Well, here we are, less than a month out.
I want to have some type of memorial blog pre-op, blended with a bit of positivity, before I officially go in. I'm struggling to speak too much on the matter otherwise; it's just all too scary.
Last Saturday, I was, finally able to go to a UGA football game for the first time since 2017. It was also the first time I have left my house to do anything fun in months. And my God; the pure planning and anxiety that goes into doing something as simple as going to a football game. I was a wreck all week thinking my pain level would wreck the day, especially considering Friday had me bound to a recliner where I couldn't move.
Nevertheless, the day arrived, I made it, backpack stocked with all the meds, and trudged my slow ass there. I will say it is the first football game I have ever experienced sober (didn't know there was another way to experience those, my college self would be shame), had a great time, and couldn't have been more grateful for one good day.
The next day, by some miracle of God, I was feeling good enough to go to a pumpkin patch with the whole family. Logan, Jamie, baby B, Becky & Wayne joined us for a day together as a family and I was so thankful to have another decent day. Seeing Jackson with Connor, with this grandparents, just absolutely melts my heart.
It's these wonderful moments and these good days that make me terrified for what's next. As you've known from my previous blogs are talking to me, I have to have this upcoming surgery in order to survive. However, I have a terrible feeling about it. I have never had such a gut, bad feeling about an operation or dreaded one so unbelievably bad. For a refresher on what he will officially be doing: removing my stomach and making a new stomach out of my esophagus, then reconstructing my small intestine. If the "new" stomach doesn't work (and forgive me if I'm an idiot, this one absolutely confused me) there is some type of feeding tube they create that feeds directly into your small intestine; if this doesn't work, option 3 is the GTUBE - I told him if option 3 happens, find out a way to kick my DNR into effect, because I will, under no circumstances, ever, EVER, have that painful GTUBE ever inserted into my body again. I call it quits, it's been a good run, I'm good.
It's all very much: don't have the op, you live, but here's this crazy surgery I know you need, and I'm just terrified. I'll be driving, or doing something totally unrelated to anything medical, and start thinking about it, and I start bawling. I've done everything I can to put it all out of my mind, but especially on my bad health days; there is no way to avoid it.
Recovery is always hardest for me. For some reason I always seem to have the most complications. Say I make it to the other side of the op - what happens after that? Colectomy - 1 month stay. Ileostomy - 3 month stay. This summer. Those are just a few examples. I tend to lose my mind after all of the anesthesia and drugs (as my family can attest); I know that person is waiting on the other side of the operation so I just want people to remember who I am. I don't know what I'll turn into.
There are days where I'm like; I'm good. It's been a good run. As crazy as things are now, I am blessed in the sense that I have lived a very good life. I had an amazing high school experience, college was a blast, I have been lucky enough to have a child when I never though I could. Maybe I used up all my lucky/fun cards between the ages of 16-24. If so, well - those were some damn good days. However, when I imagine Jackson growing older, and me not being there for that, I can't do it. I want to do what I can for him. Everything else can fade away, but that little boy is the one reason I just can't go yet.
I know I joke about death, but it's weird; you've got to have a very dark sense of humor as a person who is chronically ill and sarcasm has always been my middle name. I have to understand it is a reality, but with Jackson, I just don't want it to be a reality yet.
I do want to thank everyone who has been so supportive this year, starting with my doctors. My primary care doctor holds it all together and I am so grateful for him. My colorectal surgeon is Jesus reincarnated. I wish I could buy him a beach house. My urologist and their team are incredible. My friends - damn y'all. THANK YOU for EVERYTHING. For checking in, for not asking how I am and just letting me cuss and talk about anything, for visiting me at home, for taking me out for drinks when I can, for everything. My family - the whole clan knows how to rally together. I was so blessed to be born into a great family. I have always said whoever marries me and Logan would end up the luckiest guys in the world. Not because of us - because of our family. And everyone on Ben's side who has helped out as well - we could not have done it without you. I am so grateful for you. To people I haven't spoken with in years and have sent messages - I am a nostalgic person and revitalizing old friendships makes my heart happy. Thank you for your kindness.
So I'm going to do all I can to enjoy every good day until November 15. Call me if you want to get drinks and it is one of those. I'm putting it out of my mind, I'm praying for the best, and hoping, for once, this does change my life for the better. If not, you know what song to play.
Currently Listening to "heart" - flor
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