No  time to grab the camera.

No time to write it down.

Just time enough to breathe it in and linger…

Sara Groves, This Peace

A few weeks ago, I said I was going to take the {W}rite of Passage challenge.  I wrote one bad post that even I didn’t like, and I started writing another about lunch only to find that there was something bigger and more beautiful that wanted to come out of my heart and my mind.

But this week’s challenge, should I choose to accept it, is “The Job“.  So without further ado, Challenge #5 (with many, many ellipses…and parentheses).

We didn’t start out so well, you and I.  Well, I mean…the very first part wasn’t so bad, but then the pain and the screaming and surgery.  Yeah, that could have gone better.  Normal vaginal delivery with epidural.  Nothing fancy.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Except…well, first we found out that you only had three toes on one foot.  That was a bit of a shocker, I must admit.  But nothing we couldn’t handle.  When the nurses got you ready to leave the room, everyone followed you down to the nursery.  Everyone except Jesse.  (God bless Jesse.)  She stayed by my side because…well, because that’s what best friends do.

“Hey Jess?  I’m hurting.  Like really, really hurting.”

She set off to find a nurse, who tried to convince me that it was just the epidural wearing off.  (Let me go ahead and tell you one thing about me: I’m generally a very nice person.  But if I’m hurting?  Well…there’s no guarantee.)  I then convinced her to take a look, and lo-and-behold she did something I wish upon no one else.  She took a big, scary, deep breath followed quickly by “I’ll be right back”.

The next part’s a bit of a pain-and-drug-induced blur for me.  Doctor rushes in, takes a look, pushes lots of major drugs.  I get yelled at by a tiny Asian anesthesiologist because I’d had a sip of Diet Coke, which was apparently going to kill me.  They rush me to the OR, and I am literally writhing in pain as they try to get me sedated.

For me, in my memories…there is nothing again until morning.  Surgery complete, pain meds on board, and I am finally able to hold you, to be with you, to cradle you in my arms like I’ve always dreamed of doing.  Just me and you.  And as I sit and try to memorize the details of your face, your perfect tiny face, I realize that this is what I was created to do.  All that I am, all that I’ve come through, all that I’ve learned, every moment of my life…has lead me to you; to the most important (and hardest) job I’ll ever have: Mommy.

By Wednesday of this past week, both of the big kids were back in school.  I had great aspirations for Wednesday and Thursday.  I still have Christmas decorations out.  I have brand new photo equipment begging to be used.  I have piles of folded laundry that no one else knows how to sort and put away.  But instead I spent most of the day Wednesday and Thursday(and so far most of today) in the bed.  I’m finally feeling better(thank goodness!), but on early Thursday morning I thought I was going to die.  Seriously.  I couldn’t breathe because my tonsils were so huge.

See…a few years ago I saw an ENT about my tonsils.  I get some kind of throat pain(be it strep or just an achey throat) about once every month or two.  That’s ridiculous!  So I saw this doctor and he was all, “Those really need to come out.  Now.”  And so I scheduled the surgery for a few weeks later.  The day before I went to go do pre-op blood work, I found out that I was pregnant(the one that later ended in miscarriage), so the surgery was cancelled.   After the miscarriage, the timing just wasn’t right for rescheduling  surgery.  With Marshall’s crazy residency work schedule, I had to figure out how to make sure I had someone who could take care of me and both kids for at least a week.  So…I put if off again.

Early Thursday morning, when I thought I was dying, I had a come to Jesus talk with myself.  It’s time to suck it up and get it done.  So I got Marshall to email one of our friends from med school who is now an ENT, and I have a consultation appointment with her on January 15th.  Hopefully we’ll be able to get the surgery scheduled shortly thereafter.

There are two reasons I’m scared to death of this surgery:

1) they say that this is one of the most painful post-ops ever, and
2) what if something happens and messes with my singing voice.  I would be devastated.

But I have hope on both fronts:

1)after Marshall talked to another ENT, he told me that women recuperate faster and fair better than men, and that I’d probably be fine after 3 day if I would force myself to practice swallowing despite the pain, and
2) Melanie(my ENT friend) said that the way they do surgery now(versus when I was planning on doing it back in 2007) is much safer for singers because it doesn’t even mess with the muscles you use for singing.  Also, I checked with Dr. Google, and this problem I have with my voice just stopping on me mid-note should be resolved once I don’t have those pesky tonsils in the way.
3) Also…bonus points for this solving the problem I have with tonsilliths.  If you don’t know what these are, don’t go check it out unless you’re prepared to be grossed out.

So…in a few weeks, I’ll be braving the knife(or the coblator, actually).   Even after all the good I’ve heard, I’m still scared.  And I want to do it, but I don’t want to do it.  Y’all have to make sure I don’t wuss out!  Promise???

(If you want to see a coblation tonsillectomy, click here to watch the youtube video. It’s a surgery, but it’s blood-less.  Ignore the overly dramatic music, please.)