divinewrites

July 4th, 2023- while the rest of the United States is celebrating freedom- albeit in the rain where I lived, I was well aware that at around 10-10:30 that night I would turn into the proverbial medical Gremlin with an anticipated surgery the next morning. Check in sheduled for 6 am, which meant waking up at 5:15 am-no coffee- no scone (as though I breakfast on scones in the first place)-nothing in my stomach-so much in my head. No make up (and I rarely leave the house without trying to look somewhat human), no reason to do my hair, all my jewerly placed in the heart-shaped bronze colored, wire, trinket container–There is a necklace that I never take off- the main pendant is a trillion shaped, celtic, trinity knot

that I pair with a tiny round diamond encased in the letter X, which signifies the birth of my first son, whose name begins with X. The main pendant was given to me by my then boyfriend ( now my fiance’) and I later received the matching earrings (both as gifts for a birthday and Christmas) I rarely take either of them off for any reason…..But on the evening of July 4th, they all lay in the botton of the jewelry box that my youngest son gave me- even that has significance- He won that in a White Elephant game at his great grandma’s house last Christmas, and although he knows my distaste of all things heart related- he kept that to give to me for my gift. He knew this particular piece would have special significance…..It came from my ex in-laws family Christmas gathering and from the home of a woman who used to be the only person I had that was closest to a grandmother- she was kind to me, accepted me, for the most part, at face value, laughed with and seemed to know me- I had never grown up with a grandmother- she was near and dear to me- and in the split I lost access to her, her kindness, and a relationship with her. ( you lose so much that people never tell you, the trade off can be positive, but the fall-out from losing some really important connections stinks.) She, like many within that family, want nothing to do with me- I think believing that I ruined their relative’s life- sullied a reputation, & that I was nothing to care about in the first place. That hurts, but I cannot control their actions or thoughts, (believe me, I have tried, in so many instances, to do just that.) and what they think of me is their narrative-not mine to own (and that is hefty stuff to acknowledge too!)

Waking the next morning at, yes, the butt crack of dawn, is/was not easy. For those that know me, I am NOT a morning person-I do not (and refuse to) pop out of bed, all wide awake and bushy tailed, ready to dance my way through my morning Zoomba class (as if), & have 5 hours of work in before a morning coffee break. I am quiet, slow moving, somewhat sullen ( ok, the sulky part of sullen works- not the ill tempered or depressed)- I fully embrace the beauty of an early morning sunrise-I just don’t happen to want to partake in lots of them. (Now, if I was in the mountains or the oceanside-that may be a different story) I was quiet-my to-be fiance’ woke me as I slept fitfully on the livingroom couch- (lest anyone assume anything different-I have my own, solo space in which to sleep-as does he) I could hear nothing from the boys’ room upstairs, so I assumed they were safely ensconced in la la land!

Arriving at the surgical towers, I glanced behind me to discover one of my closest and best friends walking to catch up with us- WHAT!?!?!? It is the middle of summer, way too early in the morning, and did I mention, she is a college prof–they get a little bit of time off (for good behavior) in the summer. WHO goes out of their way to appear & sit for hours during a surgical procedure–? A sister from another mister does that-one who loves unconditionally.

Pre-op, consults complete, consents signed, gowned, non-slippy sock adorned, I sit ready for another step in the healing journey. This time- after almost 2 years of consults, tests, injections, X-rays, MRI’s, I entrust my back and cervical spinal column to one of the best neurosurgeons in the region. I have to trust his expertise- his wisdom, his staff- I have to trust in the process & relinquish control- (for any that know me- that is something I do not do well) I have to have faith that all will be ok- and I have to embrace one of the hardest concepts to rise to the surface in this whole process- I have to embrace another step in the healing process.

Healing- that is quite the word. Of all the things I learned this past summer- this continues to stick with me- People’s actions- their words, and even inactions have far reaching implications. What we do (or don’t do- ) what we say (or neglect to say) matters- & the effect is huge.

So, here I am, almost 49 ( at the time of surgery), confronted with the knowledge that people’s actions from decades before was directly affecting & partially responsible for the present situation- that at this juncture I am literally, financially, emotionally, and physically paying for the actions of others (multiple others). Healing those actions is not an easy task- there can be surgical interventions, but it is likely that I will end up with more surgeries, & the fact that my spinal column & vertebrae is close to an elderly person’s is hard to swallow.

Healing- what does that entail? I will tell you- it’s uber hard work. The Drs., surgeons, nurses, techs can mitigate symptoms, but the real work is up to the body, mind, and spirit of the one who is under the knife & anesthesia- The real work is heavy lifting-it feels lonely, daunting, isolating, and yet- there is hope within it.

That pre-op room was full of it-hope. The room was full of anticipation-history-connection, and yes, love. Of all the tangibles in that room, love was the most prevalent. Accepting that is not always an easy task- You see, a lack of attention, a lack of concern & others missing things that put me in this position & while I could rest on trying to pin blame in multiple places-where will that get me? What good will trying to figure out the when, how, who, & to what extent the damage occurred? The truth is, I will never truly know. The situation is due to a myriad of issues- a perfect storm of situations collected over decades-and I am partially to blame

It is hard to type that- hard to admit that I have to own my part in all this. I missed warning signs- ok, I didn’t miss them- I recognized them & refused to do anything. I lived in pain- in misery-in a place I thought I deserved. I believed that it was my job to endure-to wrestle in silence-the punish myself, to lay out the martyr mat & walk it every day. I knew stuff was wrong-I knew that the hurt was excrutiating, knew (in my head) that I didn’t have to live that way, & maybe the avoidance of claiming that I could pursue doing something about it was my way of dealing. But, the body, like the mind, keeps the score. The body, at some point, will give in to the strain, break under the pressure-eventually, if it’s not attended to, it’ll simply shut down. Maybe, in some way, I was ok living the way I was, but there was something that was not content. Sitting in that pre-op room was/is step one to healing. I knew, my mind knew it, my spirit knew it, my body knew it! (that’s a lot of knowing its)

As they came to wheel me down to the operating room, I knew one thing for certain-the road to healing was/is right before me- the decision now was/is whether or not I can lean into what it means. My counselor often busts me by saying that I like to walk into the mukkity, paint it with pretty words, avoid moving through it, paint it with more pretty words, and then jump to a ribbon wrapped ending. The fact is, there is no pretty way around healing-not if I’m doing it the right way. Just as getting to the root of the problem is not easy & requires mulitple cuts & scars from the Drs., walking through it as the person, that’s another journey…….More to come.