Part #1 The Anniversary of the Initial Surgery -The 1st Mistake

This is not my usual type of post... I chose a #gratitudeattitude because or in spite of these pieces of my past. In this Anniversary I #chooselife

This is an anniversary of sorts.. Not in the usual joyous vein.. Not to be celebrated as such.. It is however, important to acknowledge how far I have come from “the me” of that day. The ‘me’ I felt was “not good enough” The me I hated.?

On that fateful day, I chose to undergo an experimental surgery, I chose to have my stomach stapled.? When all was said and done,? it would be almost 12 years before I learned the truth of the debacle that was September 1983. I learned that my stomach had been un-stapled three weeks after that initial surgery. In the third surgery on September 28th…

It would be thirty years before I actually started on the road to learning to like ‘me’. Another seven years before I understood I am good enough. I am valuable. I am worth my time. I am worthy of being loved.?

It’s September 13, 1983. This was "THE DAY". It was a day of great anticipation. I was the only one in my friends and family who thought this was a good move. No one wanted me to have this experimental surgery. I knew there was a 2% chance I could die. I believed I would be fine.?

Never in a million years would I have thought I would come within inches of being in that 2%. I was under the impression that I was going to make a deeply uplifting change in my life. I thought this eventual new me would open up a world in which I could like me.?

In fact there was this tiny weird little gut feeling. It hovered just out of reach like a gnat buzzing your head at twilight; unseen, more felt… a little annoyance in your peripheral vision.? I kept trying to ignore it. I had made up my mind.?

You see, I was primed for this surgery.? I had done all the things… I’d gone for all the preparatory work. I’d jumped through all the hoops. I'd talked to all the people the doctor required me to talk to in order to prepare me for this impending surgery. This life changing surgery.?

And yet, there at the edge of consciousness,? that tiny little voice inside wouldn’t go away! It kept ringing an alarm. I refused to listen.? I was even more adamant that I would breeze through the surgery and be back at work full of life in three weeks. Total time 21 days.?

Everyone in our family, and my close friends ( the only people who knew why I was having surgery) did not want me to go ahead. They begged me to reconsider. They didn’t understand the full depths of my hatred for me.?

In hindsight, which is always twenty-twenty, I now get that my intuition, my family and friends, in fact, it seems everyone, except me knew this would not turn out to be a good thing. And yet, no one had envisioned the horror that would ensue. No one saw the decades of struggle ahead.

The surgery required some pre-operative work to be done.? The actual surgical prep work was a foreshadowing of the difficulties to come.?

The very first thing they had to do became an issue. They required central venous access. (Healthcare providers may use your subclavian vein for central venous access. This procedure is also known as a “central line.”)? They were to insert a line between my clavicle and sternum. It's called a subclavian central line.?

As luck would have it. One in approximately 60,000 people have an issue with the bones being too close together and not allowing enough space to make it easy to get an intravenous line started it took them three or four tries to finally get one going.

That little twinge inside got just a bit louder…Sad to say, it wasn't loud enough to make me listen.?

I don't remember the trip to the OR. I don't remember those last few moments before going under the anesthetic. I don't honestly remember much of that day in 1983.

?I would beat myself up over and over, for making the choice to go ahead with the surgery. I agonized for decades over the toll on my husband, kids and family. I carried such shame and guilt over feeling I required the stomach stapling, and that somehow I was making it not work.?

I understood when I woke up in post-op that I would be required to feed through a tube in my side. I understood the tube was to stay in my side for a total of three weeks.?

I was told I would spend six days in the hospital. The next two weeks I would be recuperating at home.? On the 21stl day, I would come back into the clinic and the Dr would take out the j-tube in my left side. I would follow the new protocols and life would go.?

I fully understood and accepted that I was to have nothing by mouth until after the removal of the j-tube. I knew those first 21 days were crucial, and would set me up for success in my new way of eating.??

On waking up in resuscitation, a twinge of pain deep in my right shoulder took my breath away. I didn't want to seem like a baby. I didn't want to complain. I didn’t want to give my family anything to worry about.. I knew they were waiting with baited breath lest anything go bad.??

It was a lost day as they kept injecting me with pain medication that first day. And the next, and the next. The nurses showed me how to feed through the J-tube placed in my small intestine on my left side,?

There seemed to be too many visits from the resident and the student Drs who had participated in the surgery. They would come into my room, bustle around the bed, never looking me in the eye. None of them would say much and each of them would leave abruptly.?

I had been assigned a student nurse who took notes on everything, by temperature, my level of discomfort, my use of the feeding tube, etc.. It was that student nurse who chuckled with me on day two, when we realized the kitchen had sent me a strawberry milkshake, complete with strawberry seeds!? We were supposed to put the milkshake into the large bolus syringe we used to inject into my G-tube.?

Both of us knew it wasn't really possible to give me the milkshake. The strawberry seeds were big enough to be seen on? filling the J-tube..? Of course the very first seed got stuck.?

The young student nurse thought she could make it go through. She tried valiantly to flush it with saline. It meant a trip to the emergency area for insertion of a new J-tube.? I suppose that was a good lesson. There were many trips to the emergency department and a couple of “embarrassing incidents” (I tell the story of the beautiful beige Mercedes convertible and the escape of the stopcock in my original talk - Always Wear Clean Underwear )?

I ended up dependent on that j-tube for more than a year…

By the end of day two, the dull pain in my shoulder became much worse and I was spiking a fever. No one seemed? to know why.?

On day three, I was getting weak from the constant pain, and nausea.? I was desperate to go home. I thought I would be able to heal better. I was having bizarre dreams, and nightmares that terrified me. In hindsight, I was being given an awful lot of pain medication. The resident, and the student doctors, came in often, fluttered around a bit and left without really looking at me. It seemed no one wanted to answer any questions, nor did they actually ask me how I was doing.? On day five, I was told that I was to have a barium swallow before being discharged.??

The doctor came in and? said there was a problem down in the x-ray department so they would have to put off my test. He then said if I promised to come back on Monday or Tuesday, for the swallow test, I could go home today.?

It was Saturday morning and I was willing to come back to have the barium swallow done, I was so happy to go home. I just wanted to go home. The discomfort and pain in my shoulder now became like someone had put his sword into me. I mentioned it to the student nurse who wrote it in her notes. As I waited for my husband to pick me up, the resident, and the student doctors came in, the student nurse stopped the resident on the way out and told him I still had a fever..?

I was holding my breath as I just wanted to go home. He didn't take much interest in her information and he left the room. The student nurse asked if the pain was worse, as I was leaving. I couldn’t wait to go home. I said goodbye and thank you. I saw no point in mentioning that I didn't understand why I would have pain in my shoulder as I'd had surgery in my stomach.?

I promised to come back for the barium swallow on Monday or Tuesday as requested and I left. I thought I could be tough, and did not take any pain prescription. I only lasted at home for less than 17 hours.?

I mark this anniversary with gratitude. With sadness and with pride and love for the “me” that made it through.. The me that took the icky bits and used them to shine the light on the good things I cherish.

?I now know for sure:? I am good enough. I am valuable. I am worth my time. I am worthy of being loved. I choose a #gratitudeattitude