It all happened so fast I forgot to think about it until it was already done. On the 8th I was sitting in a room with a Family Practice Doctor asking her to take a peek at my back because it was sore (again). The following week I was sitting in a room with a surgeon having her tell me that yes I had a lump in there and, sure, she could take it out and relieve some of the pain.
Within moments I had met with her nurse and scheduled the surgery then walked down the hall to the Family Practice Clinic and scheduled my Pre-Op appointment. The next thing I knew I was in my car calling The Hubs to make sure he could take the day off to drive me to and from the hospital. I am having surgery.
Why!? How did this happen so quickly? Shouldn’t I have done some thinking on this? Talked it over with my spouse and done a little research before I just jumped into the deep end and said “let’s do it!”?
It was all so smooth, the appointment, the exam, the scheduling process. It was all over in literally 25 minutes. And here I sit on a Sunday morning almost in shock with the realization that I am jumping into this mess again. Twenty-four hours from now I will have already woken from anesthesia and will be sitting in a recovery bed waiting to be released to heal at home.
To date, I’ve had 9 medical/surgical procedures done since 2010 and each of them is like a black smudge on the timeline of my life. I picture weeks on calendars crossed off with pink Sharpie or the days taken up by the word “recovery”. Each procedure is like a big fat pause button on my life and as a result, my family’s life as well. It’s obnoxious.
All the things I want to do, all of my plans come to a screeching halt while I do nothing but sit with ice packs and read magazines and wait for my body to heal itself. All the time hoping with every passing day that my choice to invade my body, to remove something from it will result in a better life. An easier life. Life with less pain.
I have always said that if a treatment option came available to me with sound evidence that it would bring relief and improve my quality of life that I would do it. So long as the benefits outweigh the risks I am in. This option is no different.
I keep reminding myself that this is a good decision. That it won’t be as bad as the last surgeries because we aren’t removing organs and doing internal face lifts of my ligaments. It’s a small incision, in a small location and only 30 minutes under sedation. It’s 10 days tops of pain meds and rest and then I will be back on my feet to enjoy the summer that is coming. Sans this pain.
I keep telling myself this. I am firm in my belief that this is the best choice. The risks are low, the potential benefits high. It comes at a good time when the family is in a lull of activity and it won’t impact my very favorite time of year. And yet, it is eating me.
Here. We. Go. Again.