A Preamble to the Glorious Unscrambling (Post #9)

What you are supposed to need after surgery, versus what I needed. 

This is not the long-awaited blog post describing my “Glorious Unfolding.” Circumstances yesterday made it very apparent that certain aspects still require ripening. So what is this? I'm not sure. I know that there are many iterations of this post on my laptop, most of which will never be published, but this week has been rather wild, and debriefing is taking longer than anticipated. So maybe we'll call this a preamble; an explanation of the description, perhaps? 😏

Let me take you back to the beginning… I mean, if you don’t have a life, feel free to read my past blog posts, but here is the Reader’s Digest version:

During a routine mammogram/breast ultrasound on May 13, 2022, an abnormality was noticed and Triple Positive Breast Cancer was diagnosed 5 days later. And no, Triple Positive does not mean “hip-hip-hooray!” It refers to the hormones involved and  means that my treatment will likely require surgery, chemo, and radiation. A rather unsightly and slow-healing hematoma, the result of the mammogram-guided biopsy, meant that my surgery had to be delayed as long as possible. In my case, that was until June 29, 2022, 4 weeks from our first visit with Dr. Olson, my surgeon. I was scheduled for early in the morning and promised that I would be home by noon. Well, that was the plan, anyway, and my “interesting outcome” is certainly not his fault! His manner engenders confidence and if he says something is going to happen, it will, or he will know why it hasn’t yet, meaning that it still will. 😁

The Comprehensive Breast Care Program is fantastic and the booklet (over 60 pages) of information they initially emailed out to me is excellent. It includes helpful topics such as “What to bring to the hospital when undergoing a lumpectomy.” (Hint: it’s a list of meds, in a Ziploc bag with the meds in their original containers, mints to “freshen your breath and help get systems moving again” and ear plugs.) Nowhere does it tell you what to expect when your recovery goes sideways.

During surgery, my body decided that lungs were meant to process fluid, rather than air and I crumped. No, we do not know why. 

Theory 1: I simply aspirated. (Unlikely)

Theory 2: I had an anaphylactic reaction to some meds, potentially antibiotics used routinely. (Also unlikely.)

Theory 3: Something weird involving the endothelium (?) that I never really did understand and have no hope of explaining without someone first explaining it to me using crayons. (Post ICU Brain Fog is real, folks!)

Theory 4: God wanted this blog to be a bit more dramatic. (My preferred theory.)

Thankfully, the surgery had already been completed, albeit at the Cross Cancer, which doesn't have an ICU. I recall telling someone (my surgeon?) that I was having trouble breathing, my vision was being overtaken with black spots and I needed help NOW. (And yes, I used my mom voice; I cringe now in memory!) I also remember that the EMTs standing by to rush me to ICU at the U of A Hospital were cute, as in, “Hey, he looks like my hubby!” You can’t tell me that God doesn’t have a sense of humor, ‘cause that’s the ONLY thing I could remember when I woke up!

I still don’t know how close I came to dying; it’s not a thought your brain actually wants to process; hearing terms such as ECMO and “losing her” is very surreal.  It only hit me today that I was very, very close to never being the annoying Mother-of-the-Bride, the grandma who tells her grandkids to behave or “You’ll get me in trouble with my kid!” (that line worked like a charm with my kids), or watching my hubby roll his eyes even as I make him laugh. (For the record, I am all for remarriage, I have only one stipulation - she must make him laugh.) My brain doesn’t want to process what would happen to my family if I wasn’t there to corral the forces and offer comic relief. The mama guilt, which is never logical, is going strong with this incident! ("I’m sorry I almost died and stressed you out, okay? I didn’t plan it. As a matter of fact, I had laid out my vitamins for that night before leaving for surgery!")

So how am I doing now? Look up Post ICU Syndrome. It's real. It's not necessarily fun, but God brought me this far and despite currently living in Covid Cottage (I'm the only one not testing positive for Covid as of 9:45 pm), I am content. Oh, I'm no tranquil sea of pleasant emotions, yeah no, there have been many Jacob moments where I have wrestled with my journey.* A dear friend shared a song with me before my surgery. At the time, I thought it was nice but it didn't touch my heart as it did my hubby's. Well, it has been on loop in my head and sometimes in the real world for the past 48 hours.

Day by day, I'm learning how to stay

In the middle of the storm

I'm learning where to lay my head

And step by step, I'm learning how to listen

In the middle of the noise

I will listen for Your still small voice

Breath by breath, I'm learning what You say

When You told me I could trust

Even when the storm is raging on

And song by song, I will sing of your great love

While You're singing it back to me

With the very voice that calmed the sea

So say peace be still

To every beat of my heart

So say peace be still

To every thought in my head

I know your voice, and I will listen and obey

Every time you call, in the night

So let the thunder roll

And I won't be afraid, 'cause You roll the thunder

And let the rain beat hard

Upon my roof, and I'll dance to it's rhythm

And let the mighty wind

Blow between the oak trees

As I let You steady me

'Cause You're right here in the whisper

You're right here in the whisper

You're right here in the whisper

Of my heart

When I heard that Covid had entered my haven, I may have temporarily lost my 💥. "Really, God? Now? When rising from a chair takes at least 3 attempts, (I told my dad I felt like a Ford...) when I'm losing the battle against body odor, and walking while carrying anything is highly dangerous to both property and limb? Now?" I had no idea He was interested in so much drama!! So is God punishing me? I know...it must be because I've been so pedantic about masking. 😜 (I know that I've ticked people off, due to a heightened sense of responsibility for my husband's fragile patients, given that I was working in his office. So is this whole situation incredibly ironic, you better believe it! Thankfully my sense of humor also survived. 😁) So...no. God did not send me home to Covid Cottage as punishment, of this, I am assured. How can I be so sure? Because God is the ultimate parent. He's not vindictive. The God who has come closer than I ever thought imaginable is just downright amazing and loves us more than we can ever imagine. (And no, we are not going to join hands and sing Kum-ba-ja now. 😁) So why now then? What are you, three? I don't know! And the best part is that I don't have to. I just have to keep doing my part and leave the details up to God. I am convinced that even this will somehow work for my good. (But man, I do have some questions! 😬 And that's okay!)

Well then, this post was certainly "not as advertised!" Sorry about that. I promise to give you the juicy details of my experience, including what it's like to see heaven "just around the corner."

This is the Biblical passage I referred to above. 

Genesis 32:24-28:

So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”

But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”

The man asked him, “What is your name?”

“Jacob,” he answered.

Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,[a] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”