At the end of a long slog through day surgery for a superpubic catheter on Thursday, my bro-in-law found some humor that made all of us howl with laughter. His phone has an app that randomly generates a scripture of the day and on this day it was:
He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water John 7:38
Who knew? My new appendage has a scriptural application. So far, this is the only thing I have found humor in during this whole process. The surgery itself was blessedly a few blank hours. I remember wondering 'what is the white goop in the syringe that the anesthesiologist was adding to my IV line' and then waking up in the recovery room. My doc told me that full or partial anesthesia was my choice. I knew that I didn't want to be awake for any part of this. On days when the nerve pain is bad, I wish that I could have a dose of that milky goop and wake up blissfully unaware hours later.
I was surprised by how much pain I was in by Thursday evening. It felt like a red-hot poker was jabbing into my belly every time I moved. The home health nurse assured me this was normal (why don't they explain this ahead of time?) I for one, prefer to know the cold hard reality rather than be surprised. I am getting better hour by hour. As long as I don't bend at the waist or stretch past a certain point or pick up my 8lb dog; the pain is more a dull ache.
As a chronic pain veteran, there is pain I can tolerate and then there is pain that must be responded to. The electric icicles that randomly stab my left leg, arm, face and head, and lately my right thigh as well, can't be ignored. These jabs suck all the light from the room and reduce my focus to a square inch of my anatomy. I gasp, I cry, I fold up like a fortune cookie. I don't think I could live if this type of pain came much more frequently.
So, the next chapter opens with the subheading, 'life with a belly cath.' I haven't lived with it long enough to have an opinion. Right now it doesn't seem real that part of my anatomy is running on a new track. I hope that once I work through the initial struggles of adjusting to this new normal; it will be just that: Normal
No Gifts Please—after all—Where to Register?
Should I throw a bon voyage party for my bladder? After all we haven't had the best relationship over the past few years and lately are barely communicating at all. Next Wednesday, with a one-day surgical procedure, my bladder will be closed down and replaced with a suprapubic catheter. Basically, a tube that runs from my bladder out to my abdomen.
Maybe a funeral would be more appropriate. If I let the emotions surface I feel tears start to well. This is the first of my internal organs to require surgical intervention and to ultimately stop being functional. Simply too much loss to inspect too closely. People blithely tell me how much easier my life will be once this is done. Suggesting that it must be nice not to have to make trips to the bathroom. I'd much rather have my bladder back, thank you very much.
I also don't find anything humorous about this. Especially when folks make jokes about the new tubing being similar to how men pee. I am a girl losing her bladder function. And, to put it simply, it sucks.
After the past few weeks with a hospital stay, my permanent loss of more function, piles of medical bills, and now this surgery, our household is about at its functional threshold. A big thank you to my brother-in-law for his willingness to fly down from Alaska later this week and help us through the surgery days. I have this cartoon image in my head of the top of my husband's head popping off and steam pouring out of his ears. One of these days, it is going to happen
I think I will pass on a gala or a funeral. This is one of those invisible losses better suited to contemplation. As with everything else, I will try to move forward and not root around in memories and could have/should haves.
