Life after death…kind of

I’ve had stomach issues for years…an organ-twisting kind of pain that would hit me in the gut any time I was overly anxious about anything (so, pretty much, my entire childhood and adolescence). Although I was fairly certain I was suffering from some kind of mysterious, fatal stomach ailment, the doctors disagreed. I was diagnosed with a “nervous stomach,” and sent on my way with the suggestion to relax, and a prescription for Tagamet.

Much to my surprise, life didn’t miraculously become easier upon becoming an adult. It became crystal clear I was going to need some heavy-duty coping techniques. I went on a decades-long quest to beat stress, and eventually developed a huge bag of tools to calm myself…yoga, exercise, prayer, meditation, progressive relaxation, candles, gardening. I bookmarked passages from authors like Wayne Dyer and Eckhart Tolle, because of their power to soothe me when my world got too crazy.

So, a few years ago, when my stomach started hurting, and nothing in my bag of tricks was helping, instead of going to the doctor, I naturally turned to WebMD. When the symptom-checker turned up fun things like diverticulitis, gallstones and peptic ulcer, I did what anybody would do. I decided to ignore the pain.

Until I couldn’t.

Pretty soon I couldn’t eat anything without major agony afterward. So, when I mentioned in a message to my husband that I was preparing my emergency sub plans (after fifteen consecutive years of perfect attendance), he told me he was on his way to pick me up, that we were headed to the hospital. We ended up at the urgent care center, and the doctor said, though we’d have to wait for the blood test results, he was pretty sure I had either an ulcer, or pancreatitis.

That night, armed with a lifetime supply of Zantac, I headed back to the computer to do a little more research. I decided there was no way in hell I would allow myself to have pancreatitis. Words like usually fatal and life-threatening made it sound like no fun at all. It was my professional opinion that I most definitely had an ulcer.

Except I didn’t.

The nurse called me at work the next day. Definitely pancreatitis. I was instructed to stop eating solid food immediately and to call my doctor ASAP. My doc sent me for an ultrasound, and when that wasn’t conclusive I was sent to a gastroenterologist. She sent me for an MRI, and when THAT wasn’t conclusive I was sent to Northwestern Memorial in Chicago. Finally, after a month and a half of running from one appointment to another, it was determined that I had severe trauma to my pancreas. After we went over my options with the surgeon, it was agreed that the best course of action was to lop a hunk of that baby right off. I’d have to lose my spleen as well, but he assured me I would never miss either.

But, it didn’t go unnoticed — I was now being treated in oncology.

It was like somebody else took over my mind. I was strangely, uncharacteristically peaceful. When I thought about writing a bucket list, I couldn’t think of a single thing I needed. I had a loving husband, a wonderful daughter who had grown up to be a productive member of society, dear friends, and the respect of my colleagues, students and community. Sure, I would have loved to have been a grandma, but my daughter and her husband had been trying for years, and that didn’t appear to be in the cards.

It was amazing, really. I, the one who always had to work so hard not to stress over the little things, was pretty darn calm. There was no panic (okay, maybe every once in a while, a tiny bit of adrenaline), no regret. I realized that all the bullshit I had once thought important, no longer was. My husband and I prayed for the best, and prepared for the worst (cremated, scattered in my flowerbed).

After two months of relative bed rest, the surgery went off without a hitch, and the pathology report came back cancer-free (thank GOD I had no idea how bad recovery was going to suck, or I may not have been so calm…I still shudder when I think about the drain sticking out of my side). And when I look back on it now, I see the whole ordeal as a kind of gift…it changed my perspective, the way I look at the world, and made me realize just how truly blessed I am.

♪♫ Every now and then it gets a little hard to tell but I’m still alive and well ♪

(Lyrics by Johnny Winter)