Today, I had my sixth surgery in five years. This is not something that I wish to brag about. It's written more in horror of the fact. We have lived in Pennsylvania for almost six years, so every surgery has happened here. And people wonder why I don't like Pennsylvania...
Back in February, 2007, I had my first sinus surgery. I developed mold allergies when we lived in Germany, and I have suffered from chronic sinusitis for most of my life. It went mostly untreated as a child, and as an adult, I am on constant antibiotics and steroids (leading to all kinds of weight problems). After the initial surgery, I was healthy for a about a year and a half. It was such a lovely thing. I had never gone months without being sick, and I felt like a new person. Unfortunately, my allergies weren't controlled at the time which led to lots of viral and bacterial infections, and I returned to my former state of health.
I have spent the last five years getting my allergies under control. However, when I lived in Michigan this past summer, and worked in a 50-year-old building, full of mold, the injections couldn't hold off the symptoms. I came back to Pennsylvania very, very sick. After discussing the issue with my allergist, he ordered a CT scan of my sinuses (this is becoming rather commonplace now), and he couldn't believe what he saw. Actually, he couldn't believe what he DIDN'T see: space.
My sinuses were completely blocked. Like not one open area in any of them. It's a given that I have no sense of taste or smell, but this was pure infection.
He sent me to a local ENT in January (John actually delivered his wife's baby), and the ENT suggested immediate surgery. Having our scuba trip planned the end of February, I had to delay the surgery until after that. There was no way I was ruining our vacation! Of course to even clear my ears while diving, I was put on a large course of steroids which left me hungry, bloated and unable to sleep at night during the cruise. Yes, I didn't care--it was all about diving!
I have done everything to not think about this surgery. I told all of two people about it beforehand, because I didn't want people asking me about it. Even John was unsure of the date. I hate surgery. I hate recovery even more. The health problems I have suffered and the consequent surgeries have put enormous pressure on John and the kids. Too, the thought of surgery makes me depressed. I didn't want anybody to feel any of that pressure or worry until they absolutely had to, and I didn't need depression in my life. In fact, Mark still doesn't even know that I HAD surgery, and most people still wouldn't know if Ethan hadn't mentioned it in his last email.
I was so unhappy when I woke up this morning. I had lived life to the last possible moment, still driving the girls to Philadelphia for lessons yesterday and arriving home late last night. John and I had to leave for the hospital at 5:45 this morning which meant the girls had to get themselves ready this morning (begin the pressure and worry of me not being home). The funny thing during the 45 minute drive was that John was trying to make conversation. What does he have to talk about for the most part? His job, and the interesting surgeries he had yesterday. I finally had to cut him off when he started talking about bad surgeons and surgeries gone bad. He just didn't realize what he was doing, and I can laugh about it now, but I wasn't then.
My blood pressure was off the charts for me. 142/91! I pride myself on my usual BP: 90/60. Yeah, I was slightly stressed.
After arriving, and getting dressed in the proverbial "gown", I listened to the traditional conversation between John and the medical staff. Sometimes I wonder if the staff even remembers that I'm THERE! He's such a super-star wherever he goes in the hospital. I just tried to take deep breaths while John talked about our dogs, cookies, and nurses that he knew.
Versed (as in the drug, not as in being "well-versed"). Do you know what it is? I don't know much about it, except it makes the patient forget everything that happens during surgery. I guess it's given to some patients to take the edge off while waiting, but the anesthesiologist told me I didn't need it--I seemed chill enough. However, once I was close to heading into the OR, it was put into my IV.
So I play a game with myself and Versed. I do everything I possibly can to remember everything for as long as I can. I'm a control freak, and I don't like the idea of doing things and saying things that I can't remember. I keep telling myself that I'm remembering this, and I'm remembering that. I'm getting wheeled into the OR, and I remember it. I remember what the nurses are talking about. And then it's like a switch is turned off. Click.
Everything is gone.
Like totally gone.
The next thing I know, some annoying nurse is attempting to wake me up when all I want to do is sleep. They're doing all kinds of nasty, embarrassing things that I wish I DIDN'T remember. And then there's John. He uses his secret doctor powers to make his appearance in the Recovery Room where no family members are officially allowed. I must say at this point that there are so many benefits to having a doctor for a husband and father :-)
Usually, when I come out of surgery, I start crying. Not sobbing or weeping. Just a quiet tear or two running down my face. These tears are from relief that I am finding myself still alive after the surgery, and they are tears of recognition for how difficult my life is going to be for the next couple of weeks (for both the family and me). I actually warn the nurses that this will happen because their typical reaction is thinking that I am in pain (which I'm not) and they start worrying. No worries, at least not for them.
