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The Magical Mystery Tour

4/22/2014

9 Comments

 
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This is the story of the day of my D&C surgery. It takes place on Valentines Day (for an added dash of romance to an already charmingly romantic situation). This story can only be told in a stream of consciousness, dream-like jumble because that is how it unfolded for me. 

The smell of antiseptic flooded my nostrils as I checked into the same day surgery suite. I was given a bag of hospital-issued clothes. There was a poster on the wall indicating the steps of how to strip off your outside self and morph into a pale blue and green-pajamaed zombie person. Step 1: Gown with opening in back,  Step 2 : Pajama pants with opening in front, Step 3 : Robe opening to front, and so on. I even followed the directions to put on the little rubber-bottomed socks. I usually know how to put on socks without direction, but today the Universe had tilted.

I sat in the waiting room with mom on one side of me and Chris on the other. No makeup. Glasses and no contacts. The pink IV cathedar in my hand was the most Valentines-y part of my day. I answered the nurse's questions with precision and as much charm as I could muster. I guess on some level I felt like if I couldn't carry a pregnancy to term properly the least I could do is be the perfect little patient. My surgery was postponed of course and my stomach started aching from nerves and from having to fast since the night before. An indiscriminate amount of time past under the fluorescent lights of the yellowed waiting room. 

Somehow I ended up in front of an elevator where I had to hug mom and Chris goodbye and proceed with nurse. I felt like I was shipping off on some bizarre space mission. I had to surrender my glasses. I asked if I could please wear them into the OR, but was told I couldn’t. My vision is terrible and walking though the hospital hallways toward the operating room without glasses added to the surreal nightmarish quality of the situation. I couldn't tell people’s facial expressions clearly so it gave the eerie sense that I was surround by indifferent specters. 

I entered the blurry operating room and was asked to sign a paper that I couldn't fully read. I was assured it was just more of the same. More of the same. Then I was left to stand in the middle of the OR as the four medical staff went about their tasks. The nurse prepped some instruments. The anesthesiologist took some notes and adjusted a vial of some sort. Various other amorphous shadows busied themselves as I stood there melting into invisibility. That was the first moment that I broke down. Big, hot tears streamed down my face as I tried to make sense of how I got here and how unfair it all was. I noticed the stirrups that my legs would soon be in and I was hit by a flash of recognition of how many people would shortly see me in an extremely compromising position. I forcibly pushed that out of my mind. I stood there feeling tiny and alone. 

The medical team eventually turned their attention back to me and helped me onto the operating table. I stared up at the suspended spaceship lights. My doctor walked into the room. The single best part of this experience has been this doctor. She is absolutely a treasure and I believe the Universe sent her to me as a much-appreciated break from a pretty rough year. She stood next to me and touched my elbow telling me she would take good care of me. Tears flowed freely into my ears. I have seen a thousand pediatric inductions while working as a Child Life therapist at the hospital, but never saw the surgeon be the one to comfort the patient in quite this way. I remember saying “this is just so sad” and she said she knew it was.

The anesthesiologist was then efficiently sticking leeds on my chest and saying, “I know, I know but you’re young, you have that gift, a lot of people don’t”. I remember thinking “that might not even matter”, but in the moment I was willing to grasp onto any even half-hearted effort to comfort me. Next, and I honestly could not make this stuff up, Magical Mystery Tour started playing on the tinny speaker they had in the corner. “The Magical Mystery Tour is coming to take you away” played as they pushed my meds and take me away it did into an ever-so-welcome narcotic-induced sleep. 

I woke from what felt like the most sound, comfortable sleep of my life. My eyes glazed in soft focus in the general direction of my doctor who stood at my side and said a single underwater sentence to me. In hindsight she must have said more, but I don’t remember. Nor do I remember how I got into a wheel chair and wheeled to recovery. Nor do I remember the time that passed while I was hooked up to fluids. In my next moment of awareness Chris and Mom were by my side.

I opened my bleary eyes and felt...empty. Empty in a way I hadn't entirely realized I was full. The connection I had experienced to a deep and miraculous physical understanding of motherhood had been severed. I was alone again in my body. Lonely in my body. 

They monitored me for a couple hours and then I was told I could return to my normal activities in a few days. What the heck were my “normal” activities? I couldn't recall. 

There was, of course, a certain feeling of relief that it was over. The burden of waiting for something tragic and painful to happen was lifted. There was a sense that all that was left to do was move forward. A sense that something beautiful might be around the corner; something I would cherish all the more because of this experience. But there was also an insidious darkness that began to descend as the effects of the drugs lifted. It filled the spaces that were empty and lured me into a blinding fog of fear when I least expected it. There were no roadmaps out of this murky landscape and no one who could assure me that I was not the only one who had ever been here--a lone explorer in unchartered territory. 

I hope if you’re reading this from within the fog (or know someone who is) that this story can serve as a humble sign post. Keep moving forward. The atmosphere shifts. 



9 Comments
Lauren
4/28/2014 01:02:40 am

Your blog is incredible. I had a D&C a week ago, second miscarriage, immediately after the first. Thank you for talking about it.

Reply
Becca, The Ever Forward Blog link
4/30/2014 05:12:55 am

Lauren-- Thank you so much. I'm so sorry to hear you've been down this road as well. It means a lot to me that you took the time to comment and share your experience. We'll get through this. All the best to you!

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Myra
4/30/2014 12:56:35 pm

I'm a day out from having my 1st D&C, but my fourth miscarriage. I don't even remember how I stumbled upon your blog, but I think the Higher power that I did.
Thank you Becca for sharing your story and experience. As I'm laying in bed crying, I also know there is someone out there who totally knows what this pain is about.
Much love and healing to you

Reply
Becca The Ever Forward Blog link
4/30/2014 11:41:43 pm

Hi Myra-- Thank you so much for reading and thank you for taking the time to reach out in the midst of this crazy time in your life. I'm so glad you stumbled upon my blog!! I'm really sorry about your losses and that you had to go through the d&c process. I completely know what you are feeling and I am glad we can be a comfort to each other by connecting. Love and healing to you as well!

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Gina
5/1/2014 12:28:33 am

I too just suffered a loss at 10 wks! It was a horribly long experience starting march 31st (2014) and ending up in the er on April 11th in labor for 8 hours ending up with a D&E . I feel like you reached into my heart and put everything into words. Thank you! I am trying to figure out how to follow you! I am not so tech savvy! lol <3 One Mommy of an Angel to another!

Reply
Becca, The Ever Forward Blog link
5/1/2014 04:43:18 am

Hi Gina, Thank you so much for reaching out and sharing your experience. I'm so sorry to hear about what you have been going through and I unfortunately totally get how you feel. You kind words mean so very much to me! Hang in there and keep reading...that way we'll journey through this together...

To follow me you could download a feed reader. A good one is feedly.com and then you use the little orange RSS button the right sidebar of my site to subscribe. Then you will be updated automatically whenever I post! I would love to have you as a subscriber! Thank you! I will for the most part be posting on Tuesdays just so you know! All the best to you!

Reply
Becca, The Ever Forward Blog link
5/1/2014 04:58:35 am

PS : I downloaded "RSS Notifier" from the Apple App store for free and that seems to work well too!

Gina
5/1/2014 01:54:33 am

I realized I had not listed my e-mail above! :/

Reply
Becca, The Ever Forward Blog link
5/1/2014 04:44:44 am

Thats ok :) i still got the message (see above!) Sending good vibes your way!

Reply



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    lover of life. celebrator of everything. drama therapist. wife. friend. picking up the pieces. finding creative ways to put them back together.

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