Just under 7 months ago, I walked down the aisle and took my vows when I wed my husband, Chance. Before our ceremony, I was aware of his medical conditions and I went in full throttle anyway (we had only known each other about 10 months by that time). I was, and am, in love, and so I repeated the vows as I was instructed. Perhaps, at the time, I didn't realize the true meaning.
Just 4 months after our wedding, Chance was hospitalized for a week due to severe pain caused by his Crohn's disease. I was out of work two weeks, which I didn't mind at all mostly because I liked having the time off, but also, and obviously, because I wanted to be by his side. Being a new wife, I wanted to support. Being Type A and a bit OCD, I wanted to have some control.
I had been to one or two doctor's visits with Chance prior to him being hospitalized, and I didn't agree with some of what he'd been told, "Diet doesn't matter," so I became more involved with his diagnosis and treatment. Although the doctors wanted to keep him on his medication (and he has A LOT of it), they did start to speak more about diet and they did (when we sought multiple opinions) start to open up to acupuncture and other holistic approaches.
After seeing two specialists, we were all of the same opinion that surgery was the only option and that we'd rather schedule something than have an emergency procedure. We had one more ER visit which was the same way we ended up hospitalized in the first place, but after being discharged from emergency care in May, we had a rather "normal" life for the remainder of that month and also most of June, but Chance was in constant pain, eating like a bird, and extremely fatigued. Between April and June, he lost a total of 35 pounds. I feel like I found some of that weight, because like many, I'm a stress eater! Well, that's not entirely true...I'm an eater in general.
Sometime in May, we met with a gastroenterologist at MUSC and I was pleased just looking at him...he was Indian. As stereotypical as that is, I was happy to see a man who I thought might have an open mind to alternative approaches. A month or so later we met the surgeon, a very attractive Ecuadorian in his mid 40s. I liked him from the start for his straightforward, tell you like it is, demeanor (and the fact that he was a foreign cutie). He also happened to be a kick ass surgeon (sorry for the language), and after coming out of the 2 turned 5 1/2 hour surgery, he said in his thick accent, "I was going to do it right. I wasn't coming out unless I was happy."
Back up to the week prior to surgery, and Chance was feeling weaker than ever. He had to consume a protein drink three times a day for the 8 days leading up, and was allowed to eat a normal diet otherwise, but he wasn't taking more than a few bites each meal and he was hurting much of the time. We went into surgery early on Monday morning, July 3rd, pretty hopeful. He was ready for the procedure and to get back to feeling better. I was ready for him to be on his feet so we could do things again. For the past several months, he'd not wanted to go out or even take walks with the dog because of his poor health. He felt guilty and I was sad, for multiple reasons. My inability to travel this summer was making it worse, because like a drug addict, I fiend for international trips. We knew that surgery wouldn't be easy, but we were excited to put it behind us so we could move on with our life, the life of a newly married couple, the life of two people who would like to make a baby. Chance really wants a child, and I do to, but I kept saying I couldn't take care of both, that I'd need him better before we started a family. I think that probably made him feel sad too, actually, I know it did.
During the procedure on Monday morning, Chance's mother, father, sister and I sat waiting, and waiting. My sister and brother-in-law came later to also wait. We had only heard from the nurse once to say that they were "still in there," but with little other updates. I had posted on Facebook when we arrived, and a friend from high school wrote me to say she would be one of the recovery nurses, so feeling extremely blessed by that, I reached out to her once or twice during the procedure to see if she knew anything. She was so sweet and came to tell us she had not heard anything, but that all was well on her end (which was good news because she'd not been given any further instructions for his recovery). When he finally came out and the doctor called us back, Chance's family and I went to a private room to hear the doctor's report. Much as I expected, the surgeon bluntly said to us, "That was bad." I took it well as I'd been praying all morning and I sort of expected to hear that it wasn't an easy procedure, but Chance's mom got really upset. She either hadn't realized the severity of it all yet, was in a bit of shock when the doctor "told it like it was," or was caught off guard as the mother of the patient. No matter, she was very shaken.
I went back to recovery and stayed with Chance, feeding him ice chips, ensuring him surgery was over (he kept asking when he was going in) and trying to determine the state of his emotional capacity. Surgery was more difficult than expected and so there were some things done that Chance nor I were anticipating. From the moment he came out, I wondered if I should schedule the pastor, or a therapist, to speak with him. Luckily, our pastor is amazing and he'd already been to the hospital to pray with us while Chance was in surgery, so I knew if I needed him again, I could get him quickly.
When we later got up to Chance's suite (ha), we were happy for a corner room which had windows on two walls and gave us a view of the harbor, even if you had to look past the construction and cranes. He rested pretty well that first afternoon, shocked it was as late as it was, and I spent the night with him after the rest of the family went home.
