On this date, last year, I went along my day like any other. Went to a Weight Watchers meeting, got a pedicure, and picked up some (unhealthy) lunch before heading home (the irony of pairing the lunch with the Weight Watcher meeting right?) As the afternoon hit, I started to feel extreme pain in my stomach, which I assumed was just indigestion. As it worsened, I called the advice nurse and was advised to get to the emergency room as soon as possible.
A few things that made the scenario more stressful than it already was: 1. My husband was in Texas for fire training 2. No one was answering their phones, since I could not drive myself I needed someone, and 3. I am very anxious when it comes to hospital visits so whatever anxiety I was already feeling from being ill, all of this was just shooting it through the roof!
Thankfully, someone who I least expected, came to my rescue. It is here that I reminisce on that bad day and think maybe some good came out of it. At this point in time, my sister and I had not spoken in over a year and it was this emergency hospital drive that sorta of "squashed" some of the drama we were holding onto. For this, I am very thankful for.
Once I was set up in a bed in the emergency room, all appropriate phone calls were made by my mother as we waited to hear what was wrong, and to be honest, I was truly expecting to be told it was a bad case of heartburn and gas, given some meds, and be sent on my way. But that didn't happened. I remember the look my mother and I shared when the ER doctor said that the surgeon would be in in a minute to discuss the results of my tests. Surgeon?! Surgery?! I didn't sign up for any of that! However, I had little choice in the matter, and a few hours later I was getting prepped for my poor, little, gallbladder to be taken out. I just kept thinking, that once it was removed, this will be over....wrong!
The week following my surgery was hell! I cannot explain the pain I was in. I also could not take any of the pain pills that were prescribed because they made me too sick. I couldn't eat anything, I could barely move, and I truly felt the worse I have ever felt in my life to date. It wasn't until I had a strange discoloration around one of the incisions that brought me back to the doctors, a few days before my follow up appointment that, the doctor I saw ordered some blood work to be done, "to be safe", her in own words.
Well it was a good thing because wouldn't you know, I received a phone call on my way home from the blood work saying I needed to turn around immediately and get into the emergency room because my lipase, and white blood cell, levels were very high and obviously that meant something was wrong.
Come to find out I had pancreatitis the whole time, even prior to the gallbladder removal, and the next 4 days were spent in the hospital treating it and running tests to find out what caused all this in the first place.
I would like to rewind, just a little bit. I gave the day of my surgery credit for bringing my sister and I together, but I also need to note that my mom was the best caretaker I could have asked for during the first few days after surgery. Although having my husband home through all this would have been nice, having my mom be the main help was extremely comforting, My mom and I have a, different, relationship than most mothers and daughters, and I am usually not one, from as far back as I can remember, to solicit that I want someone to take care of me. But in those few days, I didn't need to ask, and she didn't need to be told. I will forever hold onto this memory.
It took a few weeks to truly start feeling "right" again. It was also in these few weeks that I came to see what friends and family were there for me, always checking in to see how I was, and asking if I needed anything. It was a nice eye opener to see who was just wishing me well because it was the polite, and standard thing to do, and who were really there to help. Although I am not harboring any anger to those that I thought would have been more present during this time. What good does that really do? However, it won't be something I forget.
So now, a whole 365 days later, I make a cup of Yogi tea that offers a message on its string that says, "Be proud of who you are". I felt that was a very fitting message to receive while writing this blog. Since last years events I am now sober, working on my mental clarity and happiness, and am still chugging along with eating healthy and getting this extra weight off. I still have work to do to become who I want to be but, I know I am proud of how far I have come. It took what happen last year to really open my eyes to how I was treating myself and how the body can only take so much self abuse. And in true "Tiffany" fashion, it was a lesson I needed to learn the hard way.
Until next time...
.JPG)
.JPG)
