modify_evolution
Day 48- Strong
Casey had her lung surgery today. It was a thoracoscopy, which is good. It was done in an hour, and her surgeon told me that it went really well, he got all the nodules out, and that she had a chest tube (the lung almost always deflates during lung surgery).
After surgery, she's put into the recovery room until she's fully awake and her pain is at least starting to be under control. Patients can have a visitor come back; she's always asked for me. The nurse came out to get me, and I was looking at the beds to find Casey, and I saw this patient with like, 6 people crowded around the bed. One was holding an oxygen mask over their face (I couldn't tell gender or age), and they had a towel over their head. Someone was on the phone. I felt so bad for that person and their family, and was selfishly glad I wasn't that patient's family member coming back. How awful would it be to see your loved one like that? It was Casey.
She was awake, but her pain was completely uncontrolled. The nurse said that a chest tube feels like a cheese grater in your lung. It hurt to breathe, and she was hyperventilating. She was in too much pain to cry, and she was trying so hard not to move, and couldn't even press her button for more morphine once they got it hooked up (I got permission to press it for her until she could move).
I hate seeing her in pain. I hate when I can't fix whatever is hurting her, emotionally or physically. She is more than my sister, or my best friend. In the most non-incestuous way possible, she is my soul mate. I don't see her as a different person than me. Seeing her like that was awful. I was trying to distract her, by doing that "picture yourself in your happy place" shit, and it turned into "You're okay, it's okay, you're not in pain, it's okay."
That was the closest I've come to breaking down in front of her. I know she wouldn't mind if I did, but that wasn't the time. She had blood on her teeth, and her throat hurt from the breathing tube, and she had a tube sticking into her lung. My other half was in so much pain she couldn't breathe, and I couldn't do anything to make it better.
When she had her shoulder biopsy, she was in pain. But it wasn't like this. Why did she get cancer? Why didn't I? Why can't I take it for her? I feel so useless. I know it helps that I was there, and the nurses said I did an amazing job for her, but I couldn't fix it. And I think it finally fully hit me what the amputation will mean. I've been putting off thinking about it; we've been living day-to-day. But what the fuck am I going to do when she comes out of surgery, and I walk back, and her shape under the blanket is different? How am I going to keep it together for her?
She is the most important thing in my world, and always has been. And I hate that I can't make this better for her, that I don't have the words to reassure and comfort her when it really matters.
Day 48- Strong
Casey had her lung surgery today. It was a thoracoscopy, which is good. It was done in an hour, and her surgeon told me that it went really well, he got all the nodules out, and that she had a chest tube (the lung almost always deflates during lung surgery).
After surgery, she's put into the recovery room until she's fully awake and her pain is at least starting to be under control. Patients can have a visitor come back; she's always asked for me. The nurse came out to get me, and I was looking at the beds to find Casey, and I saw this patient with like, 6 people crowded around the bed. One was holding an oxygen mask over their face (I couldn't tell gender or age), and they had a towel over their head. Someone was on the phone. I felt so bad for that person and their family, and was selfishly glad I wasn't that patient's family member coming back. How awful would it be to see your loved one like that? It was Casey.
She was awake, but her pain was completely uncontrolled. The nurse said that a chest tube feels like a cheese grater in your lung. It hurt to breathe, and she was hyperventilating. She was in too much pain to cry, and she was trying so hard not to move, and couldn't even press her button for more morphine once they got it hooked up (I got permission to press it for her until she could move).
I hate seeing her in pain. I hate when I can't fix whatever is hurting her, emotionally or physically. She is more than my sister, or my best friend. In the most non-incestuous way possible, she is my soul mate. I don't see her as a different person than me. Seeing her like that was awful. I was trying to distract her, by doing that "picture yourself in your happy place" shit, and it turned into "You're okay, it's okay, you're not in pain, it's okay."
That was the closest I've come to breaking down in front of her. I know she wouldn't mind if I did, but that wasn't the time. She had blood on her teeth, and her throat hurt from the breathing tube, and she had a tube sticking into her lung. My other half was in so much pain she couldn't breathe, and I couldn't do anything to make it better.
When she had her shoulder biopsy, she was in pain. But it wasn't like this. Why did she get cancer? Why didn't I? Why can't I take it for her? I feel so useless. I know it helps that I was there, and the nurses said I did an amazing job for her, but I couldn't fix it. And I think it finally fully hit me what the amputation will mean. I've been putting off thinking about it; we've been living day-to-day. But what the fuck am I going to do when she comes out of surgery, and I walk back, and her shape under the blanket is different? How am I going to keep it together for her?
She is the most important thing in my world, and always has been. And I hate that I can't make this better for her, that I don't have the words to reassure and comfort her when it really matters.