought I was at home, having a dream about being in a hospital – or maybe a dream about being on a spaceship because the room was kind of long and narrow. Once I woke up a bit more, I realized where I was and that a nurse was stationed right next to my bed. There could have been a recovering patient on the other side of her, but in any event, it seemed she was caring for only one or two people. I’m not used to being watched over so carefully. It was very comforting.

Recovery took a little longer than usual because I was vomiting, even though I had been given anti-nausea medication. But eventually that stopped, and eventually I became fairly oriented, at which point my bed was rolled upstairs to a patient room.

Before going to the hospital, I had privately been concerned that I would wind up on the maternity ward since this was technically an OB/GYN case. That happened to me years ago after a miscarriage, and I recall how upsetting it was to hear newborn babies when I had just lost my own.

But for this current admission, I was in a room on the surgical wing. It was a double room, and luckily I had the bed near the window instead of the one near the door. Somehow the window side of the room just seems a little more private. My roommate was a lady about my age and was very quiet. There was a curtain between us so I couldn’t even see her until I was able to get up and walk around.

So, I should have slept well, right? That would have been nice. Unfortunately, my IV had been placed into my arm in such a way that every time I moved, the stupid machine began beeping. I felt bad that the noise would bother my roommate so I spent most of the night trying to lie still with my arm extended. And no, I didn’t ask for the needle to be moved because I’m what’s known as a “hard stick” and didn’t want to be poked over and over again while someone looked for a “good vein.”

Nonetheless, I did konk out periodically, and with some very nice drugs in my system, I felt pretty rested the next morning.

Then it was breakfast time.

Most people are of the opinion that hospital food sucks, but that was not the case at my hospital. They have an actual printed menu just like a restaurant, amd whoever’s cooking the food knows what they’re doing.

For breakfast I received scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, oatmeal, coffee and juice. Much more than I would ever eat at home. And as much as I love bacon, I never have it at home because I can’t afford it any more. Yum, yum!

I was still there for lunch, which was meatloaf, mashed potatoes (real, not instant), and fresh steamed broccoli (I can’t eat green beans, and they allowed substitutions!). Dessert was lemon ice. Again, I asked for coffee because I thought it might get my digestive system moving. I drink it black and I ordered decaf, not that you need to know that. Even the coffee tasted better than what I normally had at home, and I don’t think it was because I was on drugs.

I would definitely recommend Millard Fillmore Suburban Hospital in Amherst, New York to anyone who needs their services. Which, hopefully, will not apply to anyone I know.

But even though the hospital experience was as pleasant as it could possibly be, I’m glad to be home. The only drawback is the damn Foley catheter I had to come home with. It’s not painful, nor even uncomfortable. It’s just annoying. I can’t find any good place to hang the bag, and while I can lay it on the floor on top of a sterile pad, that’s not ideal, either, because Puppy Cody shows way too much interest in it. Sigh. But I will meet with the surgeon tomorrow and hopefully come home without that stupid bag.

This has been a long post, but I have one final thing to say:

I am truly overwhelmed by the amount of emotional support I’ve received from family and friends, both offline and online, in this country and elsewhere in the world. This surgery was fairly routine – not brain surgery, not heart surgery, not cancer. Yet so many people reached out with their thoughts and prayers, even though many of them are caring for their own family members with health issues. I’m humbled. And grateful. And feeling so undeserving. But also feeling renewed hope for us all – somehow we manage to come together to support each other despite distance, differing lifestyles and cultures, and our own busy lives. I hope that never, ever changes.

Hugs, all.

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I love to hear from my readers. You may comment on this post or email me at cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com
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Images by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalieStudio

Posted in Health, That's Life | Tagged colpocleisis, medical procedure, Millard Fillmore Suburban Hospital, prolapsed bladder, surgery | 2 Comments

Hurry Up and Die Already

Posted on May 16, 2026 by cordeliasmom2012

“Hurry up and die already!”

That’s what I’m hearing from my government and the pharmaceutical companies.

I collect $2500 a month from Social Security, out of which the US Government takes $202 as a premium for my Medicare coverage. That leaves me less than $2300 to cover all the household expenses – the mortgage, utilities, the car payment, etc. In addition, Medicare requires a 20% co-pay for my Remicade infusions – currently that 20% is just over $400 every six weeks. My annual out-of-pocket maximum for Medicare is $8,500, which is roughly 28% of my annual income.

Thank God my husband also collects Social Security, but his monthly allotment is only enough to cover his own Medicare, his own medical expenses, groceries for both of us, and Puppy Cody’s dog food and vet bills. At least we won’t starve any time soon, although we have had to cut back on all non-essentials. The government won’t help us with food; I already applied for SNAP (food stamps) and was turned down because our income is too high (really???).

