Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Surgery #2, the low down
Well, the good news is that I didn't faint. Thank god I didn't need those awful guide wires this time- I was so anxious today that had I needed them, I surely would've fainted again, I know it.
Fortunately, because I didn't need the wires, I didn't have to get to the hospital at 6 AM, I could roll in a leisurely 1pm. I really considered again riding my bike there, especially since it was 50 degrees, but I acquiesced to sense and logic. When did I start doing that?
Arrived on time, very very nervous. It seems sometime last week I exhausted my supply of strength and mental fortitude. As each day passed, I found myself more anxious. I always had that slight cry feeling in the back of my throat- I could cry at a moment's notice, whether from fear, sentiments of love, whatever.
Saturday, I had to indulge it. I cried all day. And I don't mean that in some poetic cried-myself-to-sleep way, I mean I cried all day. I found I couldn't stop myself, even when I wanted to. I had to send Matt and Gray away because I didn't want Gray seeing me so sad for so long. I tried to take a shower to break the cycle. Instead I found myself laying down in the tub, crying, and praying to God, to Menla (the medicine Buddha), to the universe to heal me. Actually it was more like begging. It was pitiful, but I needed to just get it out.
I heard a saying once, "In order to rebuild, we must deconstruct". In some way I feel Saturday I was deconstructed. I cried out of fear, I cried out a self-pity, I cried out of pure release, I cried out of anger, I cried in anticipation of the pain, I cried at the injustice, I cried at the profound impact this has had on my life. Though my first surgery was weeks ago, I still have trouble with Gray being close to me- five year olds are all elbows and knees, and though my waking movements were comfortable enough, the spastic nature of my child has meant keeping Gray from getting too close. That's freaking profound- a child belongs next to a mother's breast, not at arm's length. So, I cried about that too.
Today was relatively uneventful. Got to the hospital, had some blood tests, went to the Center for Ambulatory Surgery, got signed in, changed, answered the same 10 questions 8 times- are you allergic to medications, have you eaten today, do you have a living will, would you refuse a blood transfusion.
I met with the surgeon, it was good to see him again. He had an intern with him this time. The anaesthesiologist came to talk, I think she was a Lilliputian. I've never seen such a tiny half woman. Why are anaesthesiologists so physically diverse?!
This time I was given a choice to walk to the OR or ride in a wheel chair. I walked damnit. I even skipped once or twice. Entering the OR didn't scare me this time- I knew to expect the death-chamber bed and autopsy lights. Seeing Dr. Davidson waiting for me with that clear mask covering his face was a little off-putting, was he expecting me to be a bleeder?
I laid down, got the IV in my hand, was covered in many toasty warm blankets, and went night night as I meditated and received all the healing energy being sent to me- thanks everyone! You did good work!
I woke up from the twilight sleep crying. Long streaming tears falling to my neck. I don't know why that happened, but it did. They brought me to my momma, I talked with the surgeon for a bit, ate a little and got dressed to go home. Took a few percoset and here I am, snugly warm in my new ultra soft sweatpants, eating strawberries, and about to go back to bed.
Arif came to visit me today too- all the way from across the world and this awesome kitty!
It was so cool to get so many emails, texts, voicemails, and visits. Wow. At one point today, my table was full of bags of groceries people brought- hot soup, organic carrots, strawberries, decadent chocolate thingys.
I'm set with a library of movies, a kitchen of yum, and a cleared schedule for sleeping. Also a knowledge that there are doctors in the country, specifically one in California, treating DCIS without radiation. And though my surgeon doesn't recommend me forgoing it (my mom let the cat out of the bag, I wasn't going to tell him), it's being done.
I love you- everyone who has given me their strength, their healing, their love, their offers of help, I love you in the most profound, humble way. I have never felt alone or unsupported for any one second of all this and I am grateful beyond measure. Onward to healing!
Posted by Jenni at 2:10 AM