This time, no tears. In fact, as soon as I was able to move, I ran my fingers through my clean hair (yes, I got up at 5:15 a.m. to take a shower). I had several nurses comment to me independently of each other that they'd never seen someone look so good after sinus surgery. That's right, BABY! I'm getting good at this surgery thing, if I do say so myself. Of course, I didn't realize at the time, coming out of the fog of anesthesia, that I had a large gauze pad taped to my face under my nose to catch all the blood and goo :-) Yeah, THAT must have looked attractive!
So far, I'm feeling well. John is actually kind of amazed as he sits playing video games while I'm picking up the house :-) Kidding aside, John took off today and tomorrow, and I'm thankful. Not because I couldn't do pretty much everything myself, but because we're ordering pizza and watching movies, and hanging out together. He jumps up to get anything I need, and he makes phone calls for me and drives the girls around. I guess if I need to have surgery to have John around during the day, surgery is okay!
Recovery will be long. No scuba diving planned until next year at least. I can't even BLOW my nose for a month. However, I'm hopeful that my health will improve dramatically after this surgery. While I don't imagine my senses of taste and smell will ever return, I will be grateful for the loss of daily migraines, and sinus troubles, and bottles of medication. I will be so happy to know that I can exercise for the benefit of exercising instead of hoping to increase my adrenaline levels to stave off the allergy symptoms. I'll be happy to feel like me again.
And I'm hoping that this is the end of the surgery run. I've had enough. Two back surgeries, two ankle surgeries and now two sinus surgeries, all in five years. Gone are the days of leaving a blank on any health history forms under the question "any previous surgeries". I can concentrate on getting complete control over the allergies and hopefully move on with life.
Yeah, that's what I say after every surgery, but I have a feeling that Versed and I are going to continue to play our games. That seems to be my lot in life. Hey, John stays home and we eat pizza and chocolate. There is a silver lining to this cloud :-)
Back in February, 2007, I had my first sinus surgery. I developed mold allergies when we lived in Germany, and I have suffered from chronic sinusitis for most of my life. It went mostly untreated as a child, and as an adult, I am on constant antibiotics and steroids (leading to all kinds of weight problems). After the initial surgery, I was healthy for a about a year and a half. It was such a lovely thing. I had never gone months without being sick, and I felt like a new person. Unfortunately, my allergies weren't controlled at the time which led to lots of viral and bacterial infections, and I returned to my former state of health.
I have spent the last five years getting my allergies under control. However, when I lived in Michigan this past summer, and worked in a 50-year-old building, full of mold, the injections couldn't hold off the symptoms. I came back to Pennsylvania very, very sick. After discussing the issue with my allergist, he ordered a CT scan of my sinuses (this is becoming rather commonplace now), and he couldn't believe what he saw. Actually, he couldn't believe what he DIDN'T see: space.
My sinuses were completely blocked. Like not one open area in any of them. It's a given that I have no sense of taste or smell, but this was pure infection.
He sent me to a local ENT in January (John actually delivered his wife's baby), and the ENT suggested immediate surgery. Having our scuba trip planned the end of February, I had to delay the surgery until after that. There was no way I was ruining our vacation! Of course to even clear my ears while diving, I was put on a large course of steroids which left me hungry, bloated and unable to sleep at night during the cruise. Yes, I didn't care--it was all about diving!
I have done everything to not think about this surgery. I told all of two people about it beforehand, because I didn't want people asking me about it. Even John was unsure of the date. I hate surgery. I hate recovery even more. The health problems I have suffered and the consequent surgeries have put enormous pressure on John and the kids. Too, the thought of surgery makes me depressed. I didn't want anybody to feel any of that pressure or worry until they absolutely had to, and I didn't need depression in my life. In fact, Mark still doesn't even know that I HAD surgery, and most people still wouldn't know if Ethan hadn't mentioned it in his last email.
