Private Hell.
With my surgery date rushing toward me, I am realizing once again that fear is funny thing. I'm sure everyone has their own way of coping with it that seems to work for them. Frankly, I do NOT have it figured out yet. So, I run the gamut. One moment I am frozen by it. A deer-in-the-headlights kind of thing. I shut down and don't think at all. I just freeze. One can only maintain that state for a moment or two and then the panic usually sets in. Oh-my-gosh-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into kind of stuff. That state seems to be my stand-by.
It's not that I am particularly afraid of the pain of surgery. Don't get me wrong. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Pain killers don't seem to do much for me, and I am carrying a lot of weight. Put that together with having your body filleted open and rearranged, stuffed back in and sewed up...it's gonna hurt. But I can sorta handle that. I don't like it, but it doesn't frighten me. And, yes, I think about the risks of the surgery and the possibility of dying. Not a great thought. I have a lot I want to do. People I care about that I don't want to leave. So, I don't enjoy that either, but it's not what sends the cold chill into my spine.
The really scary thing for me is the private hell that happens during recovery for me. I don't know if it's the anesthesia or just the stress of it all, but having surgery sends me into a place that I never want to go back to. It's a dark place and a lonely place, and sadly a place where I seem to lose my voice. I can talk about it now that I am not there. But when I am there. I don't seem capable of sending up the white flag. It's hard to explain. First of all I cannot rest. I am in a weird state of hypervigilence. I don't sleep much at all. Insomnia rules. I can't seem to concentrate. Last time I couldn't even watch a tv program that had a story to it. I watched CMT and the food network 24/7. I told you! Hell on earth. I can't read a novel or even an article. And I love to read! But my mind won't land. It's too busy being on alert. I worry and fret and panic and then go back to worry again. The minutes tick by so slowly. It's just brutal. People call or talk to me and I am numb. I don't call out for them to please help me. Instead, I nod, "yes, I'm doing okay...yes, much better, thank you." But it's all lies. Nothing matters, yet not in the way where you can shrug and sleep it off. Ugh.
So, now I am just freaked out. I'm scared. I'm close to a melt down cuz I really don't want to go there. The thought of it makes me stomach hurt. It's been two years since my last surgery and the pain of recovery is still like a raw wound to me. I keep thinking I should just bail. Abort! Abort! But I know I have to do this. It won't be easier at another date. Just get it over with.
Today I went to the hospital to get an EKG and a chest X-Ray done. Being in the hospital gives me the creeps. And they snapped that little bracelet on my arm when I registered for the tests! I just about screamed. I looked at it like she had wrapped a snake around my wrist. My heart started racing, a broke out in a cold sweat. Not good. Not good at all. I'm melting down and there isn't a darn thing I can do.
Denial works good sometimes. And served me well for the month of September. But I've booked the flights, reserved the hotel room, had my preop tests. It's gonna happen. No denying it.
So, take note. Later, when I am recovering. I'm in my private hell. Come and get me. Please.
It's not that I am particularly afraid of the pain of surgery. Don't get me wrong. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Pain killers don't seem to do much for me, and I am carrying a lot of weight. Put that together with having your body filleted open and rearranged, stuffed back in and sewed up...it's gonna hurt. But I can sorta handle that. I don't like it, but it doesn't frighten me. And, yes, I think about the risks of the surgery and the possibility of dying. Not a great thought. I have a lot I want to do. People I care about that I don't want to leave. So, I don't enjoy that either, but it's not what sends the cold chill into my spine.
The really scary thing for me is the private hell that happens during recovery for me. I don't know if it's the anesthesia or just the stress of it all, but having surgery sends me into a place that I never want to go back to. It's a dark place and a lonely place, and sadly a place where I seem to lose my voice. I can talk about it now that I am not there. But when I am there. I don't seem capable of sending up the white flag. It's hard to explain. First of all I cannot rest. I am in a weird state of hypervigilence. I don't sleep much at all. Insomnia rules. I can't seem to concentrate. Last time I couldn't even watch a tv program that had a story to it. I watched CMT and the food network 24/7. I told you! Hell on earth. I can't read a novel or even an article. And I love to read! But my mind won't land. It's too busy being on alert. I worry and fret and panic and then go back to worry again. The minutes tick by so slowly. It's just brutal. People call or talk to me and I am numb. I don't call out for them to please help me. Instead, I nod, "yes, I'm doing okay...yes, much better, thank you." But it's all lies. Nothing matters, yet not in the way where you can shrug and sleep it off. Ugh.
So, now I am just freaked out. I'm scared. I'm close to a melt down cuz I really don't want to go there. The thought of it makes me stomach hurt. It's been two years since my last surgery and the pain of recovery is still like a raw wound to me. I keep thinking I should just bail. Abort! Abort! But I know I have to do this. It won't be easier at another date. Just get it over with.
Today I went to the hospital to get an EKG and a chest X-Ray done. Being in the hospital gives me the creeps. And they snapped that little bracelet on my arm when I registered for the tests! I just about screamed. I looked at it like she had wrapped a snake around my wrist. My heart started racing, a broke out in a cold sweat. Not good. Not good at all. I'm melting down and there isn't a darn thing I can do.
Denial works good sometimes. And served me well for the month of September. But I've booked the flights, reserved the hotel room, had my preop tests. It's gonna happen. No denying it.
So, take note. Later, when I am recovering. I'm in my private hell. Come and get me. Please.
Comments
We had a conversation about "God doesn't give you more than you can handle", and what that really means. Try to remember that, and don't forget that we're all here to help you "bear up under" what you've been given. Granted, you have to do most of the heavy lifting (insert hernia joke here)... but hopefully with all this company around, it won't seem like such hard work. Many hands lighten the load.
Unfortunately, having been through a number of surgeries, I know about "trying to not think about it", "frozen by fear", "lonely", "scared", and certainly the "pain (how long before it is gone?)".
You have put your trust in Dr. K and he sounds like he has a special fondness for you and helping to make things much better for you - keep remembering and believing in that, too. He wants for you to have an "easy time" - probably as much as you do.
I know these are all just "words" - but behind the words are a whole lot of love for YOU. We are always here for you and will help to "lift you up" whenever you need it.