Author: sindypiper

Do I believe in fate/ destiny?

I do to an extend believe in fate/ destiny. We are all dealt a hand of cards in life and it is how we play the cards that determines our fate.

I myself was dealt a particularly difficult hand of cards. I was born with a heart defect. This you could argue was my destiny. For whatever reason. You could argue I have “bad karma” or whatever. It has had a detrimental effect on relationships.

If you also look into numerology I was also born on the 13th which is deemed very unlucky.

So does our specific date and time of birth distinguish our destiny or is it more biological and physical?

Something determines who we are and why we are born into a specific body. I’ve often felt reincarnation is the best way to describe this. We have good karma we go up in the game and bad karma we go down.

I often thought about this is great depth. Were my circumstances in life “pre destined”? Could I have done anything to improve my circumstances and life chances? I doubt it.

Maybe if I had different letters in my name i would have been assigned to a different form at school and met different people.

I would still probably have been bullied for my disadvantage. What i can control is my fate and how I work things to my advantage. I can transmute my pain into power.

The Day of the Operation

Part 1

After my blissful sleep at the hospital I went and had my shower with the strange solution. I think I was still in a daze. I had many doctors again visit me in the morning. My surgeon came to visit me around 11am. He was all scrubbed up in his surgeon gear. I asked him what time likely the operation would commence, as I though it was scheduled for about 6pm. He told me they wanted to get started early and I would probably get going around 12:00pm.

Another Russian doctor came to discuss the operation also. She had paperwork on her screen that I had to sign. I remember there being an option about the operation being filmed for future reference. She just ticked this box for me without asking!

There were constantly doing ECG’s and bloods at this times. The nurses came to put my valuables in an envelope. I was a bit annoyed that I didn’t get a locker to myself. My suitcase had been taken away at the beginning.

I think around this time I was assigned my own nurse. She had the same name as me which I took to be a lucky sign. She was nice and we were chatting away.Then all of a sudden they came to get me for the operation. As they started to wheel me down one of the nurses said to another one ‘ we need to sort out the bra for after’. They then muttered something about a 40D. The.se are special post surgery bras that fasten at the front.

As I was wheeled down to theatre I think I said a few Hail Marys to keep my mother happy. They parked me outside the theatre. I remember there was an array of Philippine nurses who I have to say were all amazing. At this point a rather stern Phillipino nurse came out and looked at me and said ‘right who have we got here then’. They then transferred me to another operating table and wheeled me into the operating theatre.

To be honest a lot of people would be terrified at this point but i had been here so many times before it didn’t seem such a big deal. I had already had surgery as a young child (which i don’t remember) and I had had the TOE and groin procedure 2 years before.

My line in my left arm had been set up. I gazed up and saw the Japanese anaesthetist. I think he said he name was Tomokoto or something. They both introduced themselves. That was that…the lights went out and i don’t recall a thing.

Motivation

Yesterday i tried to do some bits on the computer but i literally feel braindead sometimes. This is brainfog on a different level. I also feel like my eyesight has significantly deteriorated since I had the operation. I must get this checked.The scar is quite itchy.

I try day to day to pick up the pieces of my life. This is good therapy for me. Pardon me if my writing seems confused. I am going to go right back to the start to journal what I remember.

I brought far too much to the hospital. I remember thinking “God, most people get to go to the hospital to have a baby. At least they get a prize at the end. What will i get.. a new scar”.

My elderly parents dropped me to the hospital where we had lunch. I felt quite guilty in a way to put this burden upon them. Having not being in a relationship at the time. I brought a suitcase. We then went up to the ward to check in. I was given a bracelet and shown to my bed. I don’t think there were many women around at that point. My parents probably stayed about another 20 minutes. We said our goodbyes. It was at this point that it began to get real.

It was just me on the ward at that point. There was a girl to the left of me with her mother. She was talking to doctors and I was eavesdropping. From what I could make out she was having a gallbladder procedure. I remember the doctor explaining this was very painful. She was also having something done to her heart.

A couple of nurses came here and there to check on me. They told me i would have my last meal at 6pm and i was to not eat from that point until the operation. I wondered around the hospital a bit to get my bearings. I watched as the ward slowly filled up.

A couple of different doctors came to visit. There was so many of the it was hard to keep track. I tried to get comfortable and get used to where everything was.

I specifically remember the anaesthetist paying me a visit around this time. He was a very serious Japanese guy. He kind of sobered me up and brought me to the reality of what was about to occur. He said to me it was really important that I get a good night sleep, the night before the operation, otherwise it is not good if I was “stressed” in the operation. This freaked me out somewhat. I shook his hand and he said “don’t worry we will take good care of you”.

After this I think I had a bit of a cry. It was all getting a bit much. I spoke to the nurse about getting a sleeping tablet for later. She said she would ask doctor. I also had a nurse come and give me this solution. She said I was to wash myself with it that night, including my hair and I was also to wash myself again in the morning. An impending sense of doom began to arise within me.

I had my dinner around 6. I remember being pleasantly surprised by it. Later in the evening they moved me to another ward. This ward was full of ladies and some that that had just come from surgery. I remember directly across from me there was an Indian lady. She had a tube up her nose and looked to be in a lot of pain. She had a morphine button which she kept pressing. I remember the staff came and a placed a board under her to take an x-ray. I did try to talk to her but I don’t think her English was that great . She mentioned something about a valve.

To the left of my bed was an elderly English lady. She introduced herself and said she had heart failure. She had a scar where she had a procedure. I think it was something to do with her aorta.

I tried to settle but it was quite a weird and unsettling experience. I was watching my programmes on my phone and tried to do some reading. I went and had my shower and then later the nurse came with my sleeping tablet. I’m glad it wasn’t temazepam. It was a mild sleeping tablet. I drifted off into a lovely sleep but I was still awoken throughout the night for the nurse to do their checks.

