Awake
A banquet was held in Jim’s honor where he received the University of Minnesota’s Outstanding Community Service Award within a week after my endoscopy and stent insertion. This is a pretty prestigious award, where only four people are selected to receive it each year in an organization with more than 27,000 employees.
Even though I realized its importance to Jim, I was spent from the roller coaster ride of emotions and my first surgical procedure ever, along with the unknown tumor results. I hadn’t yet overcome the fear and anger over of my circumstances and I was still stuck mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Sometimes we face challenges in our own lives that make it impossible for us to pour ourselves out to others. While it doesn’t make the event less significant, it can cause the other person to feel as though they are walking in their celebration alone, which doesn’t feel like much of a celebration when you can’t share it with those you love. I regret not being able to be there for Jim when he was so dedicated to me in the midst of my battle. However, there would be more opportunties to support him in the future and it was a lesson learned for me.
Jim and I were close. By this time, we had raised our three kids who had left home in recent years to start charting out their own lives. We spent more time together that would have previously been used to focus on our kids. Even still, this medical event caused me to realize small areas of disconnectedness in our relationship due to my self-sufficient and independent ways engrained in me from childhood influences. I came to a place of needing to rely on Jim for survival in a greater way. Throughout this path we walked together I reached out to God for wisdom on what changes I could make to help smooth out these areas of our relationship. Walls that once divided us were being brought down and we bonded with each other like never before. We were continuing to unify or become one.
The nurse was telling me to calm down. She said, “It will be okay.”, as I woke up from my anesthesia induced sleep, gagging on the flexible tube used to guide a scope down my throat and through to my stomach so an incision can be made in the rear wall of it to get a biopsy of the tumor in my pancreas. Next I hear the doctor telling her to increase the dosage of the anesthesia. Meanwhile Jim is waiting in the lobby nervous, worried and concerned for my welfare, wondering how we were going to make it through this challenge physically, emotionally and finacially. Waiting in the lobby would be one of his routines in the coming weeks and months. He would not consider letting me do this alone. He was patiently supportive of me, even though many times I was inconsolable.
Next, I was moved into another surgical room where the stent was to be inserted by a different doctor. The medical staff ask me and confirm: “What is your name, what is your date of birth, what are you here for?” Those three questions are a primary part of my life for the next year.
People are not supposed to wake up when the doctor is performing an endoscopy, but I did. I overlooked the error and was happy with the result of eliviating the blockage of my bile duct. It would take approximately two weeks for my skin to completely stop itching. Now, we wait for the test results on the tumor and I continue to taking the oral medicine called Cholestyramine to reduce the itching for the next two weeks.
