Recovery....

Last week about this time I was starting to get nervous. I was staying busy and trying to accomplish every thing I possibly could in a short amount of time. It has seemed that my summer has been that way. On the days I have felt well, I have tried to accomplish more than necessary because I never knew if the next day would be a good day or not. I guess I didn't realize how bad things had gotten. I didn't realize how constant my pain had become. My normal was not a good place to be.

I have to say I dreaded Friday. As I read people post how ready they were for the weekend, I, for once, wanted the week to go slow and not speed to the end. As Friday got closer, my fear and anxiety got stronger. Sleep became a non-existent thing in my life. Surgery was coming quickly and I was not ready.

I would like to say my faith was so strong that I had no fear and that I was confident in God's protection. I can't say that. I was a mess. I did get better and did feel God saying I would be okay, but fear was controlling my life. I cried more and took in every moment like it was my last. I think NOW how silly I was being, but still it was where I was at the time, so even now I can't be mad at myself. I will try to explain....

I have never had surgery. My experience with hospitals was having babies....I would come home with a PRIZE for my time in the hospital. Even though those times did bring fears with them, it was different. There wasn't some unknown something wrong with me. There was a prize at the end of those hospital stays. This time was different. We knew there was a problem. At least 3 fibroid tumors, golf ball sized, were causing me pain that would keep me in bed and make me feel that everything inside of me was rebelling against me. After visiting with my doctor, I knew she had a plan on taking them out and "looking" for any other problems that might be going on. With the pain I had, I knew there had to be more. So, fear grew.....

Thursday was hard. It was a busy day filled with doctor's appointment and preadmission stuff....getting blood drawn, having an EKG, filling out tons of papers, etc. I also had several things to do before I was unable to do anymore! I had bills to make sure were paid. Shopping that had to be done. It felt like I was planning on being gone for an undetermined amount of time. Which in my mind was true. I had no idea what would happen.

Friday came and I kissed my girls goodbye and Mike and I headed to the hospital. Two hours early, like instructed, and then sat there waiting and waiting and waiting. That was not good on my nerves. Mike was great. Holding my hand and reassuring me the whole time. Then it was time for more paper work. More tests. Friends and family started showing up to wait with Mike and then it was time. Back to the pre-op room to get ready. Have you ever worn compression stockings? Ask me about them sometime. Those were interesting! :) Sitting in a cold room with many others, only separated by curtains. Doctors in and out. Answering the same questions over and over....the wrong doctor coming in to see me....a little unsettling. Then finally a calm presences....my anesthesia tech. Calm. Explaining each step to us. Finally a little peace. Once the IV was in and my doctor came to see me, it was time. Again, I kissed Mike and Ashton goodbye and told them I would see them soon. I looked at the lights as they rolled me down the hall and in to the OR while listening somewhat to the chatter of my nurse and the anesthesia tech. I remember being moved to the table from the bed and then...........................

Over two hours later I began waking up in recovery. Over two hours in surgery and then almost 2 1/2 in recovery...maybe more. It was about 5:30 when I finally got to my room. My surgery started at 11:10. I remember the nurse waking me up and me fighting to get out of bed. I wanted up. I wanted to see Mike and I needed to talk to Ashton before she left for work. I wanted them to know I was okay. I wanted them to know I was awake. I needed to see them. Can you believe the nurse called me "combative?" ME? I guess I probably was. I didn't really know what was going on at first. Once I did, I calmed down and just waited, but I really wanted my family with me. Finally they started moving me to my room. I vaguely remember that. It is such a blur. I just remember seeing my hubby, then I was able to rest.

The rest has been about the same. Mike made sure I made it through that first night. Along with him, my friend, really more of a sister, also stayed with me through the night. Talking to me when I would rattle on and on about who knows what or when I was needing to push the button to send me a bit more pain medication. I watched the two of them fight to stay awake just to make sure I was okay. I was relieved when they each took a turn at sleeping. Then the next day with my family and friends coming up to see me. Most of the morning was still a blur. I was not really feeling well, but after lunch, after another nap, I started to get some strength back. Sunday was the best! It was so nice to have all 3 of my girls with me for the first time. My baby girl got to come up and climbed in bed with me. That was perfect. Then my friends joined us and we celebrated Sunday together.

Home is great. I'm tired and moving slowly. I just feel so blessed to have my family with me and to be back at home. I survived surgery. I survived the unknown and it looks like they got everything that was giving me trouble. Now it is time for rest and recovery. Parts of me want to get up and get busy, but then my body reminds me that I must rest. I'm just happy to be home, with my family.