Monday, September 19, 2011

Steamroller blues

Going to Soroka (non-birthing areas, that is) is just such a crazy thing for me. I mean really crazy. It is so traumatic, and I only now decided to come out and say that (realize it out loud, actually). I have to go there so often, it seems. Being at Soroka re-traumatizes me each and every time. It is a trauma vortex, and it sucks me in.

Knowing that I need to go there makes me not go to sleep well the night before.
Driving there, looking for parking, it is so traumatically familiar. I think I need to use that word a lot with this writing tonight because I am trying to get~ it~ out. Does it ever get out, the trauma?? Will I reach a  point that I am ready to let go?

To top off the whole experience of being at Soroka today, the pain clinic is conveniently located right near the surgical wing. Many, many memories in that wing. As I filled my water bottle today, I turned around and noticed that I was in the exact waiting room that my husband and father-in-law (of blessed memory) were waiting for news about what was wrong with me. They soon learned, as the surgeon walked out to tell them, that I may be dying, that there is some sort of "bad bug" on board. (those were the words used).

So there I was today, filling my water bottle at the fountain. It was like I was seeing ghosts reenacting that day, being in that room. I should have been happy that I am there and well today, but happiness wasn't my emotion. I wanted to cry. Not so far away from that area my surgery was going on, trying to save my life. I know it sounds dramatic, and 'that was then, this is now'... but for me, then and now aren't separated. I have not birthed that baby. I keep the trauma of the crazy thing that happened to me inside me. Like my heart is inside me. Kind of like that.

So, skip to the appointment with the pain doctor.
I had never met him before.
I had the same sort of monotone as I explained why I was there, and the chain of events that landed me in his office. I am sort of just inanimate when 'trauma vortex' is the personality talking.

After a long litany of the meds I *have* tried and why they failed for one reason or the other, this doctor decided he had the perfect drug for me. Oh, this was after I said that I am interested in options aside from medications (nerve blocking). He ignored that and went right to suggesting a medication. It was one of the meds that *had* worked for me, but I had to stop because it started making me throw up. So he recommended it again but this newer version of it has an antidote to a side effect, which would be perfect for me. Except that the side effect is constipation. I never told him I had constipation problems. Had he asked, I'd have told him that I am pleased with my regularity, thank you very much, but he didn't ask. So, here is this medicine, oxycodone, but with soft stools. Joy.
But.... umm....HELLO!!!!!!! I'm Not Constipated!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Maybe he is?)
but anyway, he didn't hear me.

So, I left there feeling so... bleak.
I walked through the hospital to go to the cafe. They have soy milk lattes there, and it isn't so easy to get them other places in the city. I usually get one when I go there.

Then I was grateful to meet a good friend for a lunch buffet at the Indian restaurant. Good food, good company. Gratitude.

I was so exhausted, and I wanted to cry so badly. The vortex had seeped through me in that place. I wanted to cathartic-ly cry it all out, then take a nap and a shower. *Then* I'd feel better. A nice cup of tea, and I'd be good to go.. But there would be no time to cry. The day was busy, and although I wasn't ready for it, it was coming. I had to start to run so that the steam roller behind me wouldn't catch up, you know?

How really does anyone keep up with everything in life? I mean, is it possible? Common-- there were three different parent meetings for my kids at three different schools at the same time tonight, with my husband out of town. I didn't go to any of them because I had promised my son I'd take him out shopping. It was a promise I needed to stand by. We went shopping, I ignored the general meetings, the pain, tiredness, emotional upheaval.

How really are we supposed to absorb all of our children's issues and make it all OK? And all the things that have to be done-- it's endless. How do people really do it?! And why am I not cutting it? One kid needs help with homework. One needs help getting his books together, he needs new glasses also. Food, clean up, cook, feed constantly. Laundry. One kid is very together, but she needs me-- a lot. I need time to get her to the pediatrician for a nagging cough. Oh, another kid needs a dermatologist appointment for a foot thing. The little one, he says *constantly* that he needs me. Just like that. If I ask him what he wants to eat for dinner, it's "you"! (then we go around trying to eat each other). Also, I need them more than anything in the world.

But it's just all too hard for me. I am not cutting it. The steam roller is catching up, and I'm not sure how much faster I can run.

(BTW- the title is a reference to the song by James Taylor by the same name.)

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