We've always been on great terms, my two kidneys and I, over the past almost-six decades. In fact, I thought we were the best of friends...... until a few weeks ago when Ms Left decided to announce herself with pain. The very bad pain earned me a trip to the emergency department, CT scans, the urology clinic, the nuclear medicine suite, and back to the clinic. Whoever wants to go to such places? Anyway, I'd become quite familiar with the urology clinic and last week I became incredibly familiar with its outpatient surgical center. The tests and my new doctor all said something is partially obstructing the ureter/tube between Ms Left Kidney and Ms Bladder. Apparently, this is not good and swollen kidneys should be avoided. He said a stent needed to be placed in the ureter to drain the kidney and maybe he could fix the obstruction at the same time.
Mark came from Missoula to help me and we were even early for my 11AM check-in. "Mam, did they talk to you about the balance due after your insurance pays?" asked the very nice clinic clerk. I handed over my credit card and just as she placed it in the reader the power went out! Well, they all said, this had never happened before. She wasn't sure my card had gone through. "Are the generators working in the surgical suite?" was the primary question as important looking people swarmed in and out of the waiting room. I was already nervous about the surgery and this situation didn't help at all. They asked us to wait for an hour before leaving in hopes the power would return. So, I picked up stressful political magazines that Mark said I should put away. I needed to stay stress free, he counseled. He was right. Instead, I scoured my phone for Springfield Utility Board reports about the outage. Nothing there. Nothing on the news. So, we sat. And sat. And sat. Suddenly, at 11:55 AM, everything came back on and within minutes my escort arrived to take me back for surgery. Now, they were in a rush to get my procedure moving.
I was already overwhelmed by the whole thing and halfway hoping it'd be cancelled. But, before I knew it I was changing into the completely unflattering surgical gown that she said I didn't need to bother tying in the back. Right. The doctor came in and wrote "L" on my left wrist with a purple marker. Good, let's make sure you work on the left side, I thought.
The calm anesthesiologist came to prep me. She had questions, checked my lungs, more questions, and then said, "You're really nervous." That's all it took. With tears welling up I said, "This is the first medical crisis since my husband died." I was petrified because Rod wasn't in the waiting room and wouldn't be there when I woke up. She was very kind and just as she started to give me something in the IV to calm me down, an anxious office person showed up saying, "Your card didn't go through! Can we run it now?" Really? I told her my brother had it in the waiting room. "Is he on the account? Can he sign it?" "Well, no, he can't." The anesthesiologist stepped aside until the office person came back with the fresh receipt on her clipboard. I signed, she was happy, I got my drugs.
I woke up in recovery and was told the stent was placed, but, unfortunately the obstruction couldn't be fixed with this procedure and I'll need another surgery. It seems I was born with a kink. A kink? A kink in the left ureter leading from my kidney? It's been there all this time and just now presenting itself?
There's ample bereavement evidence that widowed individuals frequently experience medical crises after the death of their spouse. I know this. I talk to clients all the time about the physical manifestations of grief. But, I thought I'd escaped anything huge following Rod's death eighteen months ago. Not so fast, sister. Not so fast. Seems my system has an eighteen month grief clock. Eighteen months after my Dad's death I'd gone by ambulance to the hospital for several days in Tacoma back in 2003.
This kink has been here my whole life, the doctor says. Maybe the grief really tightened it up? Certainly possible, but hard to know for sure. Unexpected kinks come in many forms throughout life, don't they? And their counterparts, called graces, also come in beautiful ways. Rod couldn't be in the waiting room last Wednesday or with me when I woke up. However, his love has flowed through graces named Mark, Tahoe, Sue, Gail, Terie, Fran, Cynthia, Tressa, Joanne, Fran, Denise, Athena, Lori, Victoria, Krista, Nate, Julie, Dan, Larry, Tara, Bryan, Eddie, Jim, Sandy, Fred, Connie, and Diane. These graces, amongst others, are lovingly supporting me through this time.
Even with a kink, a stent, and another surgery on the horizon, I'm awed and deeply grateful for so many loving friends near and far. Maybe I was wrong last Wednesday. Maybe Rod was in that waiting room, holding my hand during surgery, and with me when my eyes opened. I think that's right. He just looks different now. He looks like all the beautiful graces carrying me through this otherwise scary experience.
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