Triggered

Trigger
3: to cause an intense and usually negative emotional reaction in someone

Being in the counseling space I’ve heard the word trigger for years. I’ve even used it a few times when talking about something sensitive in an attempt to keep someone from reliving a trauma in reaction to something I am about to say or do. I have even experienced some triggers in the past, but I never really suspected I had anything that I needed to be cautious of related to triggering past trauma. Yesterday and today has me rethinking that.

I had a doctor appointment yesterday to address nagging knee pain that hasn’t really improved since I hurt it during the Rockin’ Rockwoods 53k I ran back in October. I have seen my chiropractor regularly since then, and the knee pain would improve, then act up, then improve, and now 8 months later he and I agreed that we should probably look into what else might be going on (besides the really tight quad and calf that we have been working on).

A good friend recommended a particular sports medicine doctor and I was delighted to get in to see him within a week. I met with him yesterday and thought to myself when I got there how typical a doctor’s office is. They mostly ask the same questions and gather the same information. Weight, height, allergies, medications, etc. I noticed two differences this time: first, no one balked at the fact that I am an ultrarunner and have been running on the knee that’s causing pain for 8 months and second, this is the first new doctor visit I have been to in the last few years where I didn’t have to take off my pants. Dealing with a reproductive type of cancer, it seemed that every office I entered had this requirement. I noted this difference and reflected on the other visits I’ve had where I sat in the room for often more than an hour with no pants on and a sheet draped over my waist.

The appointment was pretty awesome. This doctor knows my chiropractor well and noted that if he wasn’t confident in that chiropractor’s care, he’d refer me to PT before doing anything. But because he knows him and is familiar with the level of care he provides to his patients, he was confident that we are past PT and needed to go in a different direction.

They took x-rays and I didn’t have to wear one of those long blanket things to cover my reproductive system because, well, most of it is not there. The x-rays were mostly normal but showed a couple of areas he wanted to look at more closely. He said we could do a cortisone shot which would definitely help, but if something else is happening in the knee, like a tear in the meniscus that he and my chiropractor hesitantly suspected, it will resurface later in life and could be detrimental in not only my running but even my just walking around. Next suggestion: a MRI.

So I had never had a MRI. I really didn’t even know what it was. I set the appointment for 7:45pm last night and googled to see what, if anything, I needed to do to prepare. It looked pretty standard so I figured I’d show up and go from there.

I won’t go into the details of the MRI, instead I’ll just say that I used lots of deep breathing and mindfulness meditation to get through it. The noise was intense and as I left it felt like my face was melted. Something happened in there that doesn’t feel safe, for real. I'm a believer in medical necessity but am also super comfortable with it being a last resort. I know it's supported by science as safe but for real. Face Melted.

Anyway, it’s done and the results are in and while he did see some "fray" on my meniscus that is a bit concerning, since it was only on one vs. the three angles that would necessitate a scope, we opted for a cortisone shot. Holy crap that hurt! I'm not afraid of shots at all. I have had more shots than I can recall over the years working in the healthcare field. Hep A, TB tests, etc. were just a part of the job. This was crazy and unexpected. I guess I should have googled cortisone shots first. Actually, maybe not! It's definitely a better step than a procedure like a scope that would require anesthesia though.

Thankfully this was all good news. What I didn’t expect in any of this was how this seemingly unrelated event would trigger so many memories for me. For the MRI, I had to remove all of my jewelry and place it in a bag in a locker, I had to do that before my other two cancer related surgeries. While the MRI tech at the hospital was quite friendly and kind, he is also there for his job and I am just another person on his schedule. It’s hard to not feel at least a little dehumanized when someone is hooking you up to stuff that you don’t understand. At least I was wearing pants this time, I thought.

Also, waiting for the results brought up so many feelings. For months and months I waited for results from test after test after test. Each one building upon the last that lead up to the final answer...cancer. I was so glad that this new doctor reached out to me almost first thing this morning to call me in for the results. There was no 3+ weeks waiting to find out what I was dealing with. That was a huge relief.

There is one tiny round spot on my MRI that he said something about but said was likely no big deal. Guess what I told myself it was? Cancer. Once it has been somewhere in your body, and the reality that it doesn't just happen to other people, it is a much more common concern. I'm other people to other people. It happens. It did happen. To me. And while unlikely it is a very clear fact that it can happen again.

My experience related to my cancer is something I thought I moved past. Never in a million years would I imagine that all of this would come flooding back to me after a seemingly unrelated doctor visit for a sore knee.

As with all of my past experiences, this is part of my life now. Each experience related to my cancer journey was traumatic in it's own way. The motion of moving from the gurney onto the surgery table scared and unsure of what was about to happen was extremely similar to the feeling of crawling onto the bed thing outside of the MRI machine not knowing what was about to happen to me. I think I have great coping mechanisms and do not feel like I repress these feelings, yet they jumped up out at me like it all happened yesterday. I remember each detail and can't help but find similarities.

Trigger. It's a real thing, even for people who cope really well with bad shit like I do.

Hospitals are not Hiltons

I am home. I had my surgery. And I am so humbled by this whole experience.

So much happened in the last 4 days. It feels like both the longest and the shortest days of my life. Is that even possible?

This was me at about 10:50am on Monday outside of the hospital.

N and the boys got this shirt for me as a nice way to keep the experience positive and light-hearted. While the photo was taken when I arrived, I waited to share it until after the surgery. I figured I’d want to share it when it was over but some thought this was after the surgery. Heck no! I didn’t wear real clothes until sometime late Tuesday morning and I sure didn’t look this well as I hobbled from the wheelchair to the car!

