Grit with Glitter

Yesterday, just a few hours before my life-altering surgery to get a permanent ostomy, I was anxious but ready. I had been doing the mental and emotional work in therapy, I had physically prepared which involved not eating for more than 24 hours, taking mega-doses of antibiotics that made me extremely nauseous, and taking multiple showers in which I spent excessive amounts of time scrubbing my abdomen with a special anti-microbial wash.

My mom was in town to take care of my kids, I had spent a lot of time preparing my girls, and most of all I had done the work to get my mindset centered that this would be the start of the new chapter of my life I wrote about just a few days ago.

Then just a bit before I was to for the hospital, I got the call that due to my surgeon having a family emergency, my surgery would have to be postponed. They were working to find another time and would get back to me.

I was devestated. I felt like the one bit of control I had over this situation was wrenched away.

I had spent months planning, getting care set up for me and my kids for the first six weeks, and getting myself to a place where I was anxious and not looking forward to the pain, but primarily hopeful. And most of all, excited that I was in my very last hours of dealing with the pain from my fistulas that had been ruling my life for almost 2 years. The Fellow who called me was very kind and understanding of my frustration and disappointment and promised they would get back to me with a new date as soon as possible.

I collapsed in a crying heap and took to my bed, literally pulling the covers over my head as if I could shut out the world. It was just too much- all the nerves and anticipation and preparation to lead to such a huge disappointment.

A few hours later I got a call that they would be able to reschedule me for next Tuesday but that the robotic surgery would not be available and my surgeon would be doing it laparoscopically. And while that typically would not even be something that I understood, I had a specific conversation with my doctor about his preference for the robotic surgery in cases like mine.

I took the appointment so that I wouldn’t loose it, but my anxiety rose- did this mean that there was a higher chance my outcome would not be sucessfull? Would I be better off waiting the months it would take to get me back on the calendar for the robotic surgery?

The beautiful thing about the Mayo Clinic is they have a patient portal where you can message any doctor and someone from their team typically gets back to you very quickly.

I wrote a long note saying that I trust my doctor but that based on our conversations I was nervous to proceed with essentially a different surgery than what we had planned, asking if someone on the team could confirm with him that he was confident my surgery would be successful without the robot.

To my great surprise it was my surgeon himself who called me back. Both because of the way in which it was cancelled mid-day, and honestly from how he sounded, I could tell that this was in fact a family emergency and not some cancellation for connivence. But he personally called because he could tell I was worried. He explained that his preference is robotic, but it primarily affects outcomes with patients who are old, and particularly those who are overweight. He assured me that since I was young and thin (which of course made me like him even more) he was absolutely confident in doing my procedure laparoscopically, and that the outcome and the recovery process should not be any different. I sincerely thanked him and sent my best wishes to him and his family.

And I was still dissapointed, and bummed out, and annoyed that I would have to go through the entire prep process again, and that it meant my mom would be around for less of my recovery than planned. But I was also grateful.

Never have I had a surgeon who cared enough about me as a person that he would take tiime from whatever he was going through to reach out to comfort me. Maybe that is because he too has an ostomy and can understand what a difficult and nerve-wracking process this is. Maybe it is just because he is a really good person.

But the giant blessing in this tangled mess of feelings is that I am more certain than ever that I was put in this place for a reason. That the Mayo Clinic is a different type of medical care than I have ever experienced, that my surgeon is the exact right person to be treating me, and that my learned and practiced resilience will get me through the next few days and allow me to prepare again on Monday and do this thing on Tuesday.

So this weekend is a holding pattern, but I still have faith, and the skills to get through it, and an amazing community that has showered me with support. And yes, this sucks, but it sure as shit isn’t going to be the thing that crushes my relentless optimism or dulls my sparkle!