Still Alive!

"Still Alive!"  That's a quote from one of our kids' funny movie favs.  We say it all the time when we come out of a stressful situation or even a funny situation or, in my case, a minor procedure, where we half-think "we could have died!"  But, I didn't die.  In fact, I was back on my feet the next day at soccer games with my kids.

The most time for any kind of fear or anxiety came in the 3 hours I was waiting in the waiting room.  Ah, the waiting room.  That sounds like a great name for a book.  The waiting room of life is where all the life lessons happen.  In that first waiting room and then in the next waiting room where I was prepped for surgery and then in the waiting hall and then in the waiting Operating Room was where I learned all my lessons. 

I learned that I am one of the few people in this world who has rarely been in a hospital....except for giving birth, and even then I was out of there so fast they barely saw me.  I've never had broken bones, diseases, stitches......nothing.  The anesthesiologist was quite happy with me and said, "You're in great health!"  Yes, I am.  Why am I not more grateful for that every day?  So, I laid there, covered in a sheet just thanking God for my health because I really hated being there.   Meanwhile, other people, other kids, even babies, spend half their life in a hospital. 

I was also grateful that my kids have been healthy.  We have gone for the odd stitch, the odd virus, even had an overnight stay when one of my kids got viral meningitis, but he recovered!  Other people go to the hospital with a child and don't come back with their child.  I found myself counting my blessings for all my healthy children, all my healthy nieces and nephews, and for all my parents and in-laws.  Amazing.

And though I was absolutely hating the whole waiting process, hating the unknown, I was also doing research, half-enjoying the process of having nurses poke me with needles, cover me with warm blankets, wheel me down hallways.  I was getting an education on what it is like to be in a hospital.  I was observing all the jobs that different people have, like the nurses, doctors, janitors.  I was thinking to myself the whole time, "Could my child do this? or that?"  I was ready to interview all the people working on me!  How can so many thoughts go on in one person's head in such a short time - on the one hand, I'm freaking out inside, but at the same time I'm ready to interview people about their jobs!?  So funny.  I think I'm a very funny person.

God even sent me someone to the first waiting room that I could chat with.  In came a man and his wife who, I assume, was having a day surgery like me.  I recognized him immediately as being a farmer who had baled our hay several years.  We got to talking and they now had 8 kids just like us.  We talked about funny 8 kid things, like "where do you fit all your kids in beds?"  It was just "what the doctor ordered", someone to get my thoughts off myself for a few minutes and just talk about nonsense. 

I was having to keep my nervous thoughts in check.  Having never ever undergone a surgical procedure of any kind, I was constantly fighting the anxiety, but I was able to have my phone up until the last minute before they took me in and from the day before until the morning of, I got countless texts from friends and family, that would just be one-liners saying how I was being thought of or prayed for.  Thank you, God, for phones?!   Never would anyone a few years ago been able to get those tangible messages of comfort, which I certainly needed in those hours before.  I chose to breathe deeply and rest in the fact I knew people were praying for me.

And then, the rest, the forced rest.  I loved being taken care of!  Even though the nurse told me, "So you're going in for a hysterectomy?"  UH, NO!!!!  She read the surgery words wrong!  And even though one of the other nurses said, "So is it THAT one?"  pointing to me.  I was a "that" in her mind.  Not a "her", a "that".  She clearly has had enough of her job and looks at people as just another object to get done.  And even though my legs were used as a table and I was not spoken to once about how I was feeling, I still felt oddly taken care of.  I felt confident in their abilities and was, again, so grateful for Canada (even though I did hang out in the hallway on a gurney for awhile like I was in a third world) and for our health care. 

They took a pregnancy test the morning of the procedure just so an unfortunate accident wouldn't occur. 

The nurse asked, "You weren't trying to get pregnant were you?" 

"Well, no, but you just never know, right?  I wouldn't be upset at all if I found out I was pregnant." 

"What?!  How many kids do you have?"

"8."

She looked at me with eyes wide open and jaw down.  By this point I was seconds away from oxygen and being put under, yet the conversation continued.

"That must be so expensive!  All I think about is them all going to university!"  Now the oxygen mask is near my head.  I started to explain how my son raised puppies to pay for it all.

"What kind of puppies?"

The next thing I know the oxygen is on and I still hear her asking me questions, but I was out.  I woke up with a feeling like I had bit my tongue.  It hurt for days!  I was probably still answering questions about my strange large expensive family while I was going under and bit my tongue in the process!  Ouch!

Once it was all said and done, it was no big deal.  I woke up in no pain and went home a couple hours later to a couple of wonderful meals made by family. 

So the whole experience has been an odd blessing to teach me how blessed we are, to remind me I don't want to be there again, but if I do go, to be even thankful that a place like that exists.  I'm grateful for nurses and doctors, even mean ones.  I'm grateful for the proximity of the hospital, minutes from my home.  I'm grateful for teaching colleges and universities that exist to teach these careers!  I was grateful for even the job opportunities it opened up to me that my kids could maybe do!  I am just plain grateful.  I sit here as if nothing happened which means they must have done a good job!  Pathology is coming.  I'm not too worried.  I suppose there is a small chance (the doctor said a very small chance) that it could come with bad news which I assume would mean more surgery, but at least now I know what would be in store for me.  No more surprises.

Back to "regular" life and all that comes with that.  But I am grateful for that, too, because my regular life doesn't normally involve hospitals whereas for some it does.  I tried to communicate all this to my kids, but even just writing about it again reminds me I should do this every day, reminding them to be grateful every single day, for everything.