I was terribly afraid, as I had been told I may have cancer and there was no way to be certain until they cut me open to investigate. I knew there was a strong likelihood that I would wake up without my reproductive organs, although my doctor had assured me she would do her best to save anything she was able to. I thought of how badly my husband of four years, and the love of my life, wanted a baby of our own, and how devastated he may be if I was unable to give him one. I thought of how devastated I would be to lose the option of having his baby. I thought of my own son, who was only twelve years old, and how much he needed his mother at such a precarious age of life. So tough to be twelve for anyone, and the thought of him losing me, and only having his biological father to care for him, was one of the most terrifying fears I held in my heart.
The technician finally pushed my gurney into the operating room, full of bright lights and medical instruments. My own surgeon was not even present. I was fighting a massive anxiety attack, and praying to God that I would wake up at all, let alone with any of my reproductive organs intact. As I lay there and they moved me to the operating table, it was a nurse who took my hand, rubbed my forehead and assured me she would be there the entire time. It was a nurse who helped me count backwards as the anesthesia took effect and I drifted off into the darkness.
It was a team of nurses who were there when I woke up and had a bad reaction to the anesthesia, which caused everyone to think I may not recover. It was the nurses who talked to my husband and father and brought them back into the post-op triage to see me once they had stabilized me. I saw their terrified faces, and it was the nurses who assured them I was going to be okay. It was the nurses who came in and out of my hospital room twenty-four hours straight for the following few days, taking care of my every need, calling me sweetheart, or joking along with me as I tried to be cheerful. It was a nurse who wheeled me out of the hospital and wished me well when I was finally free to go home.
I am blessed and grateful to say I did not have cancer, but a long overdue diagnosis of endometriosis. It returned within a year and I went to see an out-of-state specialist for a more extensive and thorough surgery to remove as much of the poisonous cells as possible. Once again, it was the nurses who catered to me, cared for me, and made me feel safe. I remember waking up from the second surgery to a lovely woman stroking my hair and telling me how pretty my highlights were. I remember the funny male nurse who was on my room duty and kept insisting I was partially Asian, like he was. It was the nursing staff who cheered me on and kept calling me a rock star, as I took lap after lap around the unit floor to prevent pain from the gas they filled me with, and to increase my rate of recovery. It was the nurses who brought me endless cups of ice chips when I was forbidden to eat anything else.
Thanks to the doctors and the nurses who took care of me, I was able to give my husband that baby he desired. Once again, the nurses were my earthly saviors on that day. I will never forget the beautiful young woman who monitored my every contraction and stayed attentive to my every need. My own doctor missed the birth as she thought she had time to grocery shop while I was in labor and a substitute resident took over the actual delivery, almost dropping my baby due to her inexperience. The beautiful young woman who was my nurse is the one who made me feel safe during that experience. She is the one who convinced me it was okay to give my baby formula in place of breast milk that had not come in yet. She lovingly fed my baby her first bottle, and cared for her as if she were the most precious baby in the world. It was the nurses who helped me get to the bathroom, treat my stitches, get a shower, took my baby when they could tell I needed some sleep, and cooed and ahhed with me over the new miracle baby girl in my arms. It was the nurses who came into the room when my husband was attempting to change his first diaper and things did not go so well.
It is the nurses who have the unpleasant job of giving my daughter vaccinations so the doctor is not the feared figure. It is the nurses who do the unpleasant tests that involve long cotton swabs, urine, and needles.
It is nurses who often struggle with their own health and well-being because they spend endless and exhausting hours caring for so many others. It is nurses who keep the charts for the doctors and must have the same knowledge of the many medical terms and conditions. It is the nurses who work long, endless, days, and even longer nights.
I have had a fair amount of medical issues and have a thick medical history file. I could go on and share even more experiences, but what I want to share is a thank you. Thank you to every man or woman who has made the decision to not just take care of others who are sick, or injured; but who make those same people feel cared for, and feel cared about.
You are truly angels that walk this earth. Thank you, and God bless you all.
It was a team of nurses who were there when I woke up and had a bad reaction to the anesthesia, which caused everyone to think I may not recover. It was the nurses who talked to my husband and father and brought them back into the post-op triage to see me once they had stabilized me. I saw their terrified faces, and it was the nurses who assured them I was going to be okay. It was the nurses who came in and out of my hospital room twenty-four hours straight for the following few days, taking care of my every need, calling me sweetheart, or joking along with me as I tried to be cheerful. It was a nurse who wheeled me out of the hospital and wished me well when I was finally free to go home.
I am blessed and grateful to say I did not have cancer, but a long overdue diagnosis of endometriosis. It returned within a year and I went to see an out-of-state specialist for a more extensive and thorough surgery to remove as much of the poisonous cells as possible. Once again, it was the nurses who catered to me, cared for me, and made me feel safe. I remember waking up from the second surgery to a lovely woman stroking my hair and telling me how pretty my highlights were. I remember the funny male nurse who was on my room duty and kept insisting I was partially Asian, like he was. It was the nursing staff who cheered me on and kept calling me a rock star, as I took lap after lap around the unit floor to prevent pain from the gas they filled me with, and to increase my rate of recovery. It was the nurses who brought me endless cups of ice chips when I was forbidden to eat anything else.
Thanks to the doctors and the nurses who took care of me, I was able to give my husband that baby he desired. Once again, the nurses were my earthly saviors on that day. I will never forget the beautiful young woman who monitored my every contraction and stayed attentive to my every need. My own doctor missed the birth as she thought she had time to grocery shop while I was in labor and a substitute resident took over the actual delivery, almost dropping my baby due to her inexperience. The beautiful young woman who was my nurse is the one who made me feel safe during that experience. She is the one who convinced me it was okay to give my baby formula in place of breast milk that had not come in yet. She lovingly fed my baby her first bottle, and cared for her as if she were the most precious baby in the world. It was the nurses who helped me get to the bathroom, treat my stitches, get a shower, took my baby when they could tell I needed some sleep, and cooed and ahhed with me over the new miracle baby girl in my arms. It was the nurses who came into the room when my husband was attempting to change his first diaper and things did not go so well.
It is the nurses who have the unpleasant job of giving my daughter vaccinations so the doctor is not the feared figure. It is the nurses who do the unpleasant tests that involve long cotton swabs, urine, and needles.
It is nurses who often struggle with their own health and well-being because they spend endless and exhausting hours caring for so many others. It is nurses who keep the charts for the doctors and must have the same knowledge of the many medical terms and conditions. It is the nurses who work long, endless, days, and even longer nights.
I have had a fair amount of medical issues and have a thick medical history file. I could go on and share even more experiences, but what I want to share is a thank you. Thank you to every man or woman who has made the decision to not just take care of others who are sick, or injured; but who make those same people feel cared for, and feel cared about.
You are truly angels that walk this earth. Thank you, and God bless you all.
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