I will be having a tubal ligation, a diastatis rectus repair with a LOT of Gore-Tex mesh and a panniculectomy; all of which is a fancy way of saying that I am having my tubes tied, a HUGE hernia repaired and a very intensive tummy tuck, all in one surgery. I’ll be reconstructed (How ironic. I will finally stop looking like I’m wearing a big coat of fat and they will use coat-making material to accomplish that. I wonder if they can put in a hood and handwarmers, too?)
I cried when they told me I was approved; I cried – I am such a sap. Then I felt almost empty. Just about everyone has seen the kind of movie scene when the hero is fighting, fighting, fighting and finally his opponent falls to the ground. Still the hero tries to keep on fighting until a friend pulls him off and he stands there, still struggling, unable to stop fighting. Well, that’s a little how I felt. For the longest time, all I could do was breathe. I was so happy; yet so empty inside that I could almost hear my insides buzzing. I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s how I felt. Now, when I called my Mom, she was yelling and “woo-hoo”ing and “praise Jesus”-ing like crazy. Then, when I told Smoothie, she literally jumped up and down cheering and then hugged me tight. She stopped and clapped a hand to her mouth when she realized that this was not The Big Company sanctioned behavior. Given the fact that she is 7 months pregnant with Smoothie-Boy, this was a little scary. In fact, my boss said, “Pregnant girl, you need to stop jumping!” – and she NEVER says “girl”. It is “woman”, thank you.
Now, I was jumping up and down and flushing like a toilet inside, but outside I was pretty calm; smiling a lot and still concentrating on breathing. I almost felt guilty for not acting as excited. I know, however, that I felt as much, or even more, joy than they did. This has been my fight, my struggle for six months. It feels good to lay it down. My surgeon congratulated me and said it was proof of persistence. Well, yeah, I did a lot of work, but I still think God had the most to do with it. Everyone who knows me helped me pray for a miracle and that’s what I got. A just-in-time-but-not-too-late miracle. That’s God; never late, but always in the door just in time, it seems.
As of today, I have about one month before the surgery, during which time I need to get a TON of work done at The Big Company so that I can go on a medical leave and not feel guilty. I know that some of my friends at work will tease me about taking medical leave in August and say, “isn’t that convenient?” Well, let them. Anyone who thinks that I have signed up for Club Med has another thing coming. First of all, I am having three surgeries in one sitting. I’ve already had hernias repaired twice and given birth by caesarean section, so trust me, I know what I am in for and it is NOT PRETTY. I will be in a pretty significant amount of pain. Also, I will have to wear an elastic body-stocking kind of thing during the hottest month of the year. Finally, I am diabetic and I take about 5 shots of insulin a day. I take them in my stomach. After the surgery, for a while anyway, I will need to take the shots in my leg (ouch!). So, this ain’t no freakin’ vacation, peoples. Oh well. I’ll put up with it – the return will be so much greater than the investment. I like getting a good return on a pain investment. I mean, look at Tiglet… that little peach is the joy of my life. One day of 12 hours of labor, sent home; another day of 18.5 hours of labor, then 4.5 hours of pushing and finally a c-section. Now THAT was an investment in pain, but what a return!
Boy, I can’t wait for July 29!