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In February of 1987 I was 34 years old and had a two month old baby at home. As a new Mom I was sleep deprived and didn’t have a clue what to do with a newborn. Luckily my Mom lived nearby and there were several good girlfriends that lived close that helped me out. For several days I had been experiencing dull pain in my lower abdomen, which of course I ignored. I hadn’t had a real period since I had the baby, so I assumed the ache was my body getting ready for a new cycle. I woke up one morning around four o’clock with severe pain that would come and go, just like labor pains. Of course I didn’t wake up the Joe-Man for a few hours, hoping that the pain would just stop. He woke up to an hysterical wife, a screaming baby, and the biggest ice storm in years. The usual fifteen minute drive to the hospital took over an hour, we watched cars sliding off the roads into ditches as we made our way. After lots of blood work and peeing in a cup, I was finally diagnosed with a twisted ovarian cyst. I needed surgery right away, NOW, no kidding, no time to think about it….NOW.
Luckily, the rest of the day is a blur to me thanks to the wonderful drugs the nice nurses gave me. In my drugged state, I was sure I could do this, no problem, I was super-woman, I just had a baby, this won’t be bad at all. WHOA….I was completely unprepared for the pain when I woke up.
They kept me in the hospital for nine days. Every time I woke up, Joe was in the chair right next to my bad. I knew another day had passed because he had on a different shirt from the last time I opened my eyes.
When I finally got home my little baby looked completely different. Nine days away from him and I was sure he wouldn’t know me.
This was my first surgery and the beginning of my ups and downs with my health. Soon, the hospital and the operating room became a familiar place for me. I could think of a million other places I would rather frequent.
Coming soon: Next chapter – Second Surgery
That sounds like a truly harrowing experience.
Well written. I can not begin to imagine . . .
Thanks Judy, that means a lot coming from you.
Oh, Mo! That must have been so hard! I spent eight days in the hospital when my daughter was 2.5, and remember how awful it was to come home and everything was different, especially her! Clearly, you got through it all, but it can’t have been easy.
Two sick mommas! I have had so many health problems over the years, like you, but being away from that baby was the worst experience. We both survived it….he doesn’t even remember!
I agree, hospitals and operating rooms are not the places anyone would want to become familiar with — hopefully, the doctors and nurses don’t feel the same way.
Sounds like an awful way to start being a new mom! The wondering if he would recognize you must have been very scary!
And I just realized you were posting from the ER! Fingers crossed for that visit to be short, and the proper “stuff” done quickly! Wishing you good luck and gentle (((((hugs))))).
Phy!!! NO, I WASN”T IN THE ER WHEN I WROTE THIS! I know my writing can be very confusing and now I have even confused you…I’m sorry. I am home and safe and sound for now. Thank you my Friend.
It didn’t faze him in the least…..as I said above, he doesn’t even remember…the brat!