#34

Hello! It's me again, you know your favorite Military Wife and Dis' Able Mom blogger. Like I said before, even if I'm not your favorite...lie to me. It makes for a much more pleasant exchange the next time we meet again in person. :)

So my last blog was on the 19th. I had planned on writing again the next day, but things got shoved into overdrive in my house with my impending surgery. I was going to write about how my emotions got the best of me again this time, but decided against it. I thought that writing about my emotional status due to my impending surgery (#34 for me) would make me seem more like a whiner and less like my super mom persona that I try to portray.

In hindsight, I now realize that writing about my emotional status of impending surgery #34 was exactly what I needed. It would have helped me to sort out my emotions and why I was so afraid to have these in particular. You see, after 34 surgeries I feel as though I should be an old pro at this and that fear has no place in this game for me, but this time was different. Nope, #34 (as I shall refer to it from now on), was different for me. It brought back the fear of the unknown for me. Number 34 was special in a sense that it was a surgery that in the past 30 years I had been fortunate enough to never have to have (since the initial surgery at birth at least).

For the first time in a long time, things were different when it came to #34. When I let myself stop and think about it, I had anxiety...serious anxiety. When I stopped to think about what made #34 different, it hit me like a ton of bricks...the difference was that now I had a husband and a little girl to think about. What if something had gone wrong? Would I still be around and able to take care of her? Would I be able to keep life as normal as possible for her if somethng would have gone wrong? And, then the worst question of all hit me; what if something went wrong, and I wasn't here at all?

This made me think about my own choices, and how #34 came about. For the past 3 1/2 years I have beeen battling with insurance and doctors alike to make me feel better. My hydracephalus (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydracephalus) shunt had been stuck on scar tissue for so long that it was affecting my sleeping habits, which we all know can lead to a change in attitude, quality of life, and the commencement of daily activities. For those of you who have children, you know that this can't go on for long as our children are busy and stay that way. I had been told on several occasions that my shunt tubing was stuck on my collar bone, which was causing scar tissue to tear and pull every time the tubing got stuck. Not a pleasurable experience by any means.

Anyway, after 3 1/2 years I finally found an amazing doctor who was willing to get the job done. We scheduled surgery over the Thanksgiving weekend as that was his holiday to be on call and my husband's school schedule allowed him to be off during that time to help me with our daughter. (I had other help, but I'll elaborate on that in my next post as it deserves a post all to itself).

Wait a minute, this post is getting way too involved and informative....fast forward....

I was set to be at the hospital on Wednesday, November 25th @ 1pm for a surgery time of 3pm. The surgery that I had fought so hard for was finally going to happen, and feeling better was now within my sights. The night before, I was packing my bag when the fear suddenly hit me with a force that would have knocked me to my feet. For the first time in a long time, I was panicking about a surgery. This was new to me, and I in no way, shape or form liked the way it made me feel.

Wednesday morning when I woke up I felt panicky. I did as I was told though and had a clear liquid breakfast (broth and water...better known as prison food...not a clear liquid diet) thinking that I would soon let this panick feeling go. I would soon realize that what I was doing was best as I would feel better afterwards and life could get back to normal. James took Caylee to get something to eat before we were set to drop her off at the CDC. While he was gone, the hospital called me to see if we could be there early as the doctor was ahead of schedule. I quickly told her we would be there as soon as we could and hung up the phone.

As I dropped Caylee off at the CDC I had a hard time letting her go. I was terrified that if something were to happen to me that this would be the last time that I would ever see my little girl. That is not a thought that I would wish on my worst enemy, as it is a completely empty and dark feeling to have. I finally gave her a hug and kiss goodbye and walked back to the truck where James was awaiting my return. On the way to the hospital I had a hard time keeping the tears contained. They seemed to come no matter how hard I wished them away, and I remember praying for the first time in a long time. I prayed for God to see me through this and to watch over my family during my ordeal no matter how big or small it turned out to be. I prayed until the anesthesia worked its magic, and I was off to dreamland...

TO BE CONTINUED....

P.S. I should probably mention that before surgery I was also worried about the issue of my hair and the potential lack of hair that I could have when I woke up. So, to make sure that the doctors understood my worry, I posted a lable on the front of my hospital gown with this message.... "MY NAME IS NOT G.I. JANE!!! PLEASE DON'T SHAVE MY HEAD.