Surgery Update

So I had surgery.  They put me to sleep and cut open my throat and sucked massive amounts of tissue out of my neck.  Now I have bloody steri-strips across my throat.  How's that for an update?  Sorry, had to get it out of my system.  I occasionally have to fulfill my urges to be crude and graphic.

Anyway, I had the surgery.  It went well, didn't take as long as the surgeon expected, I recovered quickly.  I say recovered but I'm not fully recovered yet.  I still can't turn my head fully from side to side.  That hurts, kind of a lot actually.  I'm not hurting enough to need pain relief any more, though.  I haven't had oxycodone since Sunday afternoon and haven't taken even acetaminophen since yesterday morning.  Pretty sweet, I say.

I was extremely nervous the morning of the surgery.  It didn't help that Paul and I sat in the waiting room and talked about possible outcomes.  Outcomes like, "What if I don't wake up?"  "What if I throw a clot and have a stroke and go into a persistent vegetative state?"  "What if I go into a coma, come out of it and can talk but can't wipe my own butt?"  That's fun stuff to talk about, huh?  Okay, not so fun, but necessary in that situation.  And besides, it did help a tiny bit.  At least at the end of it I was sure that I wouldn't be left lying in a bed with only a feeding tube keeping me alive.  Anyway, we hashed out all the possible scenarios we could and I signed my life (temporarily) into Paul's hands.  And then we both sat and read our respective books (me: Providence by Daniel Quinn, him: Lamb by Christopher Moore) while we waited for the nurse to call me back.

The nurse who prepped me for surgery was cool, if a tad overkill with her whole you're-going-to-be-fine-this-is-so-not-a-big-deal routine. She was a little too hang-ten surfer chick for me.  There was a lot of "dude" and "man" and stuff like that.  But she took very good care of me and I probably would like her very much in another setting.

I met almost everyone who was going to be in on my surgery.  I met the anesthesiologist who was scheduled to put me under but then the schedule changed and I met a new anesthesiologist.  I met a surgical resident who would be coming in to assist my surgeon.  I met the medical student who was coming in to observe.  I met the head scrub nurse and she informed me that there would be a few other nurses in there also.  And then before I knew it I had to kiss Paul good-bye.  The scrub nurse wheeled me down the hall on one of those beds with an IV pole attached to me and a chart lying across my thigh and an elastic paper cap on my head.  I was one of those people -- the sick people.  It was very surreal.

And then I was in a cold operating room and they told me to scoot over onto the operating table.  I almost refused.  For 2 seconds I was paralyzed and I almost said "No, I'm not doing that.  You're going to have to move me because I'm not doing it." But instead I looked at the dozen faces around me, at the massive lights, at the sterile fields surrounding me and at my bed and my table and I said, "Wow, there are a lot of people in here. There's a lot of stuff in here," and I moved to the table. Just about the time I was about to hyperventilate and have a major freak out, the anesthesiologist said, "I'm giving you some meds to make you sleepy." And then I woke up.

Recovery was full of odd sensations.  I could feel something in the vicinity of my throat but it didn't hurt and I was afraid to touch anything for fear of making it hurt.  My eyes were really dry and I couldn't see.  Someone gave me a saline bullet to moisten them.  I wanted to stay awake and look around but I kept falling asleep, despite my best efforts. Apparently things went very well, though because they moved me to post-op after less than an hour and I went home less than an hour after that.

I've spent the week since then slowly increasing my activity and decreasing my meds and feeling pretty good, if a little tired.  I will go back to see the surgeon on Thursday and he should have a final pathology report for me by then.  I'm crossing my fingers that it's all good and this whole thing is behind me now.

During this time I've been reminded, repeatedly, how wonderful my family and friends are.  Jenn and Caleb took over my kids for 48 hours so I didn't have to cope with homework and showers and meals and transportation.  Paul stayed with me, brought me food, pills, water and ice packs.  He reminded me how much medicine to take and when.  He called my family and friends after my surgery and let everyone know that everything turned out well.  People at work have offered me any help I might need, sent me cards and flowers, called to inquire about me, one of them cooked and froze enough food for at least 5 nights of dinners.  My grandparents sent monetary support.  These are all good, good people.  Thank you, all of you.  I really wish there were some way to re-pay you.

The Best Days

Sometimes The Best Days are extravagant, phenomenal, mesmerizing events filled with roller coasters and cotton candy and fireworks.  Sometimes The Best Days are quiet, relaxing, comfortable times spent cuddling on the couch and eating comfort foods while watching movies.  And sometimes The Best Days are ordinary ones where not much really happens.  Not much happens except the magic of your baby learning about venus fly traps and telling you all about it with the brightest, biggest, shiniest smile on his face.  Where not much happens other than catching your shy daughter singing along to this song.  Ones where you walk your kids to school and see that the P.E. teacher needs help setting up for running club, and your eldest, your first baby, your all-too-soon-an-adult child is the first to volunteer his help to her.  Sometimes those are The Best Days.

Ya Gonna Get Hitched?

No.  No, we are not getting married.

Truthfully no one has asked me that, in those exact words, but lots of people, including my own children, have asked if Paul and I are going to get married.  I suppose that is a natural question when two people of our ages have been consistently and happily seeing each other for more than a year.  But we're still not getting married.  And we're both very content with that.

