The month of February brings up a lot of memories. This year around the anniversary of the big surgery, I felt a shift in my energy. I was tired, numb, and anxious all at the same time and I didn’t realize why until my mom brought up that it’s been two years. Although February was particularly draining, looking back on the events from this time two years ago reminds me to be grateful.
The days leading up to the big surgery on February 14th, 2019 were filled with family and friends from out of town, food, IVIG, PT, medical jargon I was still trying to grasp, and anticipation. I wasn’t tolerating the IVIG well and PT was crucial before surgery, since I would be bed ridden afterwards. The goal was to keep me moving and gain as much muscle as possible so when it was time for me to get out of bed again, I wouldn’t be as weak as I was in the previous months.
Gearing up for surgery was extremely emotional because I knew I was about to leave the MPCU. Saying goodbye to all the nurses was really hard. I had grown to love and trust them over the two and a half months I spent in the unit. They assured me they would visit me in the SICU and then ISCU (the step-down unit from the surgical ICU where I would go once I was stable enough).
My sister flew in from New York and spent the night with me on February 13th. I didn’t want the night to end because I was so nervous for surgery. I had gone to the OR 27 times before this and the fear stopped probably by the 7th or 8th time going under. I basically told myself there was nothing I could do and the only thing I really feared about going under was how nauseous I was going to be when I woke up, but this time was different. I knew everything was about to change. Meg and I hung out with Destiny and DeLois (my night NA’s), probably watched something on Netflix, and eventually fell asleep.
When I woke up for surgery around 5:30 the next morning, I realized my wound vac stopped working in the middle of the night. I woke up in a puddle of fluid that was leaking from the vac and immediately panicked. Destiny cleaned me up and kept telling me it would be okay, but I was convinced they wouldn’t be able to operate for some reason.
We received the announcement that transport was on their way to take me to the OR. There was anxiety whenever transport came because I always wanted to make sure I was prepared. I normally would brush my teeth and use the bathroom, but this time was different. I knew I wouldn’t be awake for several days and I also knew I wouldn’t be coming back to this room or wing. It was almost too much to handle, but I said my goodbyes, got on the stretcher and rolled down to the OR.
Dear Vasculitis 