"And my scars remind me that the past is real" - Papa Roach, Scars
To put it quite simply, 2007 was hell. That was the year I lost all control.
Well, here's what happened first. Not to gross out the men who are reading this, but I have to say this or everyone will be lost. On April 16, 2007, I had gotten my period, just like I was supposed to. But something was wrong. I was throwing up (and I usually don't throw up) and I was running a fever. Also, I had the worst pains in my stomach. Horrible, horrible pains. The type of pain that makes you want to crawl into your bed and never, ever, come out. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to lie in bed comfortably either. Every toss and turn just hurt more. Finally, my mother said "Let's go see the doctor"
The doctor told me to lie on my back, and she pressed down on my stomach. "Does this hurt?" she asked. Yes. Oh, yes. She thought about it for a minute. "Well, you could have pulled a muscle or something. Have you started excursing?" I had started my gym class, so yes. She decided to be safe and take a blood test. When she came back she said, "Your white blood cells are a little high. Kind of like they are trying to stop an infection. It might not be anything, but you should go to the hospital"
And my parents, both who are very protective, decided to follow her advice and take me to LIJ You want hell? Sit in an emergency room for five hours in pain. Or, and then try to get comfortable on gurneys and doctors look at you and basically say, "We have no idea what's wrong here"
At about 10:00 pm that Wednesday night, I was admitted into the hospital. At 6:00 am the next morning, two young doctors came in. "We have good news and bad news. Good news is, we found what the problem is. Bad news is it's an ovarian cyst and it needs to be taken out now"
My mom asked the big question first. "Is it cancer?"
"No," the doctor replied. Later, when I got home, I found out that 98% of ovarian cysts are noncancer, which was a relief.
So at 8:00 am, April, 19, 2007, I was prepared for surgery. It's mindblowing, actually, lying there, knowing two young doctors are going to look inside of you. It was weird also. I kept thinking of all the times I have seen people have surgery on television, and here I am, living it.
I don't remember much before the surgery. I remember my parents trying to make jokes, but I really wasn't in the mood to laugh. I remember a nurse telling me what was going to happen after. I remember another nurse coming in and saying, "I'm going to be your best friend. I'm giving you the drugs"
I remember laughing at that.
I remember being rolled down the long hallway, and entering a cold room. I also thought "Hmm, this looks like the surgery room in Scrubs"
It's amazing what comes to you at important moments.
I remember the doctor making some joke, and then, lights out. Next thing I knew, I saw my mother and father standing there saying, "Megan? Megan, are you alright?"
And I remember groaning and going back to sleep.
I remember waking up and not seeing my mother or my father. I remember a nurse came by and said that since I was awake, they were going to take me back to my room. I remember having to move from the gurney back to the bed, and being in pain. But a different pain. More like soreness than throbbing pain. I remember the nurse who treated me was named Susan, my aunt's name. The same aunt who died almost eight years ago.
I was released that Saturday, and I was so happy to be home that I actually cried. My grandma was still alive at that point, and I remember seeing her and her just crying and holding me.
You know, when you're in school, all you want to do is go home. But when you're stuck at home, all you want to do is go to school. It's crazy, I know, but about a week after my surgery, I was like "So, when I am going back?" to which my parents were both like "We'll see"
It was a little over two weeks before I went back. Believe me, I was so happy to be back.
I thought everything was going back to normal.
Until August 2007.
My grandmother had been complaining of intergestion for a while. We all thought it was for different reasons. When we were in Disney World, she was sitting a lot. She wasn't walking around like she did at home (my grandma lived with us. She lived on the first floor, while my family took the second and third), she was stressing herself out over this trip. It's nothing. Once we get home, things will get better.
We were home less than a week when my grandma asked if my parents could take her to the doctor. Once again, the doc saw something he didn't like and said "You should go to the hospital"
On August 6, she was admitted. I went to visit her with my parents, and she was talkative, but she just wanted to go home.
On August 13, my mother told me what she had known since that past Friday. "She's sick," she told me. "She has cancer"
The doctor's didn't know where it started. It was all over her lower intestines. "It was a miracle she was able to walk into the hospital" the doctor's said.
After that it just got worse. She became less talkative. She was getting paler and weaker. Finally she asked my mother not to bring me anymore. "I don't want Megan to remember me like this" she said. "Leave her home"
I saw her one last time on August 17. Her hair wasn't curly or blonde, like it always was. Instead it was white and sliked back. My cousins - who were expecting their first child - my mother, and I were sitting there. Right before I left, I kissed her on the cheek and said, "I love you Momma. And I miss you"
She held my hand and said, "I love you too. And I miss you"
She died September 7, a little before six in the morning. That was my first day of senior year.
2007 was an awful year for my family. I kept feeling like I was loosing control of everything. Everything was changing, and I couldn't stop it. Last year was a nightmare that I never want to relive again.
Monday, September 29, 2008
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5 comments:
Hey Meghan, I know both kinds of pain. I've had cyst several times. OMG! it hurts like crazy! The same thing happened with my Poppa they didn't find the bone cancer until the 4th stage of it when he kept telling the doctors h e had back pain they told him it was different things., but unfortunately it wasn't.
I started to tear up reading this blog. I am so sorry =(. That year really must have been so difficult for you. <3333333333
Meghan, my grandfather lived with us after my grandma died. That was about 30 years ago. I remember when my Grandpa died, we called him Bisnono (italian for great grandpa). By the time he died 1991 my first child, Anthony was born and so he was Bisnono. I remember it like it was yesterday. I am sorry for your pain, your memories of your grandma are a testament to the kind of person she was and how one person can make a difference. Thank you for being so open and unafraid when you write. Can we see some more pictures? You have a very expressive face.
Really good, intelligent, and thougtful blog post. A nice bit of writing.
i really got teary eyed as well. im glad everything with you is okay. you should be proud of yourself for dealing as well as you did with all of the obstacles that came your way
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