Tuesday morning, the doctors all came in really early to check on Chance's recovery. He had slept as soundly as one can with all the vitals being constantly checked. The surgeon came in to chat and drew us pictures of what he'd done the previous day. I, being a visual learner, was ever so grateful. He explained his challenges during surgery, and why it took so long. We had known that Chance had a lot of scaring and an abscess. We'd already been told he had a complicated case. We had seen damage on an MRI, but the doctor still didn't realize the extent of the trouble. When he got in, he had to make some significant decisions. He attempted to complete his tasks laparoscopically, but that failed because he found that the colon on the right side of the body had a fistula, causing a block. He tried to go around it, but found another issue, so he decided he would have to cut, and cut he did. He could have removed the inflamed portions of Chance's colon and then waited to do another surgery, or, he could take out the damaged bits, reattach the good portions, and allow them to heal with an aide. He chose the latter because he wanted to be as least invasive as possible. That being said, Chance came out of surgery not only with an IV, but with three attachments connected to and jutting out of his abdomen, none of which looked comfortable and all of which are still remaining as we round out our first week here.
On a positive note, for the 4th of July, we watched fireworks both from Mt. Pleasant and James Island right from his hospital room, and went to sleep later that evening knowing that the surgery was a success, even if difficult, and that Chance was doing well.
When you consider the amount of colon removed on Monday, the pain he was in before, the pain he's been in all week since, and the fact that we are still unsure when Chance will get to go home, you begin to wonder how much more he can take, yet, you have faith that all will be better because even Tuesday, Chance said he had no more "Crohn's pain," and that all of his discomfort now was due to the surgery itself. For the time being, he's on a liquid diet after trying solids for a few days. This is because we found that his stomach is not yet fully awake, meaning he can't digest anything. He's had nausea and vomiting throughout the week and is trying to keep down gatorade, jello and popsicles. His feasting has been on jolly ranchers and life savers as the doctors wanted him to have hard candy to suck on to help get his GI track working. When he is able to eat solids again, his only dietary restriction is to eat low fiber. That means no raw vegetables and little fruit. He can have no nuts and nothing with seeds. He can't have the skin or peel of anything. We will be testing out other items to see if we need to restrict dairy all together, which is quite possible, or gluten, or anything else. I'm willing to do whatever is needed, and perhaps the weight will come back off of me (and if not, I'll finish my cleanse to ensure it does).
We've had some scary moments this week, some funny ones, some down right depressing ones, and some full of hope and excitement for the future. Despite the difficultly of his surgery (Dr. George said Chance was one of his top 10 most complicated cases) we are told he is recovering well. He has a long road ahead as we will be taking home some of his "friends," aka attachments, and we will be back in surgery in 8 or so weeks. After that, we are hopeful that he'll be a healthy, active 35 year old male.
It's not been the easiest of weeks on either of us. Chance has his emotions, but keeps them private much of the time. I have mine, and wear my heart on my sleeve. There's nothing bottled up in this body and yesterday afternoon, when I was pacing around the back yard and fussing into the phone, my neighbor came over to check on me. I told her I knew I should have put up a privacy fence, but in truth, I was so happy to have someone to speak with at that moment. Come to find out, she's had to "deal with" a similar situation and so her empathy and first hand understanding was unbelievably consoling.
Monday through Thursday, I was strong and totally felt fine, but as exhaustion set in and answers seemed few and far between, my emotions got the best of me. I've done a lot of crying at home, or in the car, and have questioned a lot of things. I tell Chance all the time that he and I are very different when it comes to medical care. I come from a family that is very involved...that wants to speak to doctors and that questions each and every medical decision made. We are curious, and we want to know what we can do to help, whether we are the patient or the family member. When I would try to gently suggest things to Chance this week, I felt as if he was snappy with me and didn't want my involvement. He felt as if I was being condescending and rude. That is often the case because I am abrasive, and I admit that, but I didn't intend for him to feel that way, so we've tried to have more conversations the last few days, but I will tell you truthfully, it's been challenge. I know there are stages of grief, but there must also be stages for post op emotion, and I intend to do research to find them.
As always, I continue to pray for his strength and while doing so, my patience and release of anger for situations beyond my control. I know who IS in control, I have faith it's all unfolding as it should be, and despite my moments of weakness this week, I am trusting the Lord and His plan. This morning I found a lovely reminder, which I shared with Chance, and which I will share an excerpt with you now...
All of Heaven loves you and is sending you extra protection in your time of need. You will see that when you give your concerns to Heaven, answers and miracles will appear. Doubt and fear block you, but faith in God and Heaven will lift these blocks. Simply, if you are overwhelmed with concerns, let them go. Even if you don't feel confident yet, God is one hundred percent confident about you. Release your fears and trust in God.
