T-8 Days
I wanted to come home and write about my experience yesterday, but I needed time to process it.
First of all, I was scared. Not of the procedure itself, but of the outcome. I got ready, I wrote my T-9 story, I chatted through text with some friends, and stared out my window. At one point I picked up my puppy so she could comfort me. Her ears are soft like velvet, and when I pet her, it’s win-win. It makes me calm and she falls asleep. But she was antsy and wanted to play.
Finally, it was time to go. But I couldn’t find my coat (it was in my car; see Losing It). I noticed it was foggy in the city and decided to change from capri pants to long pants. I couldn’t find my shoes.
Eventually, I was on my way. I had a heck of a time getting my motivational music to play because my car was being a jerk. By the way, I appreciate that cars are trying to stop people from fiddling with their phones. But for the love of God and all that is holy, why is it like cracking a 9-part code to get my car to play the music I want to hear? Just because I am SITTING in my car? Not even moving!!
* adjusting my clothing and smoothing my hair *
I’m fine now. I just lost my cool for a moment.
I was told to park in the basement of the parking garage, but when I arrive, I don’t see a parking garage. It ended up being there, but it was hard to see. The TOP floor was actually level with the ground. After driving around in endless circles, I eventually found how to get to the bottom.
The main door to the facility was blocked off for construction.
After all of the rushing and last minute issues, I arrive early. It’s a miracle.
I am quickly taken back to another waiting room where I sit, alone. That’s when the nerves hit. I feel like I need a bathroom, but there is no one around to ask. After what feels like an eternity (but is probably only 5 or 10 minutes), I am taken back to a room.
This is where my day actually turns south.
To give a little bit of background, I am not an easy-going, showy person. I don’t know how else to say that, except I don’t walk around in my underwear. In front of friends or at home. I don’t leave my door open when I change. I don’t run to the laundry room in my bra to get a shirt out of the dryer. I just don’t.
So when I found out the ultrasound was an INTERNAL one, I just about had a panic attack. And then she tells me to go to the bathroom, completely undress from the waist down, and walk ACROSS THE ROOM to the bed thingy. Which had two pillows: one regular one for my head, and a thick, funky-shaped one for my butt. I asked for a robe or something. She told me to just cover myself with the sheet when I got to the bed.
OMFG!!
When she comes back in, I am uncomfortably in place. Once things are underway, I try to relax (as much as a person can when in this horrible circumstance) and will it to be over.
At first it was ok. I mean, not ok. But ok as it can be with someone moving a wand around a very private area. But then it took a turn.
It started to hurt as she kept jamming it around, and I told her such. It turned out she was able to get pictures of one part, but couldn’t find the other side to take pictures. She was having to move my colon around to find it.
Let’s just stop right there and let that sink in for a minute.
She was .. MOVING .. MY COLON .. WITH A WAND .. TO TAKE PICTURES OF SOMETHING THAT SHE COULD NOT FIND!
And if that wasn’t enough, she started pushing down on my stomach to help.
..
..
..
..
Eventually, she gave up and decided to do an exam where she put jell on my belly and looked for it from the outside.
Um, why didn’t we START with that??
When I got home, I took a shower and cried.
I know that I am a sensitive person. I KNOW it. You don’t have to tell me that.
But I wonder: how do other people handle these situations? Do they go about their day? Is it no big deal?
Last night, I woke up crying. I was crying in my dream because my leg was hurting. When I woke up, it was because my leg was actually hurting.
Yesterday’s appointment hadn’t hurt my stomach. It was so jarring, it irritated whatever is causing me to need surgery in the first place. In 8 days.
So now, 8 days away from surgery, I am sitting with ice. Trying not to think about how much I hurt. Wondering about the results of yesterday’s horrific appointment.