Friday afternoon, I went to the hospital for a "procedure". No cutting. Nothing to really get scared about. Although, the hospital kept asking about a living will... I told them to DNR and Donate! Cause hey--why not? I can't imagine giving the financial burden of keeping me alive to my loved ones.
I stepped onto the elevator to ride up to Ambulatory Care. Everyone was very quiet and somber. So of course I made a joke. I got off at the top floor where a nice nurse showed me to the best room in the hospital.
It was a corner room. It overlooked the city. And the snow was gently falling. I undressed and crawled into my super adjustable hospital bed and enjoyed the amazing view.
I had to wait a while before the procedure. I had a good 3 hours in that room to just nod off, read and talk on the phone. I wasn't sick going in... but I was really tired. Apparently, when you have the medical problem I had, anemia can be a problem.
I wasn't scared. I just felt incredibly blessed. If I hadn't lost my job, I would never have gone in for a check-up. The very fact that I had the job with the health coverage for the short time that I had it was in and of itself a miracle. So I had the coverage and everything was going to be fine. The feeling of gratitude simply would not make room for any nerves. I felt incredibly cared for as I sat in my adjustable bed on the top floor, in the corner room.
One fear haunted me. What if this is a completely avoidable procedure? What if I didn't do enough homework? What if there are other avenues I should have explored? This was my first time ever getting anything done. I was afraid that I would end up paying money for something that was unnecessary because I didn't really have time to explore other options. My insurance was ending in a few weeks. But, I couldn't really do anything about that. What was done was done. I was going to relax and play with the adjustable bed.
When the time came for me to go down to the operating room, the transport nurse pushed me in my awesome bed down the hallway. I felt like I was in a parade. Of one. I resisted the urge to wave. This was difficult. I could not resist the urge to giggle as we zoomed down the hallway.
When I got to the operating room, I talked to the doctors and nurses. I remember feeling very uncomfortable. I tried to tell the nurse that I was not pleased with the feeling that had just come over me. They put the oxygen mask on me. I ripped it off to tell them that I couldn't breathe. The anesthesiologist was very nice and just said that everything would be fine. And then I was out.
The next thing I know, there were doctors and nurses around me saying that everything was fine.
My doctor was really excited. He said that while performing the procedure, he found lots of polyps and showed me pictures of two particularly big ones. I thought about the consequences of not getting the surgery. Polyps lead to infertility. For the first time, I just cried. I let myself feel the fear and I cried and cried over what I might have lost.
I let the tears kind of hang out for a bit, but I wasn't sad. Just one more thing to be grateful for. My mountain of gratitude is getting ridiculous.
This time, when the transport nurse wheeled me back through the halls, I waved. I waved like Texas Beauty Queen. And then I sang like Evita, both hands stretched out as I sailed by in my hospital gown, "My people!"