I promised you a "Part 2" to my surgery post and the "why" I didn't share things with you until after the surgery. So, here is the part 2 you've been waiting for - or maybe you haven't been waiting for it, but it's here now anyway!
Like I said in Part 1, I knew I was having surgery months before it happened. I knew it was going to be two surgeries with two different surgeons that would have to coordinate their schedules to perform the surgeries back to back. I knew the urologist was going to be doing quite a bit of "stuff" while I was "under the knife." Yes, I knew all of that. But, I chose not to share it with anyone. Well, I shared it with a handful of people, maybe 15 in total but only about 5 of them knew the DETAILS. Why? Let me tell you why.
Wait! Before I get into my "why," let me tell you something about my surgery real quick!
After each surgeon finished their part of the surgery, my husband got a call from that doctor. The gynecologist called and told him all went well for her part. Another few hours later, my husband got a call from the urologist. He told him, "Everything went well. All looks great on the inside. Your wife's insides are tip top."...something like that. It's not every day you're told your insides look great, right?! They wanted to keep me overnight to make sure everything was going well since it was such a long surgery.
Everything is going well Tuesday. I'm just super tired and just want to sleep. Don comes and visits me that evening. As he's leaving, since I'm obviously super tired, he tells me he'll come by in the morning before he heads to work. Where I am is 20 minutes North of where he works. I told him I'm so out of the way, to not worry about it. He insists he'll be back in the morning. WELL...THAT WAS INSPIRATION. The next morning he shows up. They bring me my liquid breakfast. Yay me - not! Just before I grab my broth the nurse comes in to give me a shot. I asked him what it was. He said it was an anti blood clotting medication. He said they normally give it in the stomach but since I just had laparoscopic surgery, he'd give it to me in my arm. "Ok. I hate needles so be nice." He gave me the shot and left the room.
I reached for my broth, picked it up, and get it just about to my lips when I put it down quickly and look at Don and say, through soft, ragged breathing, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe! Go get the nurse!" He quickly gets the nurse. The nurse checks my monitors but doesn't know what the problem is. After about a minute I'm able to breathe normal again. The nurse has no idea what caused that. Although my oxygen levels were good, he put me on oxygen "just to be safe." I suggested it may be the meds he gave me. He said, "I don't think that would do it but let me know if you have any other issues." Um, ok.
The nurse leaves and I look at Don a few minutes later and say, "I can't breathe!" I hit the call button and I hear a nurse say, "Can I help you?" Well, duh! That's why I pressed the call button. I say, "I can't breathe" but she can't understand me because I could barely speak. Don runs to get the nurse again. (See why I said it was inspiration on Don's part that he decided to see me in the morning??? Who knows what would have happened if he wasn't there to help me?) When he (the nurse) enters, I tell him I'm having chest pain, too! He gets the emergency response team in there right away and the on call hospital doc. They decide to do a chest x-ray, blood work to check my heart enzymes, an EKG and also a CT scan to make sure there's no PE (pulmonary embolism).
After all is said and done, I get a "clean bill of health" and am released five hours later than I was supposed to be. I had told the rapid response team lead nurse that if they kept me another night there was no way I was taking that shot in the arm again the next day (it was a daily shot). I told all of them that I thought it was due to the meds they gave me. They just couldn't accept that. When I looked it up at my follow up appointment 10 days later...SOME of the side affects of Lovenox (the med I was given) is DIFFICULTY BREATHING AND CHEST PAIN!! It's noted in my chart that I will never have that drug again.
Now, back to my 'why'....
My "why" goes back a few years - 2016 to be exact. As I write this I hold NO HARD FEELINGS TOWARD ANYONE AT ALL. No. Seriously. I don't. However, some of you may take this personally. I can't help that. I'm not asking anyone to beat themselves up for it. I'm simply stating my WHY. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad. If you CHOOSE to feel bad, stop it. I've moved on, for the most part. My mind still has a bit of PTSD, though.
In November of 2016, two days after Thanksgiving, Mom passed away. She had lived with us for seven (7) years. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her. Everyone at church knew her. She was actively involved in our ward (church geographical area for our congregation) and attended many non-Sunday church events. Even after her passing I had people tell me things I never knew about her. Like one friend told me, "I loved that your mom would mail me books that she had read. We started mailing books back and forth to each other." Another friend told me, "I enjoyed coming over and doing her nails every once in a while." And yet another friend, "Your mom always made me laugh. She was a funny lady." Ok, I knew my mom was funny but more in the "Dad joke" kind of way. But, that others found her friendly and funny? I was happy to hear that about her. I mean, she could be cantankerous when she really wanted to be. Perhaps that was just with me. Ha! I digress.
