photo by patricia; mourning dove fledgling
The day is spectacularly bright, sparkly and sunny but a stormy tornado twists my insides. The weight of PTSD is oppressive. Sometimes I wonder why we have children. Why put them through this thing called life? I don’t want to face this day. It takes courage. One day is all lovely and nice and the next has me asking why do I have to live it?
Others do not bear the burden of this heavy sadness that sends me to the couch to rest, closing my eyes to the world and its overwhelming challenges. My husband and sons don’t just seem calm, they are calm, at least calmer than me in the midst of a storm. I can barely hold on.
“Are there stitches?” I ask the eye doctor fearfully.
“Just once this past year, that is rare,” he answers.
Though I like him, he doesn’t get it. Trying to explain to another who hasn’t lived with fear that shoots one to the outer limits of the stratosphere is not possible. Though compassion for the obvious struggles may exist, one does not know what another feels unless they have been there.
But a medical person should know the ramifications of adults traumatized as children and how to handle treatment accordingly. Some do. He doesn’t.
“It’s more common than people realize. One out of four are sexually attacked as children, some statistics state one out of three,” I explain, adding “My adrenaline eats up anesthesia and sedatives. Others sleep but I am wide awake. I need more than the average person”
I call back and ask more questions about the needed cataract surgery for the left eye. He reassures me that wanting my procedure done in the hospital rather than his surgical center is a good idea. He thought about me after I left which is heartening.
He intends to talk to one of his colleagues about my issues, a cataract surgeon at the hospital I use. So when I’m ready there is a referral and a safe place to go. They took very good care of me before in the out-patient department.
The follow-up with a phone call to have more questions answered and being more thorough about my needs and care is new to me and a long time coming. I’ve lived through some bad procedures and callous doctors by going through the system like everybody else.
Others seem to go through with things with little or no problem. It is not that way for me whether colonoscopy’s, endoscopy’s, dental procedures and certainly not for cataract surgery. Taking the time to feel assured I’ll be taken care of properly and feeling confident in who will be doing it are prudent measures.
In the past intense fear kept me numb. No questions were asked because I couldn’t ask them nor had the ability to advocate for myself. I am learning.