After a lot of anxious waiting, wondering, and chasing up to get answers, I found out a couple of days ago that my case has been discussed and approved for further surgery. After this wondering and waiting game, the admission date was 2 weeks’ away! It’s like a game of Operation as they’ll be stealing my colon next and hopefully dealing with adhesions at the same time. I’ll be keeping Frank, the stoma, but hopefully with a few less problems. Or at least, that’s the plan. Usually I spend Valentine’s with Jack or Jim (whiskey – the best date a girl can have), but not this year. Instead I’ll be spending it in hospital, so on the plus side it’s a Valentine’s I won’t be spending totally alone!
Strangely enough, getting an appointment for major surgery seems to have been quicker and easier than getting a simple prescription for the recent rheumatology diagnoses for Raynaud’s and Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease. I’m still chasing that up… Go figure.
It’s good to finally have some direction and to know what’s happening next. Not knowing was the worst part. The waiting, trying to get answers, trying to carefully balance everything when so much seemed hinged on the outcome of this decision. If I could go back, I’d tell myself to not stress about it so much; there wasn’t any more I could have done, my employer would have let me go regardless, and I made myself sick with worry and with stress over it all for nothing.
But it’s still like it’s not happening to me. I can talk about it, write about, but it hasn’t sunk in. I don’t think it did for any of the other operations either. I busy myself with practicalities and to-do lists, distracting myself as much as possible, and detach from the bigger, scarier things I don’t want to think about.
Before each surgery, I seem to have this same sense of panic, like I can see a clock ticking down and all the things I need to do. It’s not just preparing for going in to hospital in the practical sense, such as sorting out things at home, tidying up, grocery shopping for post-op food, tying up loose ends, etc. It’s a sense of finality, of panic at the short amount of time left before going in and thinking about all the things I’ve talked about doing but haven’t done. And they’re all silly little things. Things I could, mostly, reasonably do. After an op, there’s a good period of time where you can do very little and I know that during that time I’ll be desperate to do the most banal and boring of things, such as drive my car and go to the supermarket.
But it’s not just that. With any major surgery there are risks, and I can’t help but wonder whether my body can take any more. I don’t want to sound morbid, but it’s going through my head. I’m nothing if not someone who likes to be prepared and realistic. Or a “realistic pessimist” as I like to say.
So here’s to another surgery. Hopefully the last in a good while because I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.