Three weeks ago, I had emergency gallbladder surgery. The doctors warned me that because of all my past abdominal surgeries, and resulting scar tissue, the laparoscopic surgery may end up being a regular surgery. I woke up to find the laparoscopic surgery was a success.
That was good to hear, but the scar tissue in my mind has affected my emotional healing. Muscle memory is true for the brain as well as the body. The brain is a big muscle and this experience has been a testing its strength.
It’s been an emotional ride from the get go.
I got teary in the Emergency Room when the doctor asked me about my son. The surgical student looked confused and asked what the tears were about. Was there any way to explain to this young man that my boy is on vacation and I don’t want him to be scared? He’s had enough pain to contend with. I choked out, “I don’t know” and left it at that.
When I was finally wheeled to a ward, I was assigned the “hallway room.” The nurse proudly explained that she had hung the yellow garbage bags as my privacy curtains; next, I was told a commode was my “bathroom”. The situation felt surreal.
I cried after three days of waiting for surgery in my dirty make-shift room. I felt helpless.
When it was my turn, I was filled with dread as the nurse wheeled my steel bed down to the surgical floor. She told my husband where to wait and we both forgot to say “I love you” as we said good bye. My mind was numb, and he had a slight look of panic.
Tears ran down my cheeks as I lay outside the Operating Room. I remembered the same scenario as a kid. Waiting alone. A kindly male nurse came and explained what would happen next. I wasn’t embarrassed by the crying; it was quiet and I managed to cork it long enough to let the anesthesiologist know about my MS and off kilter Central Nervous System.
She wasn’t spared my tears though; they spontaneously sprung when she placed the mask over my face to go to sleep. Again, no sobbing. I was able to follow her directions to breathe deeply.
Next thing I knew, I woke up. Dry eyed and sore, I asked “Is it all done?”
I don’t have one photo from my childhood stays in hospital. This time, my husband updated our family with photos. I was way too sore and tired to care about how I looked, but I smiled anyways.
Looking at them now, I’m reminded that scar tissue is hidden and all those tears were my way of dissolving some of it.
Lindsay, this is such a special read. I won't go into detail but this week has been sad, and confusing for me. I am reminded here of a colonoscopy I had 2 summers ago. I was scared although it's a simple procedure and I have had one before. I asked the nurse "am I going to die?". When she said no I instantly felt better. She rubbed my arm as I went under. I could cry now thinking about it. How vulnerable I was and how sweet this woman was. I felt like a little boy. I was 47 or 48 LOL. Keep writing Linds. We all love you.