Music Through the Pain Part 3

The next day would dawn clear and hot, but long before it did,  my blue vinyl chariot arrived as usual to take me to radiology for my daily Xray. I sighed as I disconnected my own tube and hastily smoothed my hair down. Climbing into the wheelchair, my vision was as vivid as it had been the night before and I wondered if anyone could tell that I had been in the presence of God. Glimpsing my reflection as we passed the mirror, I realized that I looked the same, but I hugged my secret to myself knowing that I was forever changed inside.

My friend Julie arrived shortly after 10am, bearing a gift. The ladies class that I lead on Sunday mornings had anointed and prayed over a prayer cloth for me. Julie explained, "I could literally feel the electricity in it while we were praying, and I had to get it to you while it was still buzzing!" I promptly tied it around my wrist, and have kept it with me ever since. Even now, it is with me, next to my heart. (If you are unfamiliar with this practice, it is described in Acts 19:11,12)

(The smile is fake; I am miserable and in pain. Note the prayer cloth tied around my wrist. Cute jammies and French-braided hair courtesy of Summer who could not bear for me to look sick.)

My doctor arrived shortly afterwards, and told me that it was time to do something different. My body was not healing itself and I was truly no better than when I arrived. He told me he had ordered another CT scan for the following morning, and if it showed an obstruction then he would plan to take me to surgery the following day.

I spent that day miserable, sucking on ice chips and hurting. That night, I sent everyone home and back to work. After all, the CT scan would be sometime the next day, and I had no idea how long it would take to get results back. And even if they were positive, my doctor had said surgery on Tuesday, if it was needed. That was two days away, and my family needed to resume their lives.

Monday morning, long before daybreak, the night shift nurse flipped on the light and plunked down a quart-sized container of the familiar chalky vanilla contrast for the CT scan. "I need you to drink this," she told me. I looked at her as if she were speaking another language. I had not had anything but ice chips for more than a week, and the thought of drinking anything that looked and tasted like sweetened Elmer’s glue gave me the creeps. Even if I could choke it down, I knew it would not stay down.

"Let’s put it down my tube," I told her. Now it was her turn to look shocked. "I’ll have to ask,", she said as she scurried off.  I knew it would be fine, but first they would have to assure that my tube was in the proper place. After all, I had enough problems without having radiology contrast poured into a lung.

This time, there would be no ride down the hallway to Radiology; instead they came to me, bringing the huge garantuan portable Xray machine. In the comfort of my own bed they Xrayed me to determine where the tip of my tube was, then we waited for the Radiologist to confirm placement.  The nurse came in to give me the green light; all was in place and the nasty contrast could go down my tube. She administered the first syringe-full and told me she’d be back to complete the rest.

I have always had trouble drawing the line between being a nurse and being a patient, so with Sissy helping me I syringed the rest of the white goo down my tube and clamped it. By 10:00 Sissy had left to go to work and I had completed my CT scan and returned to my room. Chuck and Summer were both at work, so I settled down for a long dull day, waiting for CT results and wondering if I would have surgery the next day.

At 12noon a different nurse came rushing into my room with a consent form for me to sign. I must have looked confused because she asked "Didn’t you know? You’re going to surgery in an hour."  AN HOUR?WHAT HAPPENED TO SURGERY TOMORROW IF YOU NEED IT?

The doctor had already spoken with Chuck and he was on his way to the hospital. I called Summer and Sissy to let them know the plan had changed; although I told both of them there was no need for them to come, of course they both left work immediately.  Almost as soon as I hung up, the surgical nurse was there to help me into a surgical gown and wheel me and my bed back to the operating room.  The CT scan from that morning had revealed that I did indeed have an obstruction and my intestine was dangerously dilated. That was the reason for the sudden urgency of doing surgery.

(Possibly one of the worst pictures ever. On my way to surgery; the smile is real because finally they knew what was wrong with me. The dumb hairstyle and the hospital gown are evidence that Summer was not in charge that day!)

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#800080″>Back in surgery, the anesthetist placed a new IV in my arm then the nurse administered a light sedative. They both asked about the prayer cloth that was now tied around my ankle. After explaining what it was, I made them both promise that it would stay put. They both told me it could stay.

I drowsily remember being wheeled into the operating room and being amazed at all the people who were scurrying around. Two nurses, already masked and gloved, were preparing and counting instruments. The anesthetist was joined by an anesthesiologist. More nurses guided me as I transferred from my bed onto the hard operating table. The last thing I remember is the soothing voice of the anesthesiologist as she lulled me to dreamland. The next instant I was waking up in post-op with a searing pain in my abdomen, and a voice calling my name and asking me to take some deep breaths.

To be continued…….