Anyway, I felt pretty good going into the surgery. It’s funny though, going to a hospital I figured they would just be the experts and know everything that needed to be done and I would just be able to relax and let them take care of everything. Not so much. Hospitals are not Hiltons, after all.

The consent form they handed me was the first clue that I will always have to be my own advocate. The form included the removal of my ovaries, which was not part of the plan. Needless to say, I did not sign that one.

Next, while a very kind nurse was trying to give me an IV, a very impatient phlebotomist came in to take some blood. She actually wanted me to hand over my right arm while the lady was trying to start the IV in my left arm. Settle down lady, can’t you all just get the blood out of the IV line so I am only stuck once?

Theoretically yes, but the woman trying to start the IV couldn’t. She set the IV then the impatient lady got my blood with one stick and was out! Then I noticed my skin burning at the site and a big bubble pooling under the site. That IV was definitely NOT in the right place. The main nurse restarted the IV in my hand with no issues.

At about the same time the IV was finally restarted, a tall doctor who introduced himself as the anesthesiologist came into the room with his rolling computer and began talking really fast and clicking buttons. I looked at him and realized I hadn’t heard one single word he said. So I interrupted him and said “I am going to need you to start over again and slow down so I can understand you.” He stopped clicking and looked at me, then he actually saw me. He answered all of my questions (like would I need a catheter and would I be awake when they took the tube out, yes/no FYI).

The rest is a bit of a blur. I signed the right consent form kissed N goodbye, and as nervous as I was I ept thinking about how happy I was that this was me and not one of the boys or even N. Inside I wanted to run away from it all. I wished the pregnancy test had been positive or that the doctor would have been called away for an emergency. But I also wanted to get this over with. It was a constant dichotomy.

Even though the rest is a blur, I will never forget the way I felt right before I drifted off to sleep. Nicole, the anesthesia nurse, looked me in the eyes each time she spoke to me. I crawled up onto the operating table and scooted to where they needed me. I laid my head back and she put the mask on my face. Then she placed both hands on both sides of my face and said she was right there with me and that they would all take very good care of me. I let out a little cry of relief and fear and thanked her. I closed my eyes, which started to water, took some deep breaths and fell asleep.

Next thing I remember is opening my eyes in the recovery room. My nurse spoke to me and I tried to talk but my throat was sore from the tube. The more I spoke the easier it was. I drifted in and out of sleep and felt really good. I had no pain. My mouth was pretty dry and she gave me ice chips to suck on. Apparently general anesthesia shuts off all body systems including the creation of saliva. It takes awhile for that to return.

It was about 4:30pm when I first woke up and my pain level was never more than a 2. It was very well controlled. Long story short, I finally made it to a hospital room at 8:30pm. Yes, I was in recovery for 4 hours! I should have only been there for 1-1.5 hours. It was actually a very entertaining 4 hours. I’ll have to share that part of the story for another time.

I was so relieved to see N in the hospital room. I was really sad that it was too late for the boys to come to the hospital, but we talked through FaceTime, which was nice. I was also really disappointed that I couldn’t eat anything. I was starving! I was NPO then in clear liquids. Tea never tasted so good!

Not a great photo, but you get the idea.

I didn’t sleep well overnight but enjoyed the peacefulness of the empty room and the TV to myself. I was anxious to get home and was released at about 10am on Tuesday.

I’m slowly gaining strength each day but man, this is SO HARD! I have a whole new understanding of and respect for surgery. I have often said that BBZ’s whole personality changed after the surgery he had at 9 months old, and I believe that even more now. I am an adult and this experience was traumatizing. Don’t get me wrong, I am okay, but this experience was no joke and has been harder than I could have predicted.

I think the worst part for me has been the pain from the gas they injected into my abdomen to make room for the laparoscopic surgery tools. Apparently the gas irritates the diaphragm which is on the same nerves as the shoulders, so the pain radiates from my front to my back and doesn’t seem to be helped by any medication. I was not prepared for that! Tonight was the first time I have really had much relief. Luckily I am just taking ibuprofen now rather than a Tylenol/ibuprofen combo. I tried taking the Tylenol 3 but it didn't seem to be any different and I hate taking prescription medications.

As should be expected, I am having a hard time with the lack of activity. I am so used to being crazy active with 13k+ steps daily and this drastic reduction seems like a shock to my body. I am getting up and moving around, but I get tired really quickly and have to sit back down.

The good news is I am feeling stronger each day! I am just not good at taking it easy. I am trying though. I don’t really have a choice. My mom and dad have come over to keep me company and make sure we are all eating well, so many friends have reached out and I have received some really thoughtful care packages with goodies to enjoy post surgery. I’m working on word puzzles and binge watching Netflix and trying to remind myself that I will be able to run again sometime soon-ish. I walked around the little circle outside a couple of times, but I get light headed and I can’t go alone and it kind of freaks me out.

I’m trying to listen to my body and not think about my fitness, but it sure is hard to turn off the part of my mind that is so focused on finding health through movement and activity. I am trying to focus that same health-seeking mindset on resting and allowing my body the time it needs to heal but man, it is hard!

I’m on strict no driving orders until next week and I see why. My abdomen is sore and my reflexes are a bit delayed. Hopefully all of that will be back and in order for Monday when N travels again.

Thanks to everyone who has helped so far with thoughts, prayers, positivity, cards, messages and stuff to keep me occupied. I genuinely appreciate it all.

And I really, REALLY can’t wait to run again. I should probably focus on being able to walk around the block first.