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