It’s been two months since my extraction from the molar pregnancy and the death of my grandfather. Two very fast months. Two months since my life would change forever. I think I might actually be able to write about it now. I am writing for my own healing, some of it is a little raw and real.
That fateful Monday morning I woke up very early to drive to the hospital, surprisingly I wasn’t very nervous. I was ready for this to be over with, this mass to be gone, and to feel normal again. I had grieved that there was no baby, just a mass, no baby, just a mass….. I wanted this over.
As I was being admitted, blood drawn, IV in place, I laid in the bed they gave me some meds. The Anesthesiologist told me I would feel like I’d had about 5 beers, loved that guy. They rolled me into the operating room and next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery area. It was done, that easy, I felt groggy but ok.
I had to wait at the hospital for a few hours until I was released to go home, DT drops me off and leaves to go get my pain meds from the pharmacy. Two hours later I am in pain and DT is no where to be found, I am calling him and he finally brings me my pain medicine, but by this point they had completely worn off and I was not feeling good at all. Needless to say he will never live this down, ha ha.
As I am sleeping on and off throughout the day, just resting in my drug induced state. DT calls and tells me not to answer the phone, what, who says that? He was gone again at that time, letting me rest, then he rushes home and tells me Pop-po had just had cardiac arrest and died…….
My first reaction was to be so mad, I don’t know if it was the meds that were causing this but words were spewing from my mouth, I was pissed, who did this, who let this happen, why, why, why? Why God, why?
Not Pop-po, he was doing great, healing, healthy, his heart was fine, he had several heart tests and everything checked out fine. I was mad at the doctors, at the nurses and everyone treating him. They dropped the ball, they let him down.
I know it wasn’t rational, but it was real.
Over the next two days I couldn’t cry, I blame the medicines for keeping it bottled up.
As soon as I stopped my pain meds, I felt better and better. Like me again, physically, well except for the 2 fresh holes in my heart.
I could eat again, I wasn’t nauseous and anxious. I could tell my numbers (HCG levels) were dropping daily and I felt like I could do this. I could move on, my body would be fine.
to be continued..