Lights... And... Life...

WellI, I think Stella is even more excited than I am… 

I smile.

She says now “she can hug me on both sides…”

This was in response to - are you excited to have your port removed?

I was staring at the bright white lights of the surgery room - in and out of time. 

Well, she laughed - in a few days anyway. You’ll be sore for a bit.

Oh yeah.. hahaha. 

I came back to the conversation. Well, a few more days after a year isn’t too long to wait. 

We’ll have you ready to go soon, my nurse explained. Let’s just go over a few things. 

I confirmed my name, date of birth and allergies for maybe the 100th time. That’s okay - better safe than sorry. 

Okay she said, now we are just going to get you wrapped up and put these cold stickers on you - 

Un hun. Sounds good, I chirped. 

Only in my mind, I was wondering… as they wrapped my arms up, strapped my body to the table, and began to create a mountain tent of blue surgery towels… is it strange how comfortable I am? 

I felt at home. Like it was norm. 

Send me to a school event, or anything social, and I am totally out of my element. 

How much “me” do they want, how much can they tolerate? What is an acceptable amount of “me-ness”?

And not that I have had a ton of operations, just, enough - 

Enough to feel like I get it. I know what’s expected, and I’m good at it. 

Except I was awake for this surgery.

Anyway.

I had a nurse at my feet - I could feel her moving about, but I could not see anything due to the massive tent. 

My doctor was at my left shoulder - I could smell what I think was some cauterization of my skin. She also had a nurse assistant handing her whatever she called out for… 

I also had a nurse at my head, narrating the surgery, as my doctor pulled on the port to move it through - without it snapping. 

She had my neck prepped for another incision just in case - but she didn’t need it. I have a scar on my neck from my childhood central line - which did snap. 

I had yet another nurse on my right, looking at vitals - I’m thinking. She also rubbed my arm once in a while and just checked in with me.

It was actually one lovely conversation - but somehow those white walls and white lights make the boundaries much clearer - I didn’t have any social anxiety. 

Though I did wonder, after the fact, if you are supposed to talk during surgery???? Oh well. 

It also doesn’t turn mom brain off. 

At one point I was hoping Stella got 100 on her spelling pre-test so she could get  the challenge words that she wants.

I was also praying she would be kind to my sister who was picking her up from school.

And I was feeling anxious about her ballet test the following day- for which she missed the review due to a family visit…

But then I looked at the white lights again…

And I so appreciated the reverence of surgery.

Because really, at that moment, it was just my surgeon, my team, myself and God.

And yes, it’s a surgery you could laugh at, you could scoff at it - just a port removal.

But that’s not the point. 

They still treated the surgery, and myself, with a reverence - the operating room is still sacred - regardless of its purpose.

I still had to wear the garments, the lovely surgery cap, they still ran all the procedures.

The rituals and the values are what were highlighted for me. 

I was enough, the surgery was enough, 

Oh she said, as she began to close up, tell your daughter I said she can hug you “on both sides” in just a few days. 

I smiled. You know, like that REAL smile. 

Thank you, I said, and all the other mom worries went away. 

Amen.