What You Don't Know Does Matter

     What you don't know can kill you. Depression, I didn't know how deep I was - it almost killed me. Anxiety and agoraphobia (is that the one where you are afraid to leave your house?) they almost killed me. They certainly deconstructed my idyllic life. Left me there a huddled mass still clutching my knees to my chest or curled in the fetal position.
     So the easy snip snap 30 minutes in and out procedure - it didn't go down like that. Yes, they did remove the andonema(sp)from my pituitary gland. Most of it is a haze. I know I was intubated(sp), I know a halo was screwed into my head. I know I spent several hours in the ICU (6 according to the medical bill) I know I was not taken to 8th floor neuro post surgery - I was taken to 6th floor cardiac. Had I been taken to the 8th floor I would have been next to Elizabeth Taylor. I know they were giving me 3 bags of IV. There is something about pituitary surgery - after you have it you should not receive IV bags. It drowns the brain. I don't know which endocrinologist ordered the IV fluids. No one fessed up. I do know my brain was drowning. I was slipping away.
     Aldona, who flew from Dallas to LAX where Donald picked her up and brought her directly to Cedars. She stayed with me every day, every night. She sat there, watching me slip away. One night, as she sat there crying, a woman came to the room. (this told to me by Aldona) The woman asked if Aldona wanted to pray. I believe they prayed. Then the woman told Aldona she needed to have a "Terms of Endearment" moment. You remember the movie. Julia Roberts is Shirley McClain's daughter. Roberts is dying and McClain is watching with helpless grief. Then McClain, unable to bear witness to her daughter's death goes to the nurses station and begins to shout at everyone and anyone.
     That is what Aldona Mae did. She went out to the nurse's station and shouted at anyone and everyone. It worked. Finally the "team" of Drs. huddled together. A med student realized it was the IV solution. He ordered it discontinued.
     Just prior to that woman's visit I was on the bridge between here and the there. Some people believe in such experiences, others don't. I can only share with you my story, my experience, my memory. Was it real? I don't know. It is what I felt, experienced, remembered. I have had similar experiences before so I guess I am a believer.
     Having left my body I was hovering over myself. To my right there was a white tubular shaped cloud looking thing. To my left there was Aldona. She was sleeping on a cot. Her legs hung off the end because it was so small. I think she was wearing the same clothes she arrived in. With the exception of getting food or taking a break at Jerry's Deli she had not left the hospital. I was looking at myself, lying (people lie, objects lay - that is the rule) in the hospital bed. I looked like shit.
     I felt tired. Worn out - not just from this surgical procedure - from everything. Living with chronic pain, having lost my family, riddled with guilt because I was not able to work, frustrated because nothing medical was fixing me, scared of what I did not know, afraid of what was to come...The softness of that white tubular shaped cloud enticed me. I did not know where it led - it seemed a safe escape. The finger pointers, paper pushers, attorneys, Drs., excuse makers, policy enforcers - to get away from all of it. That white tube was my escape pod. I only need enter and I was free. There on that cot was Aldona Mae, my Poopy Sister - she would be devastated - but she would go on. She had Robert and Jessica Rose. She was strong. Her legs hanging off that cot; I could not have Aldona wake up and find me gone. I could not do that.
     Glancing once again to my right the white tubular shaped cloud was gone. Opening my eyes, I was again lying in a bed. Since the operation to fix my leg, I was lying in a bed.
     Like I said, you either believe in such experiences or you don't. Was it a memory I created? Was it my writer's imagination reaching for the dramatic? Was it real? I can't answer that.
     Once the IV was discontinued I began to rally. I demanded to see the endocronological team. I wanted to know who ordered those IV bags. Instead, standing at the foot of my bed, there were assembled a group of med students. Their backs were against the wall. Their faces so young. When I asked who ordered the IV bags there was no response. A young man took credit for writing the order to discontinue the IV. Otherwise it was a wall of white coats. The Dr., head of endocrinology at Cedars - he was noticeably absent. I gave a speech. They examined the floor tile.
     Dr. Solsky came in.
     "Maybe I can sleep tonight." she said.
     Dr. Solsky did not want me to have the surgery. She wanted me to see a psychiatrist. I was too proud. I was certain there was something physically wrong with me. There were many things physically wrong with me - that was not in dispute. There were also many things emotionally wrong with me - I was too proud to admit it.
     Ironic isn't it. So determined to prove I was not having a  nervous breakdown, to prove I was not depressed - so determined to show the paper pushers, policy makers, finger pointers, lawyers, and Drs. that my physical illness was real, I died. And even after that, I remained unable to help myself. So adept at separating my mind from my body I could not begin to see how deep the well of my depression and anxiety were. What I didn't know did matter.
     It was during this time I started taking a new batch of medicines. Oxycontin and Oxycodone for pain, Neurontin and Savella for nerve pain, Acyclovir (sp) and some other anti-viral med for TB and shingles, Dexilant for my stomach, Synthroid for Hypothyroid disease,Valium for muscle spasms, xanax for anxiety, Zoloft for depression, (though I still would not admit I was depressed) Prednisone...
     Finally, released from the hospital. Liz had arranged for my bed to be in the living room. I believe Tony and Nasi had disassembled it, brought the pieces downstairs, and reassembled it in the living room. I could not climb stairs. My head spun like a tilt a whirl. I drifted in and out. I remember very little.
     Aldona had to return to Texas. She had been with me a month. Bad weather kept Eileen grounded in Burlington. After two failed attempts, third time was the charm. It is a two hour drive from Malone to Burlington. Not an easy drive - she kept at it. Shari was on the mainland for spring break, she came by. Zuko was happy I was home. That's it.
     Many people did many things to help me. My river, the river I continued to stand in, the river which sustained me even though I was not able to reach down and scoop a handful of the clean, refreshing water. Ah, there is irony again - the IV solution nearly drowned my brain - anxiety and depression left my soul dehydrated.
     Most of it is a blur - I don't remember what happened - months are missing. I could not taste, smell, standing was difficult, riding in a car made me sick. I tried returning to work. My shoulders, neck, back, hips, and leg still riddled me with pain. My head hurt - opening my eyes hurt, sound hurt - there was not a waking moment when I could not feel the burning pain in my leg or the ice pick in my head or the rock in my soul. I took a lot of medicine, anything to escape.