As they wheeled me from the room around noon yesterday, I had no doubt that my Dad was with me. I imagined him hovering over my left shoulder with his hand on my forehead.
I was chanting the Gaytri Mantra with my eyes closed the entire time, unless I was asked something or when I had to shift from the bed to the one in the operating room.
Many people did their best to make me smile, knowing it was my birthday. The kind eyes, or a gentle stroke on my cheek - all from strangers - helped me feel less afraid.
Post-surgery: when I came around and they told me I could see my hubby in an hour, I asked if they could put me back to sleep until then. I don’t even know what I was saying. 😅
When I saw the familiar face of the nurse who’d come to collect me, I was tearful. “Maria! I’m so happy to see you!”
Only back at the room, I realized that it was after 6pm. Apparently, there was an emergency op before mine. The birthday flowers and cake in my room warmed my heart, but I had no appetite. All I wanted was water and something to soothe my dry lips.
I now have a heavy boot on my left foot. The nurse helped me with a drip for pain relief. When I needed the bathroom, I quickly learned that getting up from the bed was different to the other times with the mental entrapment. I’m slower and weaker, but that’s okay.
I’ve had to let go of many inhibitions this week. I’ve gone to the loo in front of people, needed help changing my underwear…and more.
This boot is a new sensation. It’s heavy and uncomfortable and I was unable to sleep last night.
I am in awe of the level of trust we put into medical staff when we’re this vulnerable. From administering medication to being in surgery under anesthetic. Not forgetting the trust I have in my own body to heal - with love and patience.
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