Last week at this time, I was in the operating room of our local hospital undergoing a 3.5 hour surgery that I still could not believe was actually happening to me, even though I had known for over a month that the day would be coming. I didn’t tell many people about it because it wasn’t something that came up in ordinary conversation and well, honestly I just don’t have very many people I talk to on a regular basis. It wasn’t something anyone could see from the outside, nor was it something anyone would expect someone of my age to have going on. IF anyone even knew such a thing could happen in the first place. I certainly didn’t. And it wasn’t about something impersonal, like my shoulder.
Someone: How’s it going?
Me: Fine, except that my uterus is severely prolapsed all of a sudden, as in falling out of my body and shoving my bladder out of whack on the way.
Someone: Wow. TMI.
(Sorry, male readers.)
So, yeah, the deviant organ is now gone along with some previously unknown extra junk, some repairs have been made, and I am left with a bruised, bloated, and battle-scarred belly and lots of down time to think about stuff.
The first thing that came to mind was the quote “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” My “invisible” problem reminded me that just because it’s not obvious what someone is going through, doesn’t mean that they aren’t going through something. I want to try to be less self-centered (which I have been pretty much entirely lately) and more focused on others.
Two days after my surgery, I was in severe pain (urinary tract infections, especially after surgery involving the bladder, are from the devil by the way) and the thought crossed my mind that maybe I should not have had the surgery. I wanted to go back to the way things were before, because it seemed better than the current situation. Sound like the Israelites in the desert wanting to go back to slavery in Egypt much? Patience and trust are so hard.
Some other thoughts revolved around relevant topics of general anesthesia (my first experience), modern medicine and surgery, the human body and how it can be so strong yet frail at the same time, and a whole slew of things I’ll just group under childbearing.
I tend to mark time by big life events, and this certainly counts as one for me. I’m trying not to consider this “the summer of disappointment” or “the boring summer where mom can’t do much.” For now I’ll consider it “the summer of mending.”
Definition of MEND (from merriam-webster.com)
- to free from faults or defects: as
- to improve in manners or morals: reform
- to set right: correct
- to put into good shape or working order again: patch up, repair
- to restore to health: cure
- to make amends or atonement for