I was scheduled for surgery today. I blogged all about it, I posted on Facebook, I really built up some excitement. I LET myself get excited. I got my hopes up. And it wasn’t to be.
I was informed late last week by Dr. Avery that I had a UTI, and was put on antibiotics that day. This would explain all the bladder trouble I was having. I had been blaming it on MS. Sorry, MS. It wasn’t you, after all. It’s just strange because I had lots of UTIs as a child and this was nothing like them. I had zero pain. But, I was having irritating urgency and that went away the second day on antibiotics.
So, I wasn’t really worried about it affecting the surgery. I had told the woman giving me my surgery instructions about the infection and the antibiotics, and she said to just make sure to take it the day of the surgery. To keep fighting the infection.
That should have been my clue, my warning that this may not happen.
Only this morning I was still very excited. I made all my preparations the night before, so this morning I was ready to go. The drive there was filled with text messages from well-wishing friends and family, and I knew plenty more were praying for me. Check-in at the hospital went smoothly, and I changed into my gown, gave them a urine sample, got plugged into an IV, talked to the anesthesiologist and then my surgeon.
Then we waited. At this point we were close to two hours into the pre-op process and I was still feeling okay. I wasn’t looking forward to the recovery process after, but you could say I was ready to get this done.
And then it all fell apart. The nurse (the same one I had last year who asked me if I missed hearing) told me I was still showing signs of an infection, and they wanted me to give another sample just in case. This is the point I started worrying, though we both know worrying does nothing. Mike kept telling me it would be okay. I tried to go along with that sentiment, but it’s hard. After about 20 minutes my surgeon walked in with the bad news. I would not be having surgery today.
It’s not entirely bad news. I’ll still have the surgery, but they want to be safe. If I were to have it, there is a small possibility the infection would spread, and if the infection ended up in my skull, it would mean having to take the implant out, clear the infection (which may or may not be an easy process), then re-implant. The re-implant process didn’t even sound like a sure thing. He said it was a small risk, but it has happened before, and the aftermath was a nightmare. Lots of trips back to the hospital and lots more surgeries. I wanted the surgery today, but I’m only trying to do this one more time. Remember, I told Mike after the first implant that I did not want to do this again. Surgery is risky and painful and scary, but this second implant will be worth it. Still, I only want one surgery. It’s better to be safe, than sorry.
Darn that nurse taking out my IV. She was so focused on explaining to me why “better safe than sorry” was a good rule (as if I were a child needing further explanation) that she was not focused on being careful while removing the needle. OUCH.
I did cry at the hospital, but I was pretty much done when we got in the car to go home. I was just so disappointed. I felt silly for getting my hopes up so high, only to be let down. But Mike reminded me that none of this was my fault, none of it was in my control, and all of it is a minor inconvenience in comparison to what could have happened had they not checked for the infection.
It will be okay. I will still have the surgery, and hopefully soon. Today we ate, we shopped, and I took a wicked nap. All in my “surgery outfit”, bright green Crocs and all.