I’m alive!
Seems like a strange way to start a blog but I totally stand by the statement. Leading up to the surgery was close to the lead up to Christmas day…until the morning of. I was Queen of Optifast, living La Vida Liquid. I didn’t want to be late so I made my mother get up at 4.30am to drive from Whangaparaoua to Flat bush…we got there at 5.15am and check in wasn’t till 7. Whoops.
So we sat and waited. We googled. Side effects and complications mostly, possibly not a good idea. I started to panic. I panicked, while mum had a coffee. I continued to panic, while mum had a muffin. I panicked more, while mum slept, only pausing to video the funny snoring noises she was making.
By 7am I was out of the car and waiving Mum off as I set out toward the elevator. I was greeted by a lovely nurse and an equally smiley receptionist. I am guessing that I looked like a possum in headlights as the nurse took my arm instead of leading me to the consultation rooms. The panic only deepened. I saw a nurse, then the Anesthetist, Nutritionist, Physiologist and finally my surgeon. By this time the nurse had taken away my phone, my only connection to my partner and kids. So when the surgeon walked in I started to leak from my face. I hoped that her surgery skills were better than her bedside manner, as she was so uncomfortable with my emotion that she was in and out in what seemed like seconds. What did they say? In surgery by 8am? In for 4hrs? I couldn’t remember a single word. Clothes off, hospital gown on, and I am heading to surgery…on shaking legs.
“Climb up on the bed please.” It is so bright, there are so many people in here. My leaking turns to sobs. I start wondering if I can get out of this? Go home, eat a Big Mac and forget this traumatic ordeal. But they are trying to calm me down, have given me a sedative. I am still doubting everything, but in more of an ‘I’m too calm to really give a shit’ kind of way.
And then I am awake.
Is it over? OMG the pain. I swear they have punctured my lung. I would have bet money on it, with all of my medical nothingness. I am wheeled into a room and am reminded of when I had my daughter. But this is nothing like that. I am in agony and there is no squishy deliciousness sleeping in my arm. There is no euphoria of the fairy tale future I have ahead of me. There is only pain and nausea. I won’t go on about it. No one wants to hear about it. I had to look into the face of one of my closest friends, while having a particularly bad episode, and see the fear and helplessness on her face. But I will say that, on the following day when they removed the drainage tube from my stomach, I realised what had been resting on my lung and preventing painless breathing.
I slept, man did I sleep. Shannon spent a lot of time with me and Mum came, albeit to steel my sickly limelight. My nurse was taking my blood pressure and Mum jumped in with a request, as she wasn’t feeling so flash. Sure enough, my readings are fine and the nurse suggests, firmly, that Mum needs to go to a Dr…soon! Long story slightly shortened, I spent my first night at the apartment alone while Mum had to race to the North Shore hospital with a suspected Heart Attack.
The nausea continued, as did the pain. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the emotion. I could not stop crying. Why did I do this to myself? Did I hate myself this much? Fast forward to day 7, post op, and those doubts are mostly all gone. I have kicked the nausea. The pain is panadol manageable. I am now eating pureed deliciousness and I have lost 6.5kg since surgery. That is 13kg in total. I am still tired and have to rest after any activity, but who cares, I am again feeling positive and looking forward to what is to come.
If I think about it too much, I still feel sad for the little girl in me that has never believed that I was good enough, pretty enough, smart enough or thin enough. I don’t think this surgery has fixed that, but I am proud of how I have gotten through this. I was overwhelmed by the love and cuddles I got from my kids when I finally got home. And for now, that makes me good enough.
And I’m alive x