Push came to shove when the utilities started to rise. As I mentioned in previous posts, I applied for and was able to receive HEAP (for heating) and EEAP (for electrical services). That helps a lot, but the medical expenses are still a struggle.

In desperation, I asked my gastroenterologist’s staff for help. Bear in mind that I’ve spent my entire life working and supporting myself and my family, without ever asking for assistance in paying the bills. It was embarrassing to be in such a position. God bless the young man in my doctor’s office who spent hours on the phone trying to find a program that would work for me.

Turned out the pharmaceutical company does not provide assistance for people who are on Medicare. However, people who are working and have commercial insurance can qualify for the free drug program. How is that fair? When I was working and had commercial insurance, I didn’t need help with my Remicade costs; now that I’m struggling and would be happy with any amount of assistance, I can’t get it.

There are private foundations set up to help with medication costs, and that young man in my doctor’s office contacted every one of them, only to learn that none of them have any money left. He even contacted my pharmacy, but since Remicade is by infusion and is a Medicare Part B medicine, the pharmacy can’t help, either.

Something has to give.

Ballrooms, arches, refurbished decorative pools, new statue parks, and pointless wars are top priorities for our current administration, while cuts are being made to programs designed to benefit this country’s neediest citizens. Can’t someone, somewhere have some compassion for us senior citizens? We shouldn’t have to face the end of our lives trying to decide between housing, food, and medical care.

That’s enough of a rant for today. If you have extra money (please stop laughing) and are willing to part with it, I will gladly accept monetary gifts. I’m no longer too proud to do so.

Hugs, all.

__________

I love to hear from my readers. You may comment on this post or email me at cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com
__________
Image by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalieStudio

Posted in Health, That's Life | Tagged making ends meet, medical expenses, Medicare, Remicade, senior citizens, Social Security, stretching the budget | 10 Comments

Dynamic Me

Posted on May 15, 2026 by cordeliasmom2012

WARNING: If you’re squeamish about medical stuff, especially female medical issues, you may want to skip this post.

As a lead-up to my scheduled bladder surgery, I had to undergo a number of medical appointments and pre-surgical tests. One of those tests was a bladder dynamic study.

Now, I’ve never had that test, nor do I know anyone who has undergone it, so really I had no idea what to expect. Sure, I was able to find information online about the procedure itself, but saw nothing posted by people who had actually taken the test. So, for those who are interested, consider this my public service announcement.

One thing I love about my urogynecologist is that her practice consists mainly of female patients in my own age group. For years, I refused to go to a gynecologist simply because I would feel embarrassed by having to sit in a waiting room full of young pregnant women who might wonder why such an old lady even needed OBGYN services.

In addition, my new doctor has her office set up in such a way as to make it physically comfortable for us older (and some of us, larger) ladies. It’s a short walk into the building, with no long interior hallways. The waiting room has comfortable seating, including some wider chairs for those of us who need them. And, I discovered, if you need to give a urine sample, the bathrooms are set up adjoining the exam rooms so there’s no need to amble across or down the hall.

My only complaint, and it’s not really a complaint, is that my doctor is into teaching, so she often has interns and residents come into the room with her. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, so long as they’re just standing around observing – but on my very first visit, there was a young, cute male resident who got to do everything my doctor did. He was very professional and compassionate, but really, I didn’t need two people getting all up in there.

Having said all that, let’s get to the procedure in question.

Fortunately, for the bladder dynamic study, the only people in the room were me, my doctor, and one of the female nurses.

To begin with, I was told to sit on the exam table and pee into the plastic container at the foot of the table. Say what? Have you ever tried to pee anywhere other than a room designed solely for that purpose? I haven’t. And even though everyone had left the room to give me privacy, I simply couldn’t do it. Not that much of an issue, though, as I knew a catheter would be placed in a few minutes anyway.

Subsequent to my pee failure, I was asked to move up onto the table itself. Instead of the normal exam table, I was in the “procedure room” where the table had nice, wide footrests instead of those awful stirrups. That was much more comfortable for someone like me, with at least one bad knee.

What wasn’t comfortable was the procedure itself.

Sure, I knew that a catheter would be placed, and I suspected that the doctor would need to “get up in there” – but what I didn’t expect was that (in my case, where the bladder was fully prolapsed) a probe would be inserted into my rectum, apparently to capture the electrical nerve impulses. I was unable to resist commenting to the doctor that I felt like I was being medically tested on a spaceship, at which point she replied, in effect, “yeah, we abducted you.” That little bit of humor made me feel much better about my surgeon; at that point I think I began to view her more as a partner in my medical journey, rather than just a professional overseeing my care. Since my life will literally be in her hands in another week or so, that relationship is very important to me.

