Inching ever closer...

I very much dislike that I am missing so many days here on my rememberer.  But I am rather overwhelmed by all thoughts pacemaker.  SIGH.

I know.  I just know that there will be at least some good—provided the implantation is successful—to having a pacemaker.  Take early Monday morning.  After I posted my desperate post, the fluttering and flip-flopping got ever so much worse and I could barely catch my breath.  With my whole being I, Myrtle, actually wanted to be at a hospital.  If my cardiologist was not on a mission trip to Honduras this week, I am fairly certain I would have gone.  I was rather frightened and mostly just clutched Amos.

It was a rough night.
I am hoping the pacemaker will bring fewer rough heart moments.
Freedom, really, from the theophylline.

However.  However, my sleeping mind is obviously most certain that I am going to die during the surgery.  That is all I dream about.  Whenever I close my eyes.  Every bloody night.  SIGH.

My worry is so deep that my face has exploded with blemishes.  Frankly, I believe one should not have blemishes at 48.  And I most particularly believe that you should not have stress blemishes.  I mean, the whole world can see how I am doing just by one glance at my face.  When I was younger, this was never a problem.  SIGH.

Today, I had the umpteenth call about the surgery, verifying once again that I am neither a truck driver, a hunter, a welder, or one who works on large engines.  I also heard, again, about having the leads screwed into my heart muscle.  Oh, how I wish I could stop hearing that description.  I have never been a fan of the idea of a pacemaker, of a machine in a body, and now here I am getting one.  In just seven days.  GULP.

Yesterday was counseling.  It was rough, really, really, really rough.  Yet it was also ... intriguing.  I got a glimpse, I think, of possibility and, for once, I was not all that scared.  However, I am absolutely despairing over the notion that I could learn to change thoughts that I have had my entire life.  Things I learned wrongly at the hand of pedophiles and yet still believe, even knowing the source, because they make sense ... they fit my life.

While I am still rather distressed over the thought of the pacemaker implantation, I was blessed to have Michelle (author of Living with Bob blog) repost an old blog to her Facebook page that was on scars, one of which is from her pacemaker.  She linked in that post to one about getting her pacemaker.  And when I commented on the FB post, Michelle sent me a link to a third post about her pacemaker that was a Q&A version.  In the comment exchange, another woman with dysautonomia who has a pacemaker mentioned that she was working on a draft of a blog entry about it.  She sent me the draft and then exchanged emails with me regarding further questions (and some of my fears).  Between Michelle and Sarah, I finally have a fairly good idea of how the recovery might go for me, but, more importantly, how the first night or two might go in the hospital.

For instance, I learned that I will need to remain laying down for four hours after the surgery.  That means I will not be able to use the bathroom during that period.  That means using bedpans.  Learning about that ahead of time helps me to gird my loins for that.  Sarah also mentioned that I should bring a roll of toilet paper for that time so I can have something soft and something that I do not have to ask for if need be.  I thought that was a good idea.

Both also wrote about pain.

One way I describe dysautonomia is a malfunction of the nervous system.  But another way to explain it is that dysautonomia causes an exaggerated/disproportionate response in your body.  Sarah specifically wrote about that with regard to pain.  I was reading her words and practically screaming:  YES!  Knowing that both women were up all night, unable to find any medication to touch their pain helped me to be ready for pain myself.  I have a high pain tolerance, so I think that I can bear the first night, now that I know what to expect, now that I know what could be.  And I will not be so desperate for relief and sleep if I go into the experience not expecting rest.  Then, if I can rest that first night, I will be doubly blessed.

I was so very thankful for both women, Monday, and continue to be.  I am thankful, too, because I see the happenstance of a repost as provision from God for what I needed.

My friend Mary told me that pregnant women are oft encouraged to pack/repack their hospital bags so that they can feel better prepared for going to give birth.  I thought that sounded like a good idea, but I did not realize how much it would help me to get started on that process.

I have three duffle bags that could be termed "overnight" bags, one of which perhaps a "weekender."  That one is GREEN and would be my first choice, but I think it will be heavy (for surely I would fill it up) and a bit too much for Becky to carry, since she will also have my pillow and my weighted blanket!

Right now, I am practicing packing with the medium-sized duffle bag.  I have pajamas and socks and such packed and have been pondering, as my counselor encouraged, what I might bring that would help me to feel safe, irregardless of what others might think.

I decided that I wanted to take my ancient GREEN backpack for my personal and comfort things.  Again, I have three options, two of which are GREEN.  But the GREEN one from the trip to Italy would be a bit large and the grey computer one is so very impersonal.  For a while, I panicked because I could not find my ancient GREEN backpack, the one that I carried throughout all my college degrees.  However, I finally remember that I keep it on the back of my wheelchair.  Fetching it was a hard moment, for I realized that I have not been out, save for Becky taking me on errands that one day) in well over a year.

Time has flown.
And I am alone.
The backpack was very, very, very dusty.

Mary has also encouraged me to take my laptop. I thought that I would not want it.  Or, more honestly, I thought that I shouldn't want to take my laptop.  But now I feel as if I could ... without feeling burdensome about it.

So far, I have thought that I would have my phone (with the special playlist), headphones, iPad mini, and laptop, along with granola bars, some of my roasted seeds, the balsam scented greenery from the evergreen tree in the back yard, the lavender/peppermint essential oil, the amazing lotion that I tracked down from an airplane sample to Canada (orange bergamot, lavender, and honey scented), and a deck of cards for solitaire, even though I can play it on my phone so that I will start moving my shoulder immediately (both Michelle and Sarah warned me about frozen shoulder that can happen after pacemaker surgery).

I wish that I could bring my candles.
I wish that I could bring my heating pad.
I wish that I could bring Amos.

I have also been slowly taking care of things that I realized I would not be able to do after the surgery.  Timely things, such as lopping down the rose bushes and pruning the honeysuckle, the burning bushes, and the forsythia.  I did not do the work all at once, but it is done.  The pump from the water fountain is clean and dry and stored in the basement.  I also got all my specialists paperwork in order and organized the 2016 Medicare books that came last month.  Those could have waited, but I wanted to review the changes once more because of all the budget shifting I will need to do.

In part because of the ginormous-to-me cost of getting a pacemaker ... in part because I bought headphones so that I could have my playlist at the hospital and GREEN compression stockings so that I could take a bit of courage into the surgery.  With the plane ticket and those "bolstering" expenses, the surgery cost is a bit overwhelming.  Frankly, one of my plans is to only buy milk for my "groceries" in December until my guests arrive at the end of the month.

They would all be happy eating out every night.  I wanted ... want to cook for them.  Who knows, now, what I will be like 4 weeks out from having wires screwed into my heart muscle! 

I still need to polish the silver and make the two other dishes I have ingredients for in the next seven days.  I need prescriptions, especially a refill of the hormones with my name attached to the blister pack, not the case.  I need to do laundry and bath Amos and change the bedding.  And I really, really, really need to vacuum.  My dust bunnies have dust bunnies.  SIGH.

Seven days.
Inching ever closer....