Among a lot of junk mail and catalogs addressed to my kids, there was a large envelope addressed to me that I at first also thought was junk. But the return address, Smilow Cancer Hospital, meant that it needed to be read. It was a pocket folder that looked just like one that I had before, that I kept with me for quite a long time. The folder contained all of my Pre-OP instructions for my upcoming surgery on May 18, 2016. Bam. Welcome back my nemesis: anxiety.
Less than one month after my horrible wound, that was roughly the size of a football and over 1" deep, finally healed, I felt a sharp pain one night that felt very much like a stitch you get in your side when you run or walk too fast. The next morning, I noticed a slight puffiness in that area but instantly jumped on a train that goes to one of my favorite spots, denial. There was no freakin' way that what my surgeons had warned me might happen in the future was happening to me now! But over the next two days, what began as puffiness, quickly became a large bulge the size of a tennis ball. Another large hernia had ripped through my deteriorating fascia in my belly.
I got to my surgeons right away and a CT scan showed not only the large hernia but, in addition, a "swiss cheese pattern" (I love my surgeon's sense of humor) of smaller hernias across the top of my abdomen under the rib cage. All of this deterioration in less than three months since my discharge from the hospital last fall. Because MRSA lies dormant in your system after acquiring it, trauma, of any kind, especially surgery, is highly likely to stir it up to full force again. None of my doctors wants to operate on me right now, but they must because now the hernia at times bulges to the size of a baseball and is extremely painful. After consulting with the Infectious Disease docs at length, surgery was scheduled. I really didn't feel the anxiety while having discussion with the docs. I easily fell into my Scarlett O'Hara persona, "I'll think about that tomorrow". Well, it's getting close to 'tomorrow'; 33 days to go.
I have been wildly busy the past couple of months trying to Save Our Water from the nasty MDC and Niagra Bottling, giving speeches, organizing events, lobbying, you name it; which has been great because the project has become a wonderful outlet to release a lot of anger and resentments that otherwise threaten to drown me. Ken was laid off a few weeks ago, we were literally blindsided and are still in quite a bit of shock. But knowing that God has heard my prayers and answered them time and time again, fear never took hold. In fact, several opportunities are being played out that might enable Ken to not travel nearly as much. I am still a bit angry at his boss, I take it out on the MDC.
But even while being at the Capital or speaking in front of large groups, I have basically held my insides in place by a large binder that acts (and feels) I imagine, very much like a corset would. Breathing deeply is a challenge. And pain. I have a lot of it that my docs try to control with pain patches and oral medications.
But there is lots more to come. And that is why I cannot sleep tonight.
I think that having the tangible proof of my upcoming surgery and its associated pain, in my hands by means of the folder, set off some subconscious primal reaction to fear of pain that I have been taken hostage by so many times. Having been free from its grasp for a few months, I naively thought that I had mastered it. But there is no mastering, there is only controlling it by becoming aware of it and not trying to run from it. So it's time to start preparing myself, mentally and physically. It is time to start identifying my feelings and anxieties and begin to methodically deal with them, the same way I did last year and the same way that I teach others how to each week at my Mindfulness Meditation group.
With only 33 days left until surgery, there is so much for me to get done, but really the most important thing for me to do each day is nothing for 30 minutes each day - but breathe. Master my anxious thoughts, be present in the moment. Not think about the past, nor worry about the future. Just breathe.
Also, I need to do a caffeine and sugar detox...
I'll think about that tomorrow.
Namaste.
Kim