3 Months Post Surgery

So..wow, it will officially be 3 months since my surgery for ASD correction via open heart surgery and what an experience and a half. Initially I wanted to write a diary of the experience day by day but that did not turn out to be practical.

I am now going to work with the notes I have made and what I can remember. It has been so hard to even pick up my laptop but today I made a massive effort.

The main thing I am fighting atm seems to be the massive depression that I seem to have slipped into. Apparently it is a normal thing post surgery. I felt so motivated before surgery and was in the middle of a course. I just do not have any motivation or willpower at the moment.

I was told by my surgeon that it could take up to a year to recover psychologically from surgery. I just feel like i am drifting along in a never-ending laziness induced psychosis of never ending Netflix.

For the first month after surgery I just slept and slept and slept. After 2 weeks at home I went out for my first walk which was exhausting. Then this like massive depression kicked in. Almost like your brain/ body has suddenly processed the massive trauma it has experienced. I would describe it like feeling like you have been “hit by a train”. Then looking in the mirror constantly trying to accept/ adjust to your new friend. Your new scar.

When people said “oh your personality might change after surgery” i thought oh no, not me, I am really strong and really resilient. I will bounce back to my normal self in no time. I feel like i have died and this new person has taken over my body. I feel like a shell of my former self. I feel vulnerable, isolated, wary, introverted. Pump head is a real thing.

Snowy day and 21st Operation Day

Friday 21st

So my operation was scheduled for last Friday but it was cancelled. It has now been scheduled for 21st November. I have to phone the hospital to confirm they have a bed for me then I am to arrive at the hospital tomorrow for 12:30pm.

I have my bags packed including a new pair of fluffy crocs. I really hope the hospital is not freezing cold as it was 2 years ago around this time. It’s Freezing when they wheel you around the corridors and back and forth from operating theatre.

I am trying not to think about it too much and just get on with it. From what I am aware the ‘Royal Brompton’ is not one of those hospitals bustling with activity like say ‘The Chelsea and Westminster’. I am hoping I will be ‘out of it’ for the first week and don’t remember most of the trauma I am about to go through.

I just want to get the operation out of the way so I can start the New Year afresh. I feel I am putting a lot of pressure onto my elderly parents. I feel guilty about this. It is rather depressing going into hospital around Christmas but at least I will be back home for Christmas.

Finally a date!

Hello,

Sorry I haven’t been around in a while. I have been busy. I have finally received a date for my surgery which will be the 14th November. I will be admitted to the hospital on the 13th November . I think this is to draw blood and more tests. The thought of hanging about in a hospital doesn’t exactly thrill me, but in a way it is nice to know that the ball is finally rolling.

I am trying not to think about it too much as I am scared. They said I will probably be about a week in the hospital, if all goes to plan. I will be staying at my parents afterwards. I feel guilty about this as they are elderly. They don’t really need the stress or the burden of me.

I’m trying to be prepared. I have my button up shirts to wear, earplugs a facemask and new crocs. I am considering I will probably be quite bored in the hospital so I am bringing some books.

Not much else to say really. It could still get cancelled. I am grieving my old body and waiting for my new one.

Pre Op Assessment

Today I received a pre op assessment document. It asked me a few strange questions like:

What is your neck circumference?

Do you snore?

Can you urinate correctly?

Who is your next of kin and will be picking you up?

Getting very real now. I try to distract myself from thinking about it all day, otherwise i get very depressed. I reckon the operation will be scheduled around October/November. An operation like this around Christmas would be really depressing. I already hate Christmas and the societal pressures it puts upon us.

Control Freak

It’s difficult when you have been a control freak your whole life to then hand that control over to others.

Even when I had my TOE and catheter procedure and was coming around from my anesthetic, it was a fight to get me to obey the medical team. The natural reaction to try to fight someone off who is trying to cut you open.

Sometimes I feel like I’m waiting to be “hung, drawn, and quartered”. I can relate to how they must have felt. The impending doom.

I have always been so independent. I hate putting myself in the hands of medical professionals. I have always been the one helping others. I hate leaning and relying on others. I have always been so stubborn. I will have to give up control, which terrifies me.

I bought a pyjama set for the hospital just in case i get called up. It has green vertical stripes and is buttoned down. Button-down shirts are supposed to be the most comfortable for open-heart surgery.

Why do I have to deal with this?

Recently, I have been contacted by an old friend who wants to date me, but in the cruel ironic twist that is life I have had to distance myself because it’s just wrong timing and realistically, what lad wants to date a partner having open heart surgery?

These are the kind of conversations I have to go through in my head. It’s bad enough having to deal with my first scar in relationships, but that scar has had almost 40 years to heal, and it’s not that bad. After 40 years, that scar is not red and raw, it is the same colour as my flesh.

I often liked my scar as it made me unique and I often thought it looked like a spear. I often fantasized that I was some mystical warrior. My scar is like my identity, like an old friend, and now they are going to take that old friend away and give me a new imposter.

Now I have to start again with the scar trauma, and it is not an easy thing to deal with, especially with immature/ shallow men. Maybe I should either give up up on men and devote my life to animals or become a lesbian.

Some might say if he doesn’t support you, then he’s not worth it, but I just don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I constantly feel like I am bringing people down, and I can’t stand the pity and how people treat me differently after they find out. I also can’t be bothered with setting myself up for rejection. So i reject them first, and then they wonder why I cut people off and why I am so weird. It is just easier this way.

Then i think what is the point in anything then? Is there a point in having this operation at all if I’m just going to be Frankenstein afterwards?