Here's why we're I'm happy with that (Actually, we're both happy with that, truly. But I don't want to make a habit out of speaking for Paul. He's capable of speaking for himself but he's not writing on this blog. Anyway, we've talked about this and we agree, so there you have it.) :

1. I had a pretty terrible marriage and Paul's was way worse than mine.  Seriously, it was badbadbadbadbad.  Bad. And those are just the parts he's told me about.  I know that doesn't mean a second would be so horrible for either of us but who wants to test it?  Really.
2. I rather enjoy caring for my children alone.  And by that I mean, I don't really enjoy it (because really, who enjoys being 99.5% responsible for the care and well-being of 3 human beings alone?), at least not 100% of the time. But I do mean that adding someone else and his child to this equation certainly aren't going to make it any easier to solve.  Paul and Cole are both great guys but this household has all it can handle right now.
3. I much prefer being able to do my own thing when I want to -- or at least when the child situation allows for it -- rather than having to constantly consider someone else's wishes when deciding what to do with myself. If I want to veg on the couch in my PJs and eat popcorn and watch crap TV all day or play TheSims I don't want to feel like I'm infringing on someone else's desire and/or need to go on a motorcycle ride or run errands or do laundry all day.
4. My kids have enough crap to deal with when transitioning from Albuquerque to here and back without adding more relationships to our home.  There are already too many people to deal with in Albuquerque.  They don't see it that way because they are 10, 9 and 7 but it takes a toll on them whether they realize it or not.  I'm not willing to add more stress and confusion and anxiety to their lives (and mine) by adding more people to it.
5. I much prefer simplicity, when possible, to complexity.

People say things like: 

But you need someone!!!

Why? For what?  I have someone who loves me, laughs with me, commiserates with me, does nice things for me.  We drink wine together, we have a great time, we have fabulous conversations.  We don't need to live together or be married to do these things.


You have to think about yourself! (This is usually in response to Number 4 above.)
I am thinking about myself.  I don't want to deal with the baggage that 2 step- & half-families bring with them.  These children have enough to deal with and so do I. The people telling me to think about myself are not the people sitting with my children, rubbing their backs and handing them tissues as they cry about missing the babies and the dad and the step-mom in Albuquerque.  Their hearts don't hurt like that.

You shouldn't be alone!
I'm not. Believe me. I'm not alone by a long shot. Right now I have 3 people running around me, requiring food and beverage and showers and entertainment and discipline and teaching and encouragement and affection and attention and all the other myriad things human beings require. I'm happy to give it to them. It's easier to give them what they require when I'm not also giving it to others. They deserve that and so do I.

But, but, but ... what if ... ?

What if what? What if Paul leaves me? What if he decides he's done with me? What if ... ? You know what? Someone already decided he was done with me. Being married to me didn't change that he wanted other people. And I left him. The marriage certificate didn't keep me there. Being married another time wouldn't change any of that. There are second divorces just like there are second marriages. "Two Divorces" sounds a lot worse than "Another Break-Up."  And it's a lot more expensive, too.  I'd rather not be "Twice-Divorced Chick."

I'm not closing the door on marriage forever.  I've lived through enough to know better than to say "Never" to almost anything.  However, I am saying "No" to marriage for a long time.  At this time, and for a long time, it's not for me.  And you know what?  I'm extremely grateful to have found a man who agrees with me.  He's a good one -- maybe even a keeper. / tongue-in-cheek

Surgery

Well I have a follicular neoplasm in my throat.  That means my thyroid contains atypical cells and no one is sure if they're malignant or not and they can't tell unless they take them out.  So I'm going to have the left side of my thyroid removed.  It's all scheduled, pre-authorized with the insurance company and I'm pre-registered with the hospital.  All I have to do now is fill out the living will and advance directive.  I'm not looking forward to that.

I know exactly what I want to be done with my body if the big "What If ..." happens but I don't like thinking about it.  Paul and I talked about it a lot when he had surgery last year.  I've talked about it with Jenn and Caleb and Lance, too.  I've talked about it a little with Mom and Dad.  I'm confident that everyone who matters will make sure that my wishes are honored if and when that time comes.  But putting it into writing is just different.  It's so final.  I guess that makes sense -- they're final wishes.  I know I can change it if I change my mind, but as of September 15 at 1:30 pm it's Final until I wake up.  I think that's the thing that has me on edge -- that this could be Final.  It's not likely to be, but it could be.

Wow, I'm morbid this morning.

I'll be glad to have this over with.  It's not like my thyroid has been a huge source of worry and pre-occupation for me but it will be nice not to have to think about it at all any more.  No more biopsies, no more ultrasounds, no more anything.  Just get it cut out and be done with it.

The surgeon is of the opinion that I can probably avoid thyroid replacement hormones.  I like that.  I don't want to mess with them, with mood swings or hair loss or temperature intolerance or weight gain.  The surgeon and the endo both think that since my left side is not normal at all the right side is compensating for it and can probably continue to do so.  Neither of them think we need to do anything with the right side -- it's perfectly thyroid-ish and not at all nodule-ish.  Yay for that, huh?

So there it is.  After 31 years of no surgeries, almost no scars and being hospitalized only for childbirths, I'm going to have A Thing.  A Surgery. A Story.