Cindy calls us to dinner after she sets the table. I smile, yet am as removed from the usual joys as I am to my body. Have I purposely caused damage because at my core feel unloved and need to be punished? Or is it because this medication makes my head woozy and I really thought I could manage without it?
I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that the stomach stapling, the Butchering done 30 years ago has brought complications, and that I must live it and with this medication. After the very serious GI bleed in November, it took this many months for it to heal. I decided to wean off the 40 mg twice daily, to once daily then down to 20 mg.
“Samuel, I am doing OK at 20 mg a day. I think I will go off it,” I said.
He nods, says nothing.
So I do and two days later the pain began. I sit in Adele’s office crying about brothers who weren’t there then and aren’t there now. I also mention the pain and the long ago surgery.
“You have to come to terms with the little girl who wants someone to help her, but no one does,” then laughs dryly adding, “And for sure won’t now,” she says looking directly into my eyes. Her eyes appears moist. On the way out she again suggests checking in with a GI Specialist.
I go home and call the Bariatric specialist as she advised, this time talking with a much more pleasant person than the surgeon. The pain means I am bleeding again, and by stopping the medication Protoprazole, another ulcer has formed.
“Yes, you need to stay on it permanently,” she said, deflating my hopes of ever being cured, “and I will call in a script for Carafate 4X a day for six weeks. That must be spaced 4 hours between meals.”
I wake in the morning with anxiety and a feeling of dread. That is unlike me as mornings are a time full of hope and productivity. But this feeling doesn’t dissipate till later in the day.
Fall brings a lowering of mood, combined with health fears, and the realization that I’ve been interacting with Seth, Don and Stevie out of fear; three out of seven siblings who did not sexually attack me. Fear has run me from my life, my center and my feelings of wholeness.
Adele says, “You can do it!”
And I take that with me so that when the hole of feeling unloved and unworthy swallows me, I am able to climb out. I went backward in time when I pretended to be what ‘family’ wanted…pleasing, fake, and invisible, not a person at all. It is hard to come back to myself and into the woman I am only just beginning to discover.
The little girl abused was left all alone. Pull her back into me and take control. It’s OK to have Adele mention the obvious; call the doctor…It’s OK to need support though it is hard to come to terms with that also.
I remember how it always has been, who my ‘family’ really is. They are who I choose.
Our group that meets monthly and has been for over 15 years.
Ruth, Chris, Mary, Nancy, my dear Sue who has died, her doggy, and me!