I've dealt w/ a lot over the years, but even more so, the second half of this past year--mostly health problems w/ out medical, but then in October, things became worse, both physically and personally. My physical problems had gone on w/out medical treatment for years, even more so the past few months of last year, because of lack of insurance coverage, or so I thought. I learned after being in the hospital twice in a matter of two weeks, that the insurance I do have did cover what was needed, including the surgery that was much needed to solve the ongoing physical problem. Had I known that sooner, I would've definitely been to an OBGYN sooner!!
The second thing that made the second half of this past year difficult was my mother's death. She had been dealing w/ health problems for years, but as my father told someone the day of her viewing or funeral, my mom had been going downhill the past couple of years. My younger daughter and I went to visit my parents in May and to attend my older daughter's college graduation and saying good-bye, the last day of our visit, was more difficult than other visits over the years. My mom had gone downhill, physically, since our previous visit two years before. I was shocked when I saw her the day we arrived in May, but nothing compared to what I saw when I got to the hospital the morning of the day that we arrived up home in October.
Before we left after our weekend visit in May, I was crying and I told my mom that I was afraid she wouldn't be alive the next time we came here. She said that I had nothing to worry about because, 'I'm not going to die. I have too many quilts to make still'. Unfortunately, she didn't make any more quilts. She started them, but never finished them. My older sister was the only one of the five of us kids who never got a completed quilt from my mom.
In October my oldest brother called me to tell me that our mom had had a stroke, or so the Dr. thought, and that 'it didn't look good'. He said that I should consider going up there. In the past, whenever my mom was hospitalized for one reason or another...usually her heart, she always told me to stay here because my father and siblings were there and would keep me posted. The month before she died, she had been hospitalized for kidney failure and thought she was going to be on a dialysis machine, but added that I didn't need to go up then because, 'I'll be fine'. A week later she called me to say she was home and she sounded better than she did the last time we talked. The Sunday before she was hospitalized the last time, I called her to talk during my break, like I did often, and after a few minutes she began to sound like her words were beginning to slur. I told her she was hard to understand and that I'd hang up and call her later. I never got a chance to call later and unfortunately, that was the last time I had a conversation w/ her.
Seeing her laying in her hospital bed when we got up there that October morning, was very difficult....the most difficult thing I had ever had to deal w/ since my fathre's stroke when I was 15, almost 16 (just before my birthday, also in October). The afternoon of our first day up there the dr. gave us the bad news that he was only giving my mom 5 days 'max' to live because of her condition and that all we could do was make her as comfotable as possible and wait. We took turns holding her hand and/or talking to her by her bedside the next few days and altho my older sister was talking about the funeral or the photo board, I refused to discuss it because I was still holding out hopes that my mom would pull through and recover. I never expected her to die. I always thoght she would live forever. She passed away four days later, a week before my 53rd birthday. Seeing her in the funeral home was so difficult and even the gathering of friends and relatives that I hadn't seen in years didn't take away the pain of losing my mother who was also one of my closest friends...probably my best friend. Little did I know that I would miss her even more a couple of weeks later when I was rushed to the hospital and was scared to death.
My older daughter drove me back down here to NJ the day after the funeral and I spent the next week alone in my apt. because my younger daughter stayed up home the extra week to be w/ my father and to help him. I couldn't stay any longer because I had to return to work. I normally would call my mother on my birthday becuse I knew she would forget my birthday, but not because she didn't care...she was always bad about remembering birthdays after the five of us kids got older and moved away from home. I couldn't call her this past birthday and being that she had only died one week before, it was a rude awakening to what will be many more birthdays w/out phone conversations w/ my mom, not only on my birthday, but every day.
My physical problems grew worse as the days went on, making doing anything more difficult and, at times, confining me to home, close to the bathroom. I felt like I was inprisoned inside my own body. The day before Halloween, I was rushed the ER because things had gotten so bad that I almost passed out twice in a matter of a few minutes. I was admitted to the hospital for the weekend and released w/ intstructions to report to the OBGYN's office a few days later to learn if I had cancer or not. At the follow up appointment I learned that even though there were no signs of cancer, a total hysterectomy was ordered and by mid November, I had it done. I was in a lot of excruciating pain, but it wasn't long before I began to feel as though I had survived the worst thing I've ever experienced in my life, not even living w/ an abusive husband can compare to it and I began to feel as tho the surgery not only saved my life, but it also gave me a new lease on life and I felt like a special gift was handed to me that I would/will cherish for the rest of my life. I would've loved to have gone through it all w/ my mother only a phone call away, but instead, I only had my younger daughter down here to carry the burden of seeing me through it all, alone, just the 2 of us. She got frustrated @ times, but she was a great help to me and I was always thankful she was here. I've grown to appreciate her even more over these past couple of months than I have before.
As a result of the surgery, not only do I feel like celebrating each new day, but I don't let things get to me. I'm not saying that I'm always cheerful and never get upset or sad, but I don't let things bring me down to the point that I say, 'what's the use?' I'm thankful to be alive and I'm thankful that I was given the second chance on life. I'll be glad when I'm completely healed and am no longer in discomfort from the surgery, but until then, I'll continue to take it easy when my body tells me to and plan on what to do when I'm more able.
