Day Six - Surviving the Day: A Journey Through Surgery, Stents, and Spilled Secrets

January 6, 2025

Today was one of those days. You know, the kind that starts with a plan but quickly devolves into chaos, leaving you holding on by your fingernails and wondering when the next plot twist will hit. It was tough—like "first-medical-procedure-before-chemo" tough.

It started early. Too early. The transport to the operating room arrived a full 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Now, if you know me, you know I’m a process person. I thrive on structure, order, and knowing what’s next. So when they showed up early, my brain hit the panic button. Cue an anxiety whirlwind: Maria’s on her way! I haven’t brushed my hair! Where’s my sense of control?! Spoiler: It didn’t make the cut this morning.

Once I was in the operating room, the day served me another curveball: a last-minute surgeon change. Oh sure, why not? Let’s keep the anxiety train rolling, right? But in fairness to the new doc, the surgery itself went smoothly. Gold star for them. Recovery, on the other hand… Let’s just say that’s where the ride got bumpy.

The Night Before: A Tech’s First Day

Before today’s whirlwind, I had a small misadventure with a medical tech drawing my labs last night. It was her first-ever attempt at a blood draw, and guess who got to be her debut? Yep, me. Now, here’s the thing about my veins: they’re big, but they love to roll like they’re auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. They’re notoriously hard to pin down in the arms, so most people go straight for my hands.

If you’ve never had a needle in the hand, let me tell you, it’s an experience. The kind you’d prefer to skip entirely. Let’s just say it took a few tries, and I found myself silently praying for the seasoned pro to swoop in. But we got through it, and hey, I like to think I helped her build some confidence. Even if it was at the cost of my own comfort, I’m doing my part for education, right?

Still, for the record, I’m very team “experienced tech.” No offense to the newbies, but I’d rather not play the role of pincushion-in-training.

Back to the Main Event

Fast forward to today. Back in my room after surgery, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. A truck carrying ureteral stents. If you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting a ureteral stent, don’t worry—I included a handy link, I’ll spare you the graphic details, but feel free to let your imagination roam. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t a party.

The Cat’s Out of the Bag

Before today, I had a plan for how I’d share this journey. I was going to wait until after my first round of chemo this week to open up. But, like any good plot twist, someone lovingly posted about it on social media. I’m not mad—seriously, I know it came from a place of care—but it was a reminder of how personal this process feels. We all want to tell our own stories in our own way, and this was a moment of my story that I wanted to control.

Maria: The Real MVP

Through it all, Maria has been my rock. My champion. My partner. She’s been by my side, sacrificing her time and energy to make sure I don’t face this alone. She’s the person you want in your corner when life throws its worst at you.

Distractions, D&D, and Needles

Last night, I joined my D&D podcast, Leaders N’ Legacies. It was a much-needed escape from reality, even though the nurses seemed determined to turn my recording session into a cameo appearance. Picture this: intense storytelling, dice rolling, and then—“Hi, just here to check your vitals