Minor Survival

I’ve committed to myself, as of today, to spend 5-10 minutes with The Daily Post Daily Prompt, well, daily.

Today’s one word prompt is survival, a word that–in the context of this week– veers dangerously far from mommy-blogging territory.

Tuesday, I had a minor surgical procedure done. I was nervous about it, as one sometimes is for such things. Deep down, though, I was sure I’d bounce back quickly, go back to work that afternoon, and maybe have a funny anecdote or two to tell about it. My arrival at the hospital that morning certainly encouraged that idea– I had a wisecracking nurse, I joshed the anesthesiologist about my upcoming “nap” which I felt was well deserved, and the patient across the hall from me was doing astrological readings for every member of his health care team.

The nurse anesthetist dropped some kind of antianxiety/woooooooooo med in my IV and my bed was off to the OR. I expected to wake up, newly dysplasia-free.

Instead, I awoke in chaos, and parts of my body that had been previously traumatized were alive with pain. I was trying to grab the rope of consciousness, but I couldn’t, and the nightmares that have been torturing my sleep for the past few months were ever present.

The surgery went okay. One minor mistake/complication. My throat is raw and sore from the breathing tube they inserted, and I didn’t remember my discharge instructions. I’ve been physically sick from the anesthesia since Tuesday, and my brain is scrambled. The pain has lessened, but I wasn’t prepared for how intense it would be immediately following– it brought me to my knees on Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, unable to sleep.

But here I am. Dressed. Washed. Medicated. Fed. Coffee’d. I’ve snuggled my girls, rescheduled a doctor’s appointment, watered the plants, and I’m off to work.

I stumble, I misjudge, I survive–through no great momentum of my own.





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