Tantrum.

I was kicking and screaming. “No, I don’t want to go.” Tears were streaming down my face and the fear was heavy on my body.

This was me as I was being rolled off into the operating room.

It was only on the inside. Living in the inside of me was a terrified little girl, around the age of eight, who desperately did not want surgery again.

The adult me, on the outside, kept trying to work on my breathing; my homework from my therapist. Over and over I told myself everything was going to go smoothly and this would be worth it in the end.

Honestly, I did not want surgery. I’m tired of it all. The trial and error and the list of potential negatives weigh too heavy on me now. Healing & recovery are HARD.

To think just a few years ago, I was someone who only ever could see the positives. Negatives did not exist in my mind.

The plus for this surgery was because they knew where the leads needed to be in my back because it was a revision, I would not have to be woken up in the middle of surgery like a year ago. That is a moment I relive easily. So, I tried to convince myself that this surgery would be easier.

Eventually, it was time for my deep breaths under the face mask as they told me to dream of someplace beautiful.

Again, like every dose of anesthesia since two years ago, I dream of life pain-free. That place is incredibly beautiful and my smile there is so full of life.

I remember laying there with voices talking around me but I could not move or open my eyes. Eventually, I realized I was in recovery. As I fought to open my eyes, I tried to ask the nurses around me if the doctor was able to “fix it” but I was not able to get anything to come out. My throat, oh how it HURT!

They hit me with more pain meds through my IV and a minute later were panicking to get oxygen in my nose because like always, the meds crashed the oxygen levels in my body.

A few minutes later, the representative from my stimulator company came in and I was able to get a few words out to her that if she was coming to see me, it was good news.

She played with the programming of my stimulator to get it fired up while I was asking for anti-nausea meds because I was sure I was about to paint the room. The thought of getting sick made the burning in my throat intensify and I wondered what in the world went on inside the OR today.

Oxygen, rounds of pain meds and anti-nausea meds, eventually I was being wheeled away to my next stop, the one where my husband would be. Oh how I could not wait to see his face.

We spent hours in that room, way more than normal. I could not breathe, it hurt and felt extremely difficult to do so. They had to call the doctor to get a special and super strong medicine for my nausea. As it hit my body from my IV, my nose burned something fierce. Within a few minutes, I had crashed and slept for a few hours.

I remember laying there, half in and half out at times, unable to talk because it hurt so much but still feeling somewhat torn. The revision meant more surgeries down the road. If it had come out, I may never have had to enter an OR again. That eight year old girl inside of me began to throw a temper tantrum again.

This is life with a chronic illness.

But, I forced myself to take a few deep breaths and remembered what I had told myself for months. IF the DRG was going to work for me, the doctor would be able to revise it so I had to believe this was the case. That this time, a great pain relief was coming my way. In time, I will be able to get back parts of my life that I have been missing. Better yet, I can create a new life, one encompassing all I have learned living life with CRPS.

I reminded myself that I cannot fear the future. I have to stay here in the present moment. The present is all I actually have, it is all that is happening.

Allowing myself to look back or to look forward at endless possibilities often sends me into a dark place that every time you visit, it gets harder and harder to walk back out of.

In that moment, I took a few more deep breaths, repeated “peaceful” with each one and fell back into a deep sleep.

Until Next Time~