You know everyone reacts differently... Yes, I agree worrying doesn't get you anywhere; however, not everyone has supportive people around them or has a switch that turns the anxiety off. I've been dealing with complications for the last 5 years all because of one HUGE f*** up from a so-called simple surgery that went horribly wrong. I didn't have cancer, colitis, or IBS, just a stupid gallbladder attack that led to complications that in most people would have resulted in death. In fact, I've told half my story a few times about it, but waking up being told you're going home, then we need to watch you overnight because of your breathing, and then calling people letting them know you're okay, just to wake up a week later with tubes down your throat in a different hospital, freaking out because you can't talk, to find out you went septic and every organ went to shit. Left lung collapsed, kidneys only 9% function, horrible dreams that people are trying to kill you because of being in a coma, lack of oxygen to my brain, just to finally get moved out of ICU after 3 months, to go right back because I woke up and my stomach was hard as a rock. I couldn't get up to do PT, had a high fever, and the only relief I had was 6 ice packs around my body every hour to sleep. Then going into my first surgery, to find out a third of my pancreas died, so here come the first 6 JP drains, 3 on each side; they stapled me back up, just to go in less than a week later because poop, which they didn't know for sure was coming out of one of my drains. I go back in and wake up with an ostomy because, lo and behold, my colon had ripped. And the fun didn't stop. I had to learn how to walk, had a mini heart attack, blood clots, a chest tube, and a PICC line on TPN for 19 months, became diabetic, and got COVID in the hospital. I had a wound vac and packing in my whole stomach (midline is under my chest down to 2 inches above my private area), and looking down and seeing my insides horrified me. Thinking the worst was over and trying to readjust after 6 months in the hospital, going home with no real knowledge of anything other than showing me how to change my bag maybe 3 times, my life was hell. Until I came across this site and learned different things no one bothered telling me. Things were okay; all my CTs and MRIs came back with no problems. Then a year later, I got the flu really bad, my kidneys started failing again, and I had the worst pain in my abdomen. My first abscess since leaving the hospital. Yippee, another JP drain. Thinking, okay, no big deal, right? Had one before, I'll be fine. Well, somehow I caught MAC, which is a very rare bacteria that usually starts in the lungs, and fluid builds up, and treatment can last up to 2 years on 3 different antibiotics. Mostly cancer patients and people with HIV get this and die because the rate of being cured isn't the greatest. After a year, mine still was there (thankfully mine never traveled to my lungs) because yet another abscess developed. And to try and cut this long novel short, I've had 10 ERCPs and stents in my bile duct and pancreas replaced every 4 to 6 months, and each time it's harder to replace them. Well, in September of this past year, I let a few people know what was going on, and in February everything was fine; I got the 3rd drain out, and I just went for my 11th ERCP and stent exchange on April 4th, only to go back to the hospital 2 weeks later because my stents were leaking, and now I have yet another drain on my hip bone. And to get to the point, my surgeon, whom I haven't seen since 2020, walks into my room and says, "You look good for someone that's gone through everything you have," and I'm surprised you're doing as well as you are considering... and then the panic kicked in. He told me one day they would have to recut me open through all my scar tissue that took forever to heal and remove my whole pancreas to get the leaks to stop. But they decided to hold off because it was so high risk, and when I went in the second time, I flatlined 3 times when they found the rip in my colon, and I woke up with my bag. So trying not to worry about that is pretty freaking hard when you're already in pain so bad and can't walk without help, and having to take special K because morphine and everything else wasn't working this time can really mess with your mental state, no matter how strong you try to stay. And all I did was tell myself I made it this far somehow. Just let the pain go away and let me walk without a damn walker, and I'll deal with the rest. But thinking in that moment and even writing this out is making me cry. So not to sound mean, because I know everyone on here tries to support everyone and build them up, but if you worry or cry or break down, WTF cares? Nobody is you, and keep fighting with everything you've got. And if anybody really read this to the very end and you need to vent or don't have people around you that support you, please feel free to respond back or message me. Sometimes that's all you need. And remember, it's okay not to be okay at times. Just don't give up, and the hardest thing is whatever is going to happen, unfortunately, we have no control over. So cry, let the crap out, have your moments, but fight the fight. If you give in, that makes it even harder. Again, sorry for the novel, but it frustrates me when people don't understand. Some people can deal with situations differently than others. Hugs and prayers to whoever needs them. Take care, everybody ❤️
PS... I know I have spelling errors here and there. Nobody's perfect. I was on a roll.
