My third robotic-assisted laparoscopic surgery is now seven days away. As I lay awake in bed last night, my mind wandered to the process: pre-op/intake, placement of the IV, a conversation with my surgeon, trying to wear a brave face as my Mom and husband do the same, the ride down the hallway with the overhead lights (just like in the movies), the surgery room doors opening, and being greeted by staff as they make last-minute preparations for the procedure. Then the moment of being placed on the operating table, getting strapped in, and the anesthesiologist coming to send me off to sleep.
It’s not easy. It’s not a grand adventure. But, partially it IS an adventure: the hope of relief, of a returning quality of life, a possibility of normalcy. But, let’s be honest…it’s terrifying, it’s scary, and it’s going to hurt when you wake up…and the recovery takes weeks just to function; months to feel normal. And for some women: they never get that sense of normalcy.
So, last night as these thoughts tumbled through my brain, I reached my hand out to my husband and laid it on his hip. Before I knew what I was saying, the words “I’m nervous,” gently babbled out of my mouth.
He reached down and stroked my hand with his, then he pulled my hand up to his heart and held it there. I closed my eyes and silently let the tears flow. And he just held my hand firmly against his beating heart. Until I fell asleep.
I love him. So very, very much.
I often get asked, “How does your husband deal with your illness?”
This. This is how.
I don’t know where I would be in this Journey without him.