Anyway, my point is, Mom wasn't a stranger to anyone around here. Mom passed on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. (Side note, I was so happy she chose to spend Thanksgiving with us. It was her last Thanksgiving...with me and my family and a few other family members. Happy memories right there!) I chose to attend church the next day. It wasn't like I could do anything. Mom was "on ice" waiting to be transported to the funeral home and all that stuff. So, I went to church. That Sunday the bishop (ecclesiastical leader) announced my mother's passing. I was given the obligatory "Sorry for your loss" by people and hugs here and there. Then I went home to prepare for funeral stuff.
I was so consumed with preparing the eulogy, getting the announcement in the newspaper, putting the service together, securing a church building to have the services, arranging to go to the funeral home to pick out the casket, flowers and burial plot as well as having to "tread lightly" around an aunt that proved to not have Mom's best interest at heart (but that's a WHOLE other story about her stealing Mom's money that I don't want to go into). Plus, I had to arrange a time for Mom's children (my siblings and me) to meet at the funeral home to help dress mom for the funeral/burial.
I ended up getting sick. I mean, lose my voice kind of sick. My plate was so full and I felt like I was drowning. I did everything I could to keep my head above water. I was an emotional wreck.
What does this have to do with my surgery? Well, I'm glad you asked.
See, during this time very few people even acknowledged my grief. I can count on ONE HAND how many people reached out to me to express their sorrow for my loss. One friend dropped off flowers and a hug. Another friend came by and gave me a plant...and a hug. Another friend brought me homemade chicken tortilla soup. That same friend had her young women class from church (14 year olds?) come by and Christmas carol to me and bring me a blanket. The day of the funeral? ONE FRIEND from our area attended the funeral, which was about 50 minutes away.
Again, WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR SURGERY, DEBBIE??
Ok! Relax. I'm getting there.
I was so, super hurt by the lack of love and support I felt from my friends, knowing they knew my mom personally, I started pulling away from my "church family." I didn't want to be around people that didn't care about me or how I felt. The obligatory "sorry for your loss" really doesn't mean too much. It's just four words. I had about five people SHOW me that they were "sorry for my loss" and that they loved me. I would go to church and feel alone. I hated that feeling, but I was so hurt. It took me a few years to release the hurt feelings and work through the pain I felt.
I was "afraid" if people knew about my surgery and no one bothered to send a get well card or a text or flowers or SOMETHING to show they cared, I would hurt all over again. I wasn't willing to put myself through that. I told Don, "Honey. I have PTSD from Mom's death. I just don't want people to know." I was setting the bar low...low expectations meant I could protect myself from being hurt. If no one knew I was having surgery and had to be down for 6 weeks then I wouldn't be hurt if no one sent a card or flowers, etc. It's not that I wanted to keep it private. Good gravy. Like I keep ANYTHING private. Haha! I just didn't want to feel that hurt, that pain, that loneliness again. As it is, I'm supposed to be down for 6 weeks. After 3 weeks I decided I didn't want to be "forgotten" so I jumped back into life. It's not FOMO (fear of missing out). It's more like "Hey! I'm still here. Please see me! Please don't forget about me!" I love life too much to go through it alone. Sure, I have my husband - the BEST person to experience life with - but we all need friends. I just didn't want my friends to forget about me. So, 3 weeks post surgery, I resumed my "regularly scheduled life."
I still have limitations. I can't lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. I can WALK on the treadmill but not run. I can't do any abdominal exercises. I can't "disturb" the surgical site in any way, shape or form until the doctor gives me the "go sign" on November 30th. And if you're reading between the lines, you'll know what I mean by "disturb" and "way, shape or form." Hahahaha! See? NOTHING is private with me!!! My poor husband!
I have to say, I am very thankful for the love that I felt from friends. You are all wonderful. I kinda wish I HAD told more people because it felt so WONDERFUL to feel the love I felt. The cards, the texts, the calls, the flowers, the balloon and book, the chocolate and even a few dinners, a lunch and some super sweet visits. Even the students and their aides I sub for a lot in their classes made cards and a banner for me and delivered them to my home with flowers and chocolate. I even had one sweet friend pop in to see me at the hospital after my surgery. I looked like I'd been run over by a mack truck but felt loved because my friend went out of her way to come see me. I could go on and list everything and everyone but I know I'd leave someone out. But, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the stuffed cow that I was given...by some anonymous friends.
The prayers you all prayed for me...I felt them. Honestly, I did. What I felt missing when Mom died seven years ago was replaced 10 fold this time around.
I am sorry if any of you feel slighted because I didn't tell you about my surgery beforehand. That was not my intention at all. It was just a matter of "self preservation." I didn't think I was strong enough to feel that hurt and pain again. I'm glad I didn't feel it. If anything, your love proved to me that I am really never alone. Thank you. Thank you for loving imperfect me and helping me remember that I am NEVER ALONE.
Hugs!
Debbie
