🧳 Hello, Fellow Unpackers! 🧳
Hey Unpackers! Hope you're well. I am back to continue this current journey I have had thrown in front of me because, well, you know, we haven’t had enough speed bumps in the road of life as yet!
I invite you all to email me so we can get to know each other. I would love to be there for you if you have your own journey you're battling with, too. Just send me an email at:
unpackingmefromthentonow@gmail.com
If I can give support or encouragement to anyone, it would be my pleasure.
As my journey continued, my surgery booked, I was becoming anxious, and I won't deny it, a little scared. I needed my eldest daughter by my side, I wouldn’t be allowed to drive for 2 weeks post-op, and had to be careful what I did at home due to restrictions on lifting and stretching post-surgery. I asked her and she said, "Mumma, if you need me to come down after the surgery, I will." She looked drained, and I could tell so much had been taking a toll on her recently. Her whole life pulled out from under her, and as much as she was home and with her own family, she missed her friends, work colleagues, and her ex's parents with whom she has a beautiful relationship with.
I said thank you to her and that I understood she had to rebuild her life back in QLD. That night I was with my parents, and after they went to bed, I was really upset. I couldn’t fall asleep and knew I couldn’t go home for the surgery without her. Two of my closest friends were on the phone and basically said, “She’s not a mind reader, you have always put everyone first, but now you need her!”
“Get off the phone and call her and tell her!”
Feeling a little like a reprimanded child but grateful for their friendship, I took their advice. I called my daughter and she answered happily and smiling. I broke down instantly, with a mixture of fear and guilt stirring inside me. My daughter was concerned, warm, and caring at the same time. Through my tears, I told her I needed her to come home with me the next day. I couldn’t drive home, I was exhausted mentally and emotionally, and I couldn’t get through the surgery or the next two weeks without her.
I recall saying I’m so sorry over and over again. She was telling me, "Don’t be sorry, and it’s ok." She said I should have expressed how much I needed her earlier instead of saying you need to rebuild your own life. From my hazy memory, I recall her saying, “Nothing is more important to me than you, Mumma!”
Trying to calm me down, her voice was soothing and mature, she said, “I’ll pack a bag before bed and I’ll come with you tomorrow.” I thanked her over and over, and she kept repeating, "It’s ok." We talked for a bit longer as a group with my daughter-in-law and my other kids. They were all talking away, cheering me up and helping me to calm down.
I felt so emotionally drained, I knew they could tell, saying our good night's, I went to bed.
Laying in my bed, I began to cry again, a mixture of happy, sad, confused, frightened, yet determined not to give up on myself. At some point, I fell asleep.
Waking up the following morning, I felt like a truck had hit me. My mind was a mess, foggy and disorganised. Looking in the mirror, I told myself to snap out of it. I showered, packed my stuff, and loaded the car. Saying goodbye to Mum and Dad was emotional; they were, as always, positive and supportive, reminding me how much I had overcome in my life to this point. You'll kick its butt my Dad said. Hugging them both, I jumped in the car and went to pick up my daughters.
We headed off, and it wasn't long before I fell asleep. My eldest daughter was driving, chatting with my youngest, saying how exhausted I was. I was feeling relieved that I had my strong and beautiful eldest daughter by my side, and so proud of who she had become. Knowing she would also support her teenage sister during the next couple of weeks.
So the cancer treatment journey was now beginning. I had to attend appointments with an anesthesiologist and physiotherapist the day before surgery. Frustrating to say the least, as parking is almost zero near the hospital. My daughter, dropping me off and heading to another location to wait, appointments done, I called her to pick me up from the front. We enjoyed the time in the car, chatting and listening to music. This bringing a brief distraction to the current circumstances of the surgery.
All this is an emotional journey with many ups and downs. I felt so drained from very little, really; however, I needed a rest. My daughter insisting I go for a nap before packing for the surgery the next day. I was also fasting, so that would be taking a toll, I thought, so I had a nap. Waking an hour or so later, I felt refreshed and calm. I packed my hospital bag and all necessities.
The day of the surgery, I woke very early at 3.45am. I felt nauseated and had a headache. Checking my sugar levels, they were quite low, however, still in the normal range. I was unable to eat or drink anything besides a sip of water until the surgery. I had to attend a radiology unit pre-surgery for dye injection, tracing, and imaging for surgery prep; however had to go to pathology first to have my pre-surgery bloods taken.
So, first stop, no parking, dropped at the front of the hospital. Went to pathology and had my blood taken. Called my daughter to pick me up again at the front, and went to the Radiologist. Checked in and seated in the waiting room. As time went by, the nausea continued to get worse. In the radiography room, I had the dye injected and had to wait for it to get to the required site, the trace to be successful, and have the imaging scan done. Each minute felt like 10, and I felt sicker and sicker as time went by. I suddenly felt like I needed to throw up, calling out to the staff for a sick bag. That was the start of the most awful morning one could imagine before going into surgery.
Due to a particular medication I was taking, I had to cease the week before, I threw up continuously for the next few hours. Anti-nausea medication wasn't helping, and they decided to scan my tummy. The special diet and fasting had not been successful in emptying my tummy contents, requiring a tube down my nose to my stomach and draining it. When they said we are going to put you to sleep now, I was relieved.
I don't remember anything else until I was in my room on the ward. I was extremely thirsty and absolutely starving. My pain wasn't too bad at that stage, and my daughters arrived to visit soon after.
Whilst my daughters were visiting, the staff brought me sandwiches, coffee, biscuits, and refilled my water jug. Those hospital sandwiches were so good, you'd think it was a 5-star meal. The coffee and bikkies topping it off perfectly. I drank a litre and a half of water during their visit. It was getting late, and it was dark outside. It was time for the girls to leave. I walked them downstairs as I felt I needed to move. Returning to my room, my nurse did my obs and brought me pain relief. I settled into bed ready for a big sleep. Only to wake up at 2315hrs. Feeling nauseated again, the nurse gave me some more antinausea medication. I felt unsettled, so I went for a little walk. Returning to my room after a bit, the nurse gave me another pain tablet, a stronger one, as my pain had increased after the anesthetic wore off.
As I lay in the hospital bed, I hoped they had removed all the cancer. Uncomfortable in the hospital gown, I tossed and turned a bit until I fell asleep. One of the most difficult things on this journey is the unknown and the waiting.
Reflecting on part 2, I feel the takeaway here is that no matter how difficult something is, different stages feel harder to deal with; however, we have no choice but to get through each stage minute by minute and make it out the other side okay. Believing in yourself, knowing you are strong enough, and remembering you are not alone.
Sending love and strength to all of you ❤️
Tee 🩷 xox