The first time
The first time I said it, I wasn’t trying to be funny but it came out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.
I was back in my hospital bed after my first post-surgery “shower.” It sounds better than it actually was. I sat on the toilet while a nurse (god bless her) cleaned my body with soap & a washcloth and then hosed me down. The pain meds had worn off and I could feel each of the 50 staples that went in a line right down the middle of my stomach. I didn’t know a person could be that exhausted from having to sit up for 10 minutes and walk 10 steps back to bed. My parents had left to get lunch but probably needed to get out of the room after hearing me cry while I had my shower. My friend Cassie held my hand and patted my hair while the tears streamed down my face. I hated the feeling that I was crying over the pain, like I was losing some imaginary battle in my head, but I just couldn’t stop. I felt like I had just lost my grip and the flood gates had opened.
I was 2 days post-op and the news of my surgery was just starting to sink in. They had planned to remove part of my colon, my right ovary and a tiny piece of my liver. Well my friends, that wasn’t all that was taken. My left ovary was also removed as well as 21 lymph nodes (we’ll circle back to that later). My nurse had come in to help me get situated and check all the things that needed to be checked. She stood at the foot of my bed patiently listening as I talked about the pain and the surgery. I know I talk a lot. Like a lot a lot but I hadn’t really talked in depth to my nurses and doctors about ALL of my feelings. This time I just couldn’t stop. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion or what but I just blurted out how unfair it all was. I heard myself and apologized because I didn’t want to be a complainer or sound like a child who didn’t get an ice cream cone. But it was just so unfair. I was just so angry and sad and frustrated and the tears felt like it was releasing everything that had been pent up for the last 2 weeks.
This lovely saint of a nurse didn’t even bat an eye. Who knows how many times she’s seen or heard a story just like mine. She just stood there and calmly told me that I was right and it is unfair what happened to me. And then it happened. She said “I’m so sorry you are going through this” and before I knew it, I just looked at her with my puffy, red eyes and said “that’s ok, you didn’t give me cancer.” And just like that the mood had lifted on my side of the room. All three of us were laughing and for a couple minutes I forgot about the pain and the loss. I don’t know why I said it to her when I had so many people tell me they were sorry. We talked for a few more minutes and she made sure I had calmed down and she was ok to leave me for a few minutes while she went to get my meds.
I am generally a very positive person and I hate having people be upset or uncomfortable. I wanted everyone around me to be happy and relaxed during this whole thing. I realized then that I had something to respond to people that would make them feel at ease so they didn’t have to walk on eggshells around me. It’s a very corny line so it fits right in with my brand. I know it’s not my job to make other people comfortable but I had very little control over things at this time and I took ownership over whatever I could. This was it. If I could make my family and friends laugh with a cheese one-liner or a recap of my day that was what I was going to do.
That’s ok … you didn’t give me cancer. It would be super awkward if you did. I’m like 99.9% sure it wasn’t you so it’s all good. No hard feelings. But yes, I’m sorry too because it sucks so f’ing much.
I hope you cracked a little smile reading that because it would make me doing this totally worth it.