An automated call came through about an hour ago, with information on my arrival time, what to bring, and where to go tomorrow morning. An automated call. Seriously? I'm about to have my face and neck sliced open, my face peeled back to reveal most of my cheek, chin and neck, and they can't have an actual person call me to provide this information in a more comforting sort of way?
But since that's the way they handle things, I sat and listened to the several minutes of automated information. "Arrive at 8:45am, wear comfortable and loose clothing, pack an overnight bag, do not bring anything valuable, do not eat or drink after midnight", etc, etc. This reminds me - I do not have a bag packed. Packing an overnight bag makes me think of back when I was about to deliver a baby. However, I'm fairly certain it was easier to recover from delivering a 7 pound baby (with no drugs, mind you), than it will be to recover from removing a probably 1 oz tumor. Crazy.
I was curious what time the actual surgery would begin, so I had to hang up and call back to the main hospital. It's set for 10:15am, but of course, anything can happen to delay it. And the surgery will take 3-4 hours, with recovery another hour or more, so stay tuned for an update mid-late afternoon tomorrow.
Until then, I'll be up until 11:59pm stuffing my face! Not really. But doesn't that sound like fun?
As a side note - the new steroid medication (to help control the black-outs) I've been on for just one week, has caused me to gain five pounds already. I kid you not. Five freaking pounds in one week. So, perhaps this whole surgery couldn't have come at a better time... I'll be on a liquid diet for a few days, so maybe I can drop this extra baggage. Although, it's probably better I retain this water weight because I need to increase my blood volume. And today I completed my first workout in over two years without experiencing a black-out spell, so apparently this medicine (and the extra weight) is working. Yay me!
And another side note, I keep singing Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" out loud everywhere I go. People must think I'm crazy, but I've got to keep reminding myself "every little thing gonna be all right".
Showing posts with label pre-op. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pre-op. Show all posts
Monday, September 19, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
What scares me the most
Besides telling the kids (which is going to be Tim's job tomorrow night), what scares me the most is something I hadn't even thought about. For the past two years, I've put off thoughts of surgery because I was terrified of the scars on my face and neck. Terrified. Like as if I was a magazine model and my life and career depended on my good looks. But hello, it's me we're talking about. I've always got bruises and bumps all over my body, chew the hell out of my nails, and wear sweats like it's my uniform. I'm not sure why I worried about a 4-6 inch scar on my face.
So while I focused all my anxiety on this superficial scar, I never once thought about all the real risks involved. And no, I'm not talking death here. I'm talking the very real risks, the almost certain complications, and the "it happens to everyone, but it's not enough to bother them" things. At my pre-op appointment my surgeon told me that every single patient loses feeling in their ear and side of their neck. Every.Single.One. They experience "complete numbness" is what I was told, because there is one nerve that must be cut. Which completely freaks me out, because I can't stand when my foot falls asleep, so I can't imagine what this will feel like 24/7 on my head and neck. Some people say it feels like a lead weight hanging from your ear. Others say there is internal itching, but all the scratching in the world won't make it go away. And that's just what happens to everyone.
Many people, if not all, experience facial paralysis, either temporary or permanent. But you do not know which you'll have until months or years later when either you regain movement, or you do not. This, my friends, is my biggest fear. What if the right side of my face no longer holds in place like my left? What if I can never blink my eye again? Wink at my husband? Chew my food? Smile? All these little movements are controlled by your facial nerve. The exact nerve that this damn tumor is wrapped around, as it's made the deep lobe of my parotid gland its home.
The surgeon takes every precaution to identify and preserve each of the nerves, however that does not guarantee that they won't be damaged as he cuts away the tumor. And even if a nerve gets gently moved or clipped, it may lose its ability to function for months or years. Or worse, permanently.
And yes, I'm a total pessimist, so I fear the worst. But that just means I'll be pleasantly surprised to come out grinning from ear to ear when I'm released from the hospital Wednesday, right? In all seriousness, I'm scared shitless. I'm scared that I'll look like a freak to my children; that I won't be attractive to my husband; that I'll be the one everyone looks at out of the corner of their eye and thinks "what happened to her?". I get that these fears are silly to most people, but in my mind they are so very real.
Oh, and one other crappy outcome that happens to everyone...... it will always sound like I'm listening through a tunnel in my right ear. Great, just great. But again, "this doesn't seem to bother the people who've been through this procedure", is what my doctor pointed out.
Like my dear friend Becky always says, "what's the point in worrying when you can't do anything about it" (or something like that). That's right, at this point it's out of my hands, and all we can do is pray. The surgery is scheduled for Tuesday (they will call with the time tomorrow night), and they tell me I will only spend one night in the hospital, and can come home Wednesday morning. Let's just pray I can be one positive example of the surgery, and can have a happy story to share of my recovery.
So while I focused all my anxiety on this superficial scar, I never once thought about all the real risks involved. And no, I'm not talking death here. I'm talking the very real risks, the almost certain complications, and the "it happens to everyone, but it's not enough to bother them" things. At my pre-op appointment my surgeon told me that every single patient loses feeling in their ear and side of their neck. Every.Single.One. They experience "complete numbness" is what I was told, because there is one nerve that must be cut. Which completely freaks me out, because I can't stand when my foot falls asleep, so I can't imagine what this will feel like 24/7 on my head and neck. Some people say it feels like a lead weight hanging from your ear. Others say there is internal itching, but all the scratching in the world won't make it go away. And that's just what happens to everyone.
Many people, if not all, experience facial paralysis, either temporary or permanent. But you do not know which you'll have until months or years later when either you regain movement, or you do not. This, my friends, is my biggest fear. What if the right side of my face no longer holds in place like my left? What if I can never blink my eye again? Wink at my husband? Chew my food? Smile? All these little movements are controlled by your facial nerve. The exact nerve that this damn tumor is wrapped around, as it's made the deep lobe of my parotid gland its home.
The surgeon takes every precaution to identify and preserve each of the nerves, however that does not guarantee that they won't be damaged as he cuts away the tumor. And even if a nerve gets gently moved or clipped, it may lose its ability to function for months or years. Or worse, permanently.
And yes, I'm a total pessimist, so I fear the worst. But that just means I'll be pleasantly surprised to come out grinning from ear to ear when I'm released from the hospital Wednesday, right? In all seriousness, I'm scared shitless. I'm scared that I'll look like a freak to my children; that I won't be attractive to my husband; that I'll be the one everyone looks at out of the corner of their eye and thinks "what happened to her?". I get that these fears are silly to most people, but in my mind they are so very real.
Oh, and one other crappy outcome that happens to everyone...... it will always sound like I'm listening through a tunnel in my right ear. Great, just great. But again, "this doesn't seem to bother the people who've been through this procedure", is what my doctor pointed out.
Like my dear friend Becky always says, "what's the point in worrying when you can't do anything about it" (or something like that). That's right, at this point it's out of my hands, and all we can do is pray. The surgery is scheduled for Tuesday (they will call with the time tomorrow night), and they tell me I will only spend one night in the hospital, and can come home Wednesday morning. Let's just pray I can be one positive example of the surgery, and can have a happy story to share of my recovery.
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