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It's been a while.
Sep. 2nd, 2013 12:47 amI've been neglecting this journal. Partly because I've been busy, and partly because I just haven't wanted to deal with a lot of stuff since the surgery and since I've returned to work. I'm capable of working again, which is good. I'm glad of that. But there's still some stuff I need to get off my chest, so I'm back to old habits, returning to a personal journal in the hope that I can get some of this stuff out and maybe that'll help me come to grips with what's been bothering me.
I think the surgery did more damage that I first thought.
Not physically. Mentally. I had moments during the first few months, where I'd suddenly stop and go, "Whoa, somebody cut me open and played around my with insides!" And it felt surreal, and sometimes it freaked me out enough that it was hard to not cry, but I put it all off the being early in the healing process, and still adjusting from lousy health to recovering health, and then pushed it all further aside because hey, I shouldn't be feeling weird about stuff. I'm getting better! I should be happy!
And I was. Am. And will be.
But the dreams...
I've started to have dreams where I'm back in the hospital, and they've figured out that something is still wrong with me or something new is wrong, and they have to keep me there and do tests. And those dreams stress me out, more than I think they should.
I half-woke up one morning last week, only covered in a bedsheet, and in my half-awake state I had the unsettling notion that I was in the hospital, covered only in a sheet again, waiting on the gurney to get wheeled into the OR where they'd cut me open again.
Then there's the matter of medicine. I used to like that dopey sleepy heavy feeling of taking something like NyQuil and falling into a deep and restful sleep. It meant that I'd sleep well, and fall asleep quickly, and rest enough that I'd feel better in the morning than I felt the night before. Now, I feel trepidation when I take anything that has that effect. Why? because the feeling I get from it is a milder but similar version of that second between being injested with anesthetic and falling under, that one second in which I groaned from the sensation and then felt nothing at all.
Which, it hit me all of a sudden about a month ago, was actually the scariest thing I can imagine. Because if something had gone terribly stupidly wrong during the surgery, there'd be no way I'd have known. There was nothing between that groan and waking up later on as they took me into post-op. Not even the vague sensation of time passing. Just a dark void. And if I had died, my last memory would have been of that groan, that sensation, and then nothingness. And that scares the ever-loving hell out of me, and I'm not exaggerating. There are tears in my eyes as I type this, just remembering that realization.
So now taking NyQuil fills me with this unpleasant unreasoning discomfort whereby in my sunconscious, I start fearing falling asleep because part of me associates it with a void of uncertainty and then pain afterward.
This is the shit they don't prep you for when tell you they're cutting you open. Or if they're supposed to, my doctor gave me no such courtesy. I don't know if this is normal, or if I'm overreacting because of various other mental issues I've had to deal with over the years, or what. But it's freaking me the hell out and the dreams and thoughts are getting more common, and I don't know if I should push past them and they'll go away, or if I should be calling my therapist and booking appointments again.
Grief counseling is supposed to work for stuff like this, because what is grief but having to deal with sudden unexpected and unpleasant life changes?
I don't want more dreams about being in the hospital, or about being sick again. I don't want to hate that feeling of actually getting rest and knowing my cold will be better in the morning. Is it even possible for me to deal with this stuff on my own, or should I just cave and get professional help, and then possibly add all this to the complaint about my doctor and why she made numerous mistakes and also didn't prep me for this when she knew my history of mental illness?
Do I blame my brain, her, or both?
And does it even matter?
I hate those dreams.
I think the surgery did more damage that I first thought.
Not physically. Mentally. I had moments during the first few months, where I'd suddenly stop and go, "Whoa, somebody cut me open and played around my with insides!" And it felt surreal, and sometimes it freaked me out enough that it was hard to not cry, but I put it all off the being early in the healing process, and still adjusting from lousy health to recovering health, and then pushed it all further aside because hey, I shouldn't be feeling weird about stuff. I'm getting better! I should be happy!
And I was. Am. And will be.
But the dreams...
I've started to have dreams where I'm back in the hospital, and they've figured out that something is still wrong with me or something new is wrong, and they have to keep me there and do tests. And those dreams stress me out, more than I think they should.
I half-woke up one morning last week, only covered in a bedsheet, and in my half-awake state I had the unsettling notion that I was in the hospital, covered only in a sheet again, waiting on the gurney to get wheeled into the OR where they'd cut me open again.
Then there's the matter of medicine. I used to like that dopey sleepy heavy feeling of taking something like NyQuil and falling into a deep and restful sleep. It meant that I'd sleep well, and fall asleep quickly, and rest enough that I'd feel better in the morning than I felt the night before. Now, I feel trepidation when I take anything that has that effect. Why? because the feeling I get from it is a milder but similar version of that second between being injested with anesthetic and falling under, that one second in which I groaned from the sensation and then felt nothing at all.
Which, it hit me all of a sudden about a month ago, was actually the scariest thing I can imagine. Because if something had gone terribly stupidly wrong during the surgery, there'd be no way I'd have known. There was nothing between that groan and waking up later on as they took me into post-op. Not even the vague sensation of time passing. Just a dark void. And if I had died, my last memory would have been of that groan, that sensation, and then nothingness. And that scares the ever-loving hell out of me, and I'm not exaggerating. There are tears in my eyes as I type this, just remembering that realization.
So now taking NyQuil fills me with this unpleasant unreasoning discomfort whereby in my sunconscious, I start fearing falling asleep because part of me associates it with a void of uncertainty and then pain afterward.
This is the shit they don't prep you for when tell you they're cutting you open. Or if they're supposed to, my doctor gave me no such courtesy. I don't know if this is normal, or if I'm overreacting because of various other mental issues I've had to deal with over the years, or what. But it's freaking me the hell out and the dreams and thoughts are getting more common, and I don't know if I should push past them and they'll go away, or if I should be calling my therapist and booking appointments again.
Grief counseling is supposed to work for stuff like this, because what is grief but having to deal with sudden unexpected and unpleasant life changes?
I don't want more dreams about being in the hospital, or about being sick again. I don't want to hate that feeling of actually getting rest and knowing my cold will be better in the morning. Is it even possible for me to deal with this stuff on my own, or should I just cave and get professional help, and then possibly add all this to the complaint about my doctor and why she made numerous mistakes and also didn't prep me for this when she knew my history of mental illness?
Do I blame my brain, her, or both?
And does it even matter?
I hate those dreams.