The Story of Kate Part II
I currently have a my super shitty MRI, which quickly become MRI’s. If you are truely broken you get to the front of the MRI line.
I have 3 small humans, and a flying position posting, which is currently gold in a sea of ground jobs urgently being filled. At this point all I care about is getting my aircraft upgrade to captain. That process is a complete other story, what matters is that I kept trying despite obstacles unrelated to me.
My doctor was deployed to the xxxx with the xxxx, an issue with the military. I was given another doctor who assured me he’d seen much worse with no surgery required.
On the family side that was the year grandma wanted us all to go to Disney World. She planned this incredible trip and I loved it. Top to bottom I loved it. But I was in so much pain. I couldn’t ride the rides. I was eating Advil and Tylenol like tic tac’s and drinking in the day. In hindsight a trip to the emergency room might have provided some safer pain control options. I felt like I ruined that trip. I was a complete and utter asshole. I was in so much pain I could not get a grip on it. I still feel poorly about my behaviour. My sister in law assures me that she had a hangry (hungry/angry) melt down and was forcibly removed from the Disney Christmas parade by her husband. Put it on the family regret list I guess!
I came home from the trip and first stop doctor. I was refered to a Orthopaedic Surgeon and put on the rush list and given the first appointment after the Christmas break. It was a painful Christmas. Husband came to the appointment with me, I didn’t take pain meds because I wanted to be able to explain what hurt and how it hurt. I made it half way through the waiting period and the room became so bright I had to take them. The first step was an intern/resident/dr helper monkey who did a full examination, said yes that’s shit, you need surgery (but nicer) to which I said oh no thanks. This moment, this is the moment where I lose my priorities. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain. The resident left and husband and I could slightly overhear the conversation outside the door. “She…surgery…doesn’t want to…non surgical….yada yada…” Basicaly, I said no thanks, I’d like to treat this without surgery, what can we do? I was referred to ‘The Pain Clinic’ and again it was quick, because I’m a ‘Jet Pilot.’ I shut up and let it pass. I was in so much pain. My real road of drugs starts here! (Jazz hands) I was restricted in what I could take because I was still flying. There are approved and non-approved drugs. Some are ‘As or with co-pilot’ stating you cannot fly a single seat aircraft, I found this unacceptable. Part of my plan was that we could potentially end up back in the training world. I’m good at training, I liked training, it would be a pretty big loss for me and I simply could not have that! My medical status is immediately changed to ‘As or with co-pilot.’ Scowls.
We tried drugs, drugs that made me fat, drugs that made me blurry. I did Physio, acupuncture, massage therapy, marriage counselling. (Like how I snuck that in there?) Pain is hard on a person, but it’s also hard on those around them. I had a spinal injection that worked so well, for about 2 months. They refused to do it again until I had another MRI. At the same time I was also asking around who is the best doctor, what should I look for. It was decided a Neurosurgeon was the best fit for this surgery and I had a consult with the one I chose end June. He came in, I instantly liked him, he assessed me, he asked me about airplanes, I think he liked me and he said okay surgery it is, tomorrow or a month from tomorrow. I should have chosen tomorrow but silly me still really wanted that aircraft upgrade and I was so close. I thought just one more month, I can do it!
I couldn’t do it.
One day I kissed sweet Lily goodbye, she was standing on a stool, a tiny ginger 2 year old, reached out from her stool for a kiss and a hug and jumped into my arms. Her hands around the back of my neck and as she touched my neck the tiny sweet baby and I collapsed to the floor. I never flew again, not from the pilot seat anyway. It had nothing to do with my sweet baby, she was a tiny little thing and my damage was long done but that was my breaking point. I showed up to my docotor on the base mid afternoon (this is just not done), I showed up in tears, sobbing and he knew. He saw me immediately and I said, “I know I don’t usually ask this but could you please drug me?” I gave in. It was just too much pain. He responded with something along the lines of, “Oh yes, thank god. It’s time!” You’ll remember I’d been fighting him on leaving work and medicating for so long.
That month was the longest month. I wished to god I’d chosen to have the surgery the next day. My feet became droopy and I shuffled and tripped along and could only walk at the slowest pace, I’m not even sure we’d call it ‘walking.’ Elderly people lapped me with walkers, not joking. I would shuffle along holding walls and hands and husband and curse at old people kicking my ass humping along with their super speedy walkers. Every movement, every shuffle, every breath hurt. Every night husband would set me up in bed with a glass of wine and a movie and I would cry. Why did I wait so long? Things in this month become very blurry. I remember my sister in laws came to visit and I forced them to take me yard sale-ing at the cottage but could only make it a street or two (in the car). We made strawberry jam, in that they made it and I sat in the corner of the sofa very, very still. I can’t remember who and when or if I told people about my surgery. Some of you would be better judges of that. I know I kept my cards pretty well hidden until that point. Mostly I remember pain and tears, husband helping me climb stairs on hands and knees, missing my children, more tears, emergency room visits when I started losing feeling in my legs, and other strange neurological developments, discussing if we should do emergency surgery with another surgeon before mine returned from wherever he was for that month, and deciding to wait, and then sitting very, very still.
One of my bosses said to me later, ‘I know this has been a difficult year for you’ and I did one of those psychotic uncontrollable completely inappropriate laughs which turned into tears running on my cheeks. Yes. It was ‘difficult,’ you have no idea.
So let’s call it there. I feel like I’m starting a pity party for myself and I hate for you to think of me like that.
Positive updates, we are T minus 2 days for the move. Can you believe it? I’ve been thinking about how crazy this year has been, not like it’s any less crazy that previous years, lol! But how crazy is this?! We sold/donated/purged at least half of our belongings, we sold our house, we’re moving to Toronto! Oh my gosh I am looking forward to this new chapter. I think we are going to be amazing. This is my year and I am going to love it and live it! Have a fabulous day. Be sure to check Instagram for updates on the move. Once I’m settled the plan is blog posts Mondays and Thursdays regularly with you tube updates periodically. I wanted to share this summer but it turns out not to work well from the cottage. Just in case you were like hey lady you promised us You Tube! It is coming. It’s a tech problem. I’ve notified the tech department (husband/small human boys) and they are working on it (ie said wait til you have a computer in Toronto, hah) 💕
Now no one is feeling sorry for me, I have a beautiful life, and I am off to have a beautiful day.
Love always K