The night before

One of my friends wrote a post about a conversation he had with someone the night before that person was to have a tumor removed. It started me thinking about the night before the four surgeries I have had. I find it odd that none of them involved a lot of fear.

My first surgery happened in 1942 or so and I was five or six. After all these years I clearly remember the night before my mastoid surgery. I was treated like a special person by my parents. My father allowed me to choose what I wanted for dinner and I chose fried smelt. It was a treat I loved. After dinner I was taken to the hospital to check in. I remember standing at the nurses station while my mother filled out the admitting papers. I also remember a nurse who didn't think I was going to survive surgery. Years later my mother confirmed that was true. I don't remember being afraid, just curious about what was going to happen. BTW, I survived!

My next surgery took place in 1989 and was a bit more traumatic. This time it was for endometrial cancer. By this time I was the mother of a ten year old daughter and her two older brothers, who were both in the military at the time. Early the day before I was scheduled for surgery I was admitted to the oncology floor of the hospital. I remember saying I had only had toast for breakfast and I was hungry. I wasn't allowed to eat anything, while my husband and daughter left to have lunch. I don't remember being nervous or fearful. I just wanted to get the surgery over with so I could get on with my life.

My next surgery happened in 2011 at our local hospital. I had been in pain for some time and I finally decided to get dressed and drive the short distance to the emergency room to see what was causing the pain. I remember being chewed out by the doctor in charge because I had waited so long and also because I had driven to the hospital by myself. At the time nobody was living with me except my two cats and they didn't drive. I needed someone to know where I was so I called a friend who came to check things out. While in the emergency room a male surgeon that I had known for years came into the room and said, "Barbara, what are you doing here?" I answered, "I am not sure." I was then informed he would be tending to my blocked bowel in about two hours. I still do not remember being fearful. If I had known I would be kept a prisoner in the hospital for two weeks I may have been!

My last surgery happened in 2015 and it was an elective hip surgery. I remember having to get out of bed in what I considered to be the middle of the night and take a shower with antibiotic soap- yuk! After getting dressed my friend drove me to Albuquerque to prepare for the surgery. I feel fortunate that my surgeon is considered one of the best in the four corners area. I remember him stopping by to check on me and writing his initials on my right hip. As he left he said, "I'll see you in there." Again, I do not remember any fear on my part.

My conclusion is I must have a built in measure of trust in the powers that be because it is 2020 and I am still here, attempting to accept what is in store for me.