Friday, November14th, 2008

I am admitted to the hospital today, to be monitored and prepare for my surgery Monday. I have begged my mom to bargain with the doctors to allow me to come in Saturday, but they were firm. I wanted to have one more chance to do something fun before diving into this long and difficult process.
Lately, I have been lying awake at night wondering what will happen if I never come out from surgery. Morbid thoughts crowd into my mind when I am trying to sleep, even when I tell myself not to think of what may happen. I become more and more fearful. I want to be positive, and I trust God. But I need to ready my heart for the possibility of death. I consider that the worst that could happen is that I will go to heaven to be with Jesus, and suffer no more. The only thing that crushes me is the thought of leaving everyone I love behind. Ryan and I have had so little time together. I was never able to give him a child. I begin to worry about him, because while my parents and friends will miss me, everyone else has someone to cling to. But I am Ryan’s person and I would be gone.
I need to talk about what I am going through, to make it more normal, and to get me to a point to when I am able to accept that this is really happening. Some people are supportive; some do not want to hear it. But I do not want to leave things unsaid. I cry when I think that if I go now, I will not be present at my brothers’ weddings or get to meet their future children. I think about the fact that I would have been an awesome aunt to them.
I try to think of what I would want done with my treasured possessions, and I realize I don’t have too many things worth giving away. I decide that my mom gets my Pandora charms; Sam gets my Christmas decorations and Beth my collection of girly DVDs. Maybe my brothers or Sam and Beth should split my wedding rings. When I mention this to Ryan, he says he wants them. I tell him that his new wife won’t want my things around, and this becomes a running joke. My sister in law Angie says she wants to head up the committee to find Ryan a new wife, to make sure she is not the kind of girl I would have despised.
This weekend is uncomfortable and frustrating for me. I begin my stay in a regular hospital room, but I am quickly transferred when they close that floor of the hospital and move all the patients. I end up in a newly constructed part of the hospital, which will eventually be an intensive care unit. ICU rooms have a huge wall of windows to allow constant monitoring and a toilet right next to the bed instead of a regular bathroom. This one has been modified to allow some privacy; a curtain can be drawn over the windows and door. This poses a problem for me. I have a lot of visitors; many people want to see me before I go under the knife. First of all I am out of the room for MRIs that take hours and hours, and secondly the doctors want to clean out my system. When they open me up and move everything around they need an empty bowel to prevent infection. So, I am not allowed to eat. At all. And I am forced to drink laxatives.
Laxatives don’t allow you much warning before you need to use the bathroom. When you need to go, you need to go NOW. So during the middle of my visits I exclaim, ok, I need to use the toilet, and everyone scurries to the hallway. The curtain can only be closed from the inside, so I drag my IV pole to the wall of windows, try not to catch the curtain in the door then rush back to the toilet to do my business. When I am done I spray some air freshener and invite everyone back in, totally embarrassed.

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