Two months ago i took off to Paris in search of answers, of relief, of a solution. I hugged my mom as if it would be the last, I took the plane and headed to Paris. I had tests done, spoke with the surgeon and the difficult decision was made to have me undergo yet another heavy surgery.
Even though I expected it, although I know it's necessary to give me quality of life, so I can have a day without pain, yet it still felt like I was hit with a ton of bricks.
I retreated, I tried to hide from what is to come. I wept. And I tried so hard not to think of September 26th, the date of my upcomming surgery. I lived the last month and a half in a daze, a fog really. No desire or energy to do much of anything, insomnia settled in. Pain is my daily compagnion and depression is my roommate.
Over the course of the last 4 weeks my digestive and pain meds were adjusted 4 times. for the last 2 weeks I've been taking up to 25 pills a day, meal time has become more of a chore than anything else and again today i found myself in my Doctors office crying because i could no longer stand the pain. This past sunday the latest combination of meds stopped being effective but i'm not one to run to the Doctor the minute i feel pain. I waited a couple days to see if It would go away, if restricting my diet even further would help, it only intensifyed. By this afternoon i was in so much pain, i could not lay down, sit or stand. I was reassured by the Doctor's examination that my stomach and intestines, though painfull, were still supple (any ridgidity would indicate a possible blockage)
Up until lunch today this was my 3 times a day 'appetizer' with a large glass of water with an extra Nexium (not pictured) pill at night. From left to right there's the Creon for Digestion, gas pill (gas is stretching my innars - stomach, intestines - and causing pain as it tugs against my inside scars) the other 3 are to relax my stomach, the little one is for the nausea and the last two for pain.
This afternoon my treatment was readjusted once more. I've always been reticent where pain meds are concerned. I'd always take the minimum dosage and try to bare the pain as much a possible. The required dosage would make me nauseus and woosie. But beyond that I absolutely don't want to become dependant on pain meds. Having exhausted all other options I was precribed morphine today. I fought back the tears as i got the script filled. I have yet to take any, i don't want to but i have to. It's a mental struggle for me, i can't delay diner to much though. I have so much to deal with as it is I don't want to take any risk of dependancy. Now i have to take 5 pills a day Morphine being one of them and a powder to dissolve in water. I was precribed something to help with the constipation the morphine will cause.
As of today, I feel it's more of a ''let's keep her comfortable until she goes into the Hospital in a couple of weeks'' type scenario.
Besides the physical struggle - which almost landed me in the hospital one sunday afternoon a couple of weeks ago - these last few months have been a HUGE mental battle for me. I have gone into all my previous surgeries as a warrior ready for battle! Now as this new surgery looms I struggle to find my mojo, my positive outlook on life in general and of this process in particular.
For the first time I feel fear, real fear! I asked my pastor early August of the presence of fear meant the absence of Faith. I doesn't.
The Surgeon will go in (not laproscopically, there's simply too much scaring) slice off a piece of my pancreas (where it's blocked up again) and reattach. It's the same procedure i had in 2010. It's a 6 hour procedure and recovery will be painfull and difficult. In 2010 I was sufficiently removed from the first surgery that I'd forgotten how difficult and excruciating recovery is.
This time it's still very fresh in my mind. Added to that the pulmonary embolism/heart problem that i had last time, I'm a blubering mess. My GP told me they very rare the problems I had last time so i'm praying lightening doesn't strike twice.
I've been quiet. When I get depressed I get quiet. I don't recognise myself. I had to learn to be strong even as a little girl. Today I struggle to find that strenght. I try to find the lesson in each day and in each life experience (finding the lesson, the silver linning in the dark clouds of life keep me sane), the lesson here may very well be that i can't rely on my strenght alone. In the past few months I've had to open up and let others help. From being in adult diapers the last time i was hopitalized to asking my mom to help me pay my rent this summer when my file was help up due to clerical error and insurance was backed up.
Today I ask you my readers -if you are still out there- to pray, chant, meditate, send good vibes for me. Words of encouragement, stories of survival, jokes to distract me everything is welcome.
Thanks for reading
xo
Gisele
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