The recovery room is the land of mixed emotions. So grateful to see her on the other side of another surgery, yet so terrifying to see her pulse ox dip as they race to get her on oxygen.
Gutting to watch her screaming in pain until finally a cocktail of pain meds knock her out completely.
She should rest. After squeezing in her GRE from 9:30-11:30 she fired off 6 applications to Physician Assistant programs before catching less than 2 hours sleep.
That sense of urgency is our 24/7.
We left home at 4:30- arrived by 5:30 and was in surgery by 7:30.
Three and a half hours later, we got a decent- yet not perfect report and I sit by her bedside… waiting.
Waiting to see if she’ll breathe without oxygen the way she needs to.
Waiting to see how they’ll manage her pain.
Waiting to map out the road to recovery.
Waiting.
He got the tumor. But with it went some healthy muscle too. He got the tumor, but the SOB had a vascular component too.
He got the tumor… but…
There’s always a but.
For now we sit. And wait. And HOPE for all the best answers to chronically complicated questions.
It’s an actual question people ask. And I guess it is a fair question for most people. But, we aren’t most people. We are 1 in 200,000 tumor growing Cowden’s Syndrome people.
The question makes everyone in the room uncomfortable because when they start to realize the over 20 surgeries for my girl alone will NEVER fit on the three lines they allow, they ask me to prioritize. But, I have. And the are all important. I even print them out so they don’t have to rewrite them.
It’s like the medication question. Yep. There are a bunch. Yep. They all have value. Yep. They all have side effects. Good for you that you have never even taken a Tylenol. God Bless you and your healthy pain free body. But be careful not to imply that it is even a choice not to control the unrelenting pain somehow. I mean, you want us to behave like decent humans right? Because you can’t have us pleasant and medication free, If you want to be sure maybe we can place a giant tumor on your sciatic nerve. Or let you contend with the after effects of a high flow AVM in your knee, and the shifted patella, or in my case a boatload of hemangiomas on your spleen, and bodies that are just off sides 24/7/365.
I wonder how people would react if I started asking the same question of them…. “What do you mean you haven’t had ANY surgeries?” People find our lives odd. They like to throw well intentioned platitudes. “Is she better now?” “Is it fixed?” “She’s so strong.”
Yep. We’re strong. The weight is heavy. Oppressive at times. The trauma is real and ever present. And to the well intentioned “You should see a therapist…” yep, we’ve got it thanks.
But, no. It’s not “fixed.” It’ll never be fixed because the broken PTEN gene proliferates every cell of our bodies. It has taken a toll on our bodies, and will continue to do so. Active surveillance for cancers and tumors that are flat out likely to grow and show up is just our reality.
It has taken a toll on our spirits. Differently, yet a significant toll on both of us. We are a lot. Chronic issues make even the most well intentioned people uncomfortable. Pain changes you. Trauma changes you.
This life can be so lonely. It is hard to relate to experiences and people when your reality makes most uncomfortable. The isolation becomes easier to manage than the abandonment.
We are a lot.
We are often defensive. Being left behind so often will do that. Being judged too early and too often will do that too.
I think today as I wait for a surgical update I am just tired.
We arrived at 5:30 at 7:30 they rolled her away from me.
Our hopes and dreams right now rest on the resection of her thigh muscle to remove a tumor situated somewhere between her femur and her sciatic nerve.
As I sit here with Ella her service dog, praying and waiting, I can’t help but choose hope.
This girl, well woman, is a force to be reckoned with. The number of appointments she has crammed into the last 3 week is ridiculous. She’s taking an EMT class 12 hours a week with her dearest friend, and took the GRE for the second time at 9:30 PM LAST NIGHT, then submitted 6 applications to physician assistant programs for next fall before closing her eyes for about 2 hours.
She is so determined to overcome all the chaos that has been her life and do BETTER for other that she inspires me.
Join me in HOPE and prayer for the successful removal of this tumor with complete and total nerve function in tact.
Because, What if it all works out?
#beaitngcowdens
A few photos from our pre-op selfie tradition this AM…
beatingcowdens 