I was so unhappy when I woke up this morning. I had lived life to the last possible moment, still driving the girls to Philadelphia for lessons yesterday and arriving home late last night. John and I had to leave for the hospital at 5:45 this morning which meant the girls had to get themselves ready this morning (begin the pressure and worry of me not being home). The funny thing during the 45 minute drive was that John was trying to make conversation. What does he have to talk about for the most part? His job, and the interesting surgeries he had yesterday. I finally had to cut him off when he started talking about bad surgeons and surgeries gone bad. He just didn't realize what he was doing, and I can laugh about it now, but I wasn't then.
My blood pressure was off the charts for me. 142/91! I pride myself on my usual BP: 90/60. Yeah, I was slightly stressed.
After arriving, and getting dressed in the proverbial "gown", I listened to the traditional conversation between John and the medical staff. Sometimes I wonder if the staff even remembers that I'm THERE! He's such a super-star wherever he goes in the hospital. I just tried to take deep breaths while John talked about our dogs, cookies, and nurses that he knew.
Versed (as in the drug, not as in being "well-versed"). Do you know what it is? I don't know much about it, except it makes the patient forget everything that happens during surgery. I guess it's given to some patients to take the edge off while waiting, but the anesthesiologist told me I didn't need it--I seemed chill enough. However, once I was close to heading into the OR, it was put into my IV.
So I play a game with myself and Versed. I do everything I possibly can to remember everything for as long as I can. I'm a control freak, and I don't like the idea of doing things and saying things that I can't remember. I keep telling myself that I'm remembering this, and I'm remembering that. I'm getting wheeled into the OR, and I remember it. I remember what the nurses are talking about. And then it's like a switch is turned off. Click.
Everything is gone.
Like totally gone.
The next thing I know, some annoying nurse is attempting to wake me up when all I want to do is sleep. They're doing all kinds of nasty, embarrassing things that I wish I DIDN'T remember. And then there's John. He uses his secret doctor powers to make his appearance in the Recovery Room where no family members are officially allowed. I must say at this point that there are so many benefits to having a doctor for a husband and father :-)
Usually, when I come out of surgery, I start crying. Not sobbing or weeping. Just a quiet tear or two running down my face. These tears are from relief that I am finding myself still alive after the surgery, and they are tears of recognition for how difficult my life is going to be for the next couple of weeks (for both the family and me). I actually warn the nurses that this will happen because their typical reaction is thinking that I am in pain (which I'm not) and they start worrying. No worries, at least not for them.
This time, no tears. In fact, as soon as I was able to move, I ran my fingers through my clean hair (yes, I got up at 5:15 a.m. to take a shower). I had several nurses comment to me independently of each other that they'd never seen someone look so good after sinus surgery. That's right, BABY! I'm getting good at this surgery thing, if I do say so myself. Of course, I didn't realize at the time, coming out of the fog of anesthesia, that I had a large gauze pad taped to my face under my nose to catch all the blood and goo :-) Yeah, THAT must have looked attractive!
So far, I'm feeling well. John is actually kind of amazed as he sits playing video games while I'm picking up the house :-) Kidding aside, John took off today and tomorrow, and I'm thankful. Not because I couldn't do pretty much everything myself, but because we're ordering pizza and watching movies, and hanging out together. He jumps up to get anything I need, and he makes phone calls for me and drives the girls around. I guess if I need to have surgery to have John around during the day, surgery is okay!
Recovery will be long. No scuba diving planned until next year at least. I can't even BLOW my nose for a month. However, I'm hopeful that my health will improve dramatically after this surgery. While I don't imagine my senses of taste and smell will ever return, I will be grateful for the loss of daily migraines, and sinus troubles, and bottles of medication. I will be so happy to know that I can exercise for the benefit of exercising instead of hoping to increase my adrenaline levels to stave off the allergy symptoms. I'll be happy to feel like me again.
And I'm hoping that this is the end of the surgery run. I've had enough. Two back surgeries, two ankle surgeries and now two sinus surgeries, all in five years. Gone are the days of leaving a blank on any health history forms under the question "any previous surgeries". I can concentrate on getting complete control over the allergies and hopefully move on with life.
Yeah, that's what I say after every surgery, but I have a feeling that Versed and I are going to continue to play our games. That seems to be my lot in life. Hey, John stays home and we eat pizza and chocolate. There is a silver lining to this cloud :-)
This made me feel so bad for you Mama.... I still think about how you had all those ankle surgeries and how despite all that, you went with me to EVERY college trip. Now to think that you had to have another surgery...it's just crazy Mama. You're PERFATO Mama, and we love and appreciate you and all that you do for the family. Love you and can't wait to talk to you again!
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