So, for those who don’t know, the bladder dynamic study consists of filling the bladder to capacity and testing the nerve impulses. Not the most enjoyable of experiences, but it wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be (other than the probe). Afterwards, I was asked to move back down to the foot of the table and try to empty my bladder. Although it took a few moments, this time I succeeded – despite the fact that both the doctor and the nurse were watching. (Years ago, I was told that once you’ve birthed a child in a hospital, there’s little to no modesty any more. I believe that’s often true.)

Apparently the test went well enough, and no leaking was discovered. That means I will be able to avoid any additional repair work to the bladder itself. My surgery will consist of repositioning the bladder, inserting a “sling”, and then sewing everything up.

Sounds awful, doesn’t it? But at least I will be unconscious during the whole thing.

Hopefully, in a couple of weeks I’ll be able to report that the surgery is over and all went well. I’ll try to avoid all the graphic details, not that I’d remember them anyway or, for that matter, even be aware of them. In any event, my surgeon has assured me that the procedure is fairly routine and is tolerated well by the majority of her patients, most of whom are my age or older. She also indicated that the pain level should be low to moderate and that simple Tylenol should be sufficient to ease the pain, but that prescription medication would be available if needed.

Hugs, all. Your support in my mini-journey has been overwhelming. I have so many awesome friends, both online and offline. Until now, I wasn’t truly aware of that – and I’m deeply grateful for it.

__________

I love to hear from my readers. You may comment on this post or email me at cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com
__________
Image by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalieStudio

Posted in Health, That's Life | Tagged bladder surgery, medical issues, prolapsed bladder | 7 Comments

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Posted on April 13, 2026 by cordeliasmom2012

Sometimes timing is everything.

Like just managing to catch your dog with his head inside a stuffed toy (thank you, Cordelia!).

Which just goes to show that pretty much everyone is a better photographer than I am.

[sigh]

But I’m ok with that. These days, I am unable to do photography, for two reasons: (1) my computer is full, with no room for new photos until I manage to clear out a bunch of crap; and (2) I am essentially disabled and housebound at the moment, due to the fact that I am awaiting surgery for a prolapsed bladder.

Years ago, I asked my then primary physician if it was possible for a prolapsed bladder to actually fall out of one’s body, and he said it was highly unlikely. Relying on his “expertise,” I ignored the situation – until I had that bad fall a couple of years ago, after which it seemed I lost a couple of inches in height, and yes, the bladder subsequently fell out completely.

(BTW, that was the same doctor who later told my husband he simply had a muscle strain when, in fact, he had a ruptured appendix. Needless to say, we are no longer seeing that doctor.)

Now I understand why walking became so difficult. It wasn’t just laziness, as my husband seemed to think (he has since revised his opinion, now that my surgeon has confirmed that I’m basically trying to walk around like a cow with a full udder dragging under her).

So, for now I stay as still as possible, and hope that once the surgery is completed in a few weeks, I’ll be able to start moving around normally again. I’d love to be out of pain and able to rebuild my atrophied muscles. Summer is just around the corner and Mother Nature is calling to me.

If nothing else, I’m hoping to be able to start driving myself again. Currently, hubby has to drive me to all my appointments because, even though I have a handicapped sticker (and a cane), I find it very difficult to walk from the parking lot into any building, so I rely on him to drop me off right outside the front door. So annoying.

And I never thought I’d say [write] this: I am so looking forward to surgery.

Fingers crossed.

Of course, I’ll have all those un-planned-for medical bills. There have been a number of medical appointments and pre-surgical tests for which there are co-pays. My Medicare Advantage insurance will cover most of the testing and the surgery itself, but the out-of pocket costs will still add up and will need to be taken from savings.

[double sigh]

The good news is – while we were unable to qualify for SNAP (food stamps) because we were only a few hundred dollars over the maximum income limit, we have received HEAP (for heating) and EEAP (for electric). Plus (and this is a biggie), my GI doctor has agreed to try to help me obtain assistance for my Remicade infusions – not having to pay that nearly $400 every six weeks would go a long way towards stretching the very, very tight budget.

I don’t know if I’ll be posting again any time soon, so wish me luck. If you’re religious, I will gladly accept any prayers for a successful surgery and recovery. I admit to being scared that my advancing age will finally catch up to me on the operating table. What a bummer that would be.