The Aftermath

I was absolutely sure that I overslept, did not hear the alarm, which is highly unusual, but then how come the microwave was beeping? Or the dishwasher? Or…

Hold on a second. If I overslept who set the microwave or the dishwasher or whatever was beeping?

OMG! It’s the reminder for my conference call! I jumped out of bed, or I thought so, my brain was so stressed out that I missed something then I heard a phone ringing.

Who’s phone? That’s not my ringtone?

The beeping picked up the pace then another thought hit me like a hammer “Maxim! I overslept, something is going to explode (at least this is what the beeping sounded indicated to me) and where is my son?!” I shouted as loud and as calmly possible (if there is such a combination at all… and, of course, I thought I was shouting) and then I heard my own voice moaning like a panicked caw or more like a very scared cornered animal. Can’t describe it, very embarrassing, never ever had a sedative of any kind and never had the experience of coming out of it and regaining consciousness.

I had a C-section with my son with epidural, completely different experience (and completely different horror for that matter, but again, that’s another story…), but at least then my brain was functioning so I was totally unprepared for this experience.

Did not like it a bit.

I doubt anyone would like it, but had to say it.

“WTF”, I thought, in my mind I was already out of the bed, running around the house looking for my son and for the imminent beeping explosion when I heard calm voice, which completely confused me: “She’s coming around.” Who is coming around? And rom where? And who…

“Hey, it’s me,” oh, thank Gog! My husband is here, he will.. “Try to relax and calm down, they said you might feel confused so really important that you try and calm down, ok?”

I realised or more like I “felt” his voice and warm breath by my ear as “realising” at this exact moment was not even a word I could pronounce, let alone understand what it means.

“Just don’t try to talk (yeah, like that could have happened anyway…), don’t think about anything (again – not a chance – it was only chaos in my mind then), Maxim is fine, I am fine and you are fine,” he said and I felt his palm on my forehead. As my husband is basically everything for me, my rock and true partner in whatever live throws at us, that helped.

But then again, me being me, started asking questions, or I thought so, as the sound that came out of my mouth sounded like a dying cat – very, very embarrassing… “Honestly, stop! I know you can hear me, you have to calm down or you will blow up half the equipment here, your blood pressure is really high (aha! this is where the beeping comes from, but hold on…), and unless you want to be put under again (under? under what?) you really, REALLY have to calm down.” He gently squeezed my hand and paused for a second.

“Keep talking to her”, someone quietly suggested, “It takes time sometimes but if her blood pressure doesn’t go down we’ll have to sedate her again.”

WHAT?! Sedate me! But why? I…

“Ok, ok.” I heard my husband. Then a deep breath. “You know I still can’t get it how come someone your size can cause so much trouble? Your dad warned me, before we got married, hell, half your neighbourhood was clearly relieved that you’re leaving.” Nervous chuckle and a short pause “But honestly, the guy on the second floor, the mechanic, that you scared to death with one of your snakes – I’m sure he’s still celebrating.” Then I heard my husband laughing quietly and what do you know – I was laughing with him.

Not really “lady-like”, more like a “snoring-like-laughing”, but I was laughing.

Somewhere around that moment I regained control over my eyes and managed to open them, or at least one of them, can’t be sure.

“Yeah, you laugh now, but the poor guy will remember you till his last day!” More laughing.

Then my brain started to have sparkles and flashes here and there – which obviously did not help the beeping – but my husband knew who was he dealing with so the way he talked to me suddenly changed.

“Listen to me. We are in a hospital and you panicked, like a lot, so they had to sedate you. I know you don’t like how you feel right now, but if you don’t put yourself together you’re going under again and have to deal with all this AGAIN.”

Someone tried to intervene, whispering something – later on he told me that the nurses were horrified and “how could you?!?!” talk to her like that and I was very close to be sedated again but he managed to delay them just enough for me to “accept the challenge”.

"That beeping you hear,” he kept talking, “It needs to go down and the only way is for you to calm down – that is, if you can, of course. I’ll understand if you can’t.”                

Ohh, sometimes I really hate him... he knows how to push all my buttons...  I know, it sounds crazy, but not for me back then.

And, of course, the “challenge” was accepted.

I got angry. He thought I couldn’t deal with some beeping?! 

Back then I could still be angry and have a perfectly normal heartbeat, panic was introduced to me as a concept before I was sedated.

And anger and panic are not the same thing. At least not for me.

I felt that I have more and more control over my body, which helped, so I closed my eyes, “disconnected” from all the noise around me (the beeping was really driving me nuts!) and went back to the meadows, where we were having picnics with my family and stayed there.

I could still here, somewhere in the distance my husband “she is fine, I promise you, just give her a few minutes,” but I stayed in my “happy place”.

Unfortunately, while I was there everything that happened that led to the fact that I was in a hospital came back to me too. But, as I’m sure I’ve already mentioned somewhere, I’m very good at “ignoring things” so I pushed it down.

My husband was still taking fire from the nurses and the doctor (apparently he appeared from somewhere while I was in my “meadow/happy place”, when I could clearly hear the beeping sound going slower and slower.

