This is one of those posts that should probably be labeled “TMI” due to the graphic nature of the tale but for my own benefit and for any of those who are interested, it’s a juicy story. If medical dramas aren’t your thing, I won’t be the least bit offended if you just enjoy this darling photo of our kids and then skip over this post.
The doctor started off my post-op visit by stating “You’re like a cat. You must have nine lives with all the emergency surgeries you’ve been through.”
This story unfolded on Sunday May 22, 2011. I prayed all morning for the pain & nausea in my gut to subside and for the strength to be able to go to church because after the two youth speakers, I was the only other Sacrament Meeting speaker that day and didn’t want to leave the bishopric hanging (good thing because 2/3 of our bishopric missed most of the meeting as they were at the bedside of a brother in the ward who passed away that morning); and because one of my Primary counselors was out with a cold and we had no music leader for the Primary. So I couldn’t leave my other counselor to run the whole show with all 60+ kids by herself if there was any way around it.
It was a miracle that somehow I was able to pull myself together and do all I had been praying for strength to do that day. My talk on parenting was very well received and I’ve even had a couple of people request a copy of my remarks - I’d call that a miracle. I went on to conduct the Primary meetings, filled in for the music leader and managed to keep a cool demeanor so very few people were aware of the pain I was in. After church I promptly collapsed back into bed thinking this is the worst PMS I’ve had in years. Sunday was Ram’s birthday and I felt terrible that I hadn’t done much at all to celebrate his special day but it was just beyond my ability that day.
Monday, May 23 started out fairly normal. I’d been in such pain the day before I couldn’t roll out of bed. I was still feeling tender, dizzy & worn out but as I was preparing to take Zeth to school and go to work, the pain came rushing back and as I collapsed I knew there was something definitely wrong with me. I have serious reservations about calling 911, especially when I’m not sure what’s wrong with me but I’m glad I did. The paramedics took me to the local hospital where they determined I was about 6-7 weeks pregnant. This miraculous news shocked me since there was maybe a 1% chance of that ever happening again. It had been 11 years since our last ectopic “tubal” pregnancy and my one remaining embattled tube was so shrouded in scar tissue the last surgeon to go looking for it couldn’t find it. You’d think that after going through 4 ectopic pregnancies I’d have had a better idea of what was going on but the chances of it happening were so minimal that I really couldn’t conceive that I had conceived again. I seriously wanted to believe that the pain was just due to scar tissue breaking apart and that this would finally be the answer to our prayers as to where our next child will come from.
Twelve hours after my 911 call, two ambulance rides, two hospitals, two ultrasounds and five IV lines later, it was determined that it was another ectopic and I was wheeled into the OR around 7pm. As I was scooting from the gurney to the OR table, the tube with the baby in it ruptured and instantly flooded my abdomen with blood. The pain I’d felt before was nothing compared to the torrent that seized me in that moment. It’s a miracle I was on the table and within minutes they were able to put me out of my misery. They pumped a liter of blood out of my stomach during the 2-hour surgery which lasted twice as long as they had anticipated because there was a minefield of scar tissue to cut through in order to free things up as they proceeded.
Ram and I are still trying to figure out what the lesson to be learned with this experience is. I really haven’t even bothered to entertain useless thoughts of ‘why’ but I’m still trying to figure out the ‘what’ questions. What am I supposed to learn from this? What are we supposed to do next? These answers will come eventually I hope. For now we’re opening our minds to our options again and trying to follow the guidance of the spirit. I have felt the presence of angels comforting me and helping me recover. I haven’t been as sad about this loss as those in the past for some reason. I can only attribute that to all the prayers, meals, visits and messages that my supporters have offered on my behalf. (Thank you!!) And a huge MAHALO to my sister for leaving her family and flying out on a moments notice to take care of me. Can't even begin to express how wonderful it was having her here that first week after surgery. Being the recipient of so much love and service is extremely humbling. Maybe humility is the WHAT I need to learn better.
Zoom forward 4 weeks and I had a much more pleasant weekend experience to share.
A childhood friend, Lori, found me on Facebook a few years ago and shared a touching story with me. I brought Lori to our Thursday afternoon Primary activities at church a few times over the course of 2nd thru 4th grades. Her family moved away to Colorado just as our friendship was budding and I was really sad to see her go. Her parents were not interested in religion but conveniently, the town they moved to just happened to have a thriving LDS population so Lori quickly found more Mormon friends there. Once she was 18 years old, she made the decision to join the LDS church and has been an active member ever since. She attributed her brief interactions with me at Primary as one of the foundations on her journey. Can’t tell ya how wonderful that feels.
So Lori and her darling family were here this week on vacation and after 30 years apart, we were reunited for a couple of brief visits during their stay. Our families went to the Polynesian Cultural Center together on Friday then they came to our church meetings on Sunday followed by a fabulous Father’s Day lunch at our home and a visit to the Laie LDS Temple. Being so far from where my life began, it’s easy to forget details about my past. It was so great to reminisce about happy childhood memories with her.
The kids all got along splendidly and had fun together (PCC was a big hit for everyone), our husbands seemed to enjoy eachother's company and Lori just feels like a kindred spirit to me. I feel so lucky to have a friend like her in my life again. It was such a spiritual boost for me seeing the happy fruit of my unconscious labor as a kid, just being a friend and sharing the gospel thru Primary. My cup felt really full this weekend.
If someone were to ask me where the new jar of amazing peach mango salsa from Costco is, I’d probably give them a blank stare and say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I’m just sayin. Sometimes you just gotta give in to the message your body is sending you or it’ll never leave you alone. I guess that’s why I’m probably going to listen to the new message my body is screaming at me right now and I’m not going to make it to Tahitian dance class tonight. Too much volleyball fun today during lunch & I’m already sore. Tomorrow I’ll go to Zumba but I’m not up for two-a-days yet.
Last weekend my friend Maeva & I took our kids to the current Disney boy-band "All Star Weekend" (yes that's the name of the group) concert at the PCC. First real 'mainland' group concert for either of our kids. 
This was the next big furniture purchase on my list for the past decade that just kept getting pushed down the priority list. I couldn't be more thrilled that our family has started actually dining in the the highly neglected dining room on a pretty regular basis. I am so done with eating every meal on a bar stool in the kitchen. We just happened to find it on the last night of my dear sister's visit so she and Ram stayed up late and assembled the whole beautiful 8-chair set that night. I love the new look!
