I'm not the best at almost dying, not really. So before the surgery yesterday I wrapped my hands around Mike's and said a prayer. "Dear God, I've never been overly worried about having surgery, but today I am. I'm normally so tough that no one knows I'm scared about this krap. But, God, I'm terrified. If I die, I'd really like to meet you. And if I get to meet you--in Heaven--I'd really like the extended stay program--with benefits."
"Benefits?" Mike asked, interrupting my prayer. "You want a pool next to your cloud house?" Now, before I go on, let me tell you that Mike is an atheist. And I thought it was so wonderful that he held my hands despite the fact that I pray to a God he doesn't believe in, that I had an IV in one hand, and that I was shaking with fear.
"Yeah, benefits," I replied. "Meaning, I'd get to see ALL of my loved ones who have passed already--especially my son--AND that I could go fishing--near my cloud house."
Mike nodded, then closed his eyes, and that amazing man actually started praying--not because he believes in it, but because I do. "God, please help my wife." Tears came to my eyes. "Help her be okay." There was another pause. "God, I love you."
When I opened up my eyes, and wiped the tears away, I looked up at the ceiling and saw a forest-scene with light coming through the trees. If THAT wasn't terrifying, I don't know what is. Wouldn't it be more straight-forward to just put a tunnel on the ceiling--WITH A LIGHT AT THE END OF IT? If they really think you're gonna die during surgery, there's no need to beat around my bush! Beat around the bush--who comes up with these sayings?
Everyone was amazing. The nurses and doctors moved through the whole process quite seamlessly. Some of my friends from work stopped by. And I nearly cried when both of the medical providers I work for came to see me--that meant more than words can ever truly say.
And the whole time, despite the fact that I was so scared, I had a little bit of peace, because my in-laws were up here, taking care of the kids. Mike and I just got married in September, and his parents are already stepping up to the plate, driving out of state to help us with the same kids they only met two years ago.
So I got one woman-ball removed (my ovary), and a Fallopian tube. I guess all of that is called a right laparoscopic and salpingo-oopherectomy--which I loved saying after I woke up from the surgery. That isn't surprising given these two pics.
Before painkillers:
AFTER painkillers:
The news that does concern me about the surgery, is that when the doctor removed the tumor that had grown inside of my right ovary, he found not two, but three little, dense growths on my cervix. You just love that I'm writing about all of this, don't you. I'm surprised myself. I never thought I'd write about my cervix on this blog--what a twist of fate!
So the tumor and it's growth babies have been sent to pathology.
And now, I'm hurting so bad that I better go. It's finally time to take more medicine. Yay--for feeling better soon.
I'll find out about the pathology next week. The doctor thinks that either the tumor is benign and the other growths show that I have endometriosis (which means that I'll need a hystorectomy), or that this could be ovarian cancer (in which case I'll be headed to the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Utah so I can get treatment from an oncologist). Who knows where all of this will go.
Sidenote: I know asking God for "the extended stay" may have been a bit dramatic, but thank God I woke up from surgery--it's the little things in life, ya know.
Sincerely,
Elisa
P.S. To borrow a quote from my dad: "You'll be all right, Elisa. You got to go on vacation without ever leaving the farm today." Yep, I guess I did....