There was still beeping, of course, but it didn’t sound like a bomb going to explode any minute now. I kept breathing slowly for a few more minutes and the panic was gone (for the time being). I didn’t know at this exact moment that this is what panic combined with fear feels like. As I said – we have just met and I wasn’t sure “who” or “what” she is (the panic), the same feeling when you meet a stranger and something puts you off the moment you shake hands with him/her. I’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with her at a later point, but for the time being let’s stay at the moment when I “she introduced herself to me.”

I’ve opened my eyes, now fully aware what happened, but still not sure how much of my vocal and mobile abilities I regained. The doctor was next to me along with my husband.

While I was trying to come up with words that would be easy to pronounce (my mouth was so dry I wasn’t sure I can open it) a nurse offered a glass of water with a straw. I just nodded, the glass came closer, then water… Ah, water…

I know that all this might sound exaggerated – everyone knows how it feels after being sedated (at least the once being sedated I mean) – but it was a first time (and the last I hope!) for me and scared the shit out of me!

You think you are there, but you are not.

You think you are talking, but you are not.

You think you can move, but you can’t.    

And I’m pretty sure there were more embarrassing things I did or say, or at least try, because every time we talk about that with my husband I can see he’s not telling me everything. And I’m not asking. Don’t want to know. Had to be done – so they sedated me – that’s on me, being stupid, arrogant and… stupid…

I was given a bit more time, had some more water and started feeling myself again.

With one difference.

I wasn’t loud anymore, nor interrupting anyone and truly ashamed of my behaviour. I was really convinced they got something wrong. But after the doctor showed me my chest x-ray it was obvious that if anyone got something wrong, that was me.

“I was that close to being sedated myself”, whispered in my ear my husband, “I swear that nurse over there was ready not just to sedate me, but to put me down for good…”, he kept talking and before I even realised I was already laughing.

Like a lot.

Both of us.

Quietly, with some tears and pain, but laughing. 

I didn’t know then that this was not my first and last visit to the ER. I didn’t know that my body was desperately seaming to get my attention so I can start caring for myself as I should have to.

I just didn’t know. I mean back then self-care for me was a quick shower, always skipping breakfast – no time… - having “lunch” or “dinner” whenever I could on the “go”, while doing at least two other things and, of course, my favourite – running (back then this was my true escape and getting the “runners high” is the best feeling in the world, still is, only I can’t run that way so I get that experience), and finally – finishing the day with a nice, big glass of red wine, again while working. And when the glass was empty, usually way after midnight, I went to bed. That was my self-care more or less. 

My conscious was completely back along with my mobility and vocal abilities when the doctor came to check on me again.

I already knew exactly what happened, I knew it was serious, very, VERY serious so my stupid behaviour was completely gone. I had faced the facts, now I needed information how to deal with this. Before I managed to say how sorry I am for my behaviour and apologise as I felt like a total spoiled brat, the doctor sat on my bed, smiled at me and said:

“I see you feel better know and no need to apologise, I know all this can be very scary, but I have to admit – for a moment there you really managed to get to me, which happen very rarely, so all the nurses like you already,” he chuckled and for my surprise I did the same. That gave me sense of control, my usual control over everything around me, except this time this sense of control was falls.

“So no one will spit in my water,” I said in attempt to delay what he came to tell me (I knew, of course, he’s not just visiting for a joke or two…), “good to know, hope they don’t spit in yours.”

“Ah, good point and nice try, but I don’t use nurses for waitresses, I can get my own drink”, he smiled again and I felt he was getting nervous.

My husband came back with another glass of water, but instead giving it to me, sat on a chair near me and said nothing. He felt the same tense atmosphere so his just sat and waited.

I tried to sit up and look more “in control”, no one tried to help me, which I really appreciated, mentally prepared myself, or I thought so.

“I know you said there is no need to apologise, but I will feel so much better if I do so…” Pause on my side as I tried to make it short, which is always a problem with me. “I’m truly sorry for my behaviour, never been in similar situation and I truly though someone got something wrong, I am really, really, sorry. That’s all I’ll say, I know there is no excuse but at least I can assure you it will never happen again. Thank you for putting up with me and… I’ll shut up now..."

“No need, but thank you for saying it – putting up with you it’s not easy, to put it mildly and this is where we have to discuss your current health condition.” – he was not smiling anymore. “I have a few questions, afterwards I’ll explain again what you experienced and then talk about recovery or surgery. Do you feel ready to discuss this?”

“Yes”, I nodded. The fear was gone, the panic was gone, I was in control again (or, as I said so many times, I thought so – God, my ego was massive…) "absolutely". Although the word “surgery” tried to get to me but I send her away.

After my first C-section the only way to go under the knife was if I was truly dying. Nothing else could make me and for the life of me – I honestly can’t understand why normal, healthy people do this to themselves just to look better… I’m referring to plastic surgery or anything similar and I’m sure they had their reasons, but I’ll die with all my wrinkles, cellulite, stretchmarks, whatever, I don’t care – but no surgery of any kind for sure.

My husband sat on the bed by me, we shared a quick smile and then I had the first conversation about my health in my life that I shouldn’t ignore. Well, I didn’t fully, but in general I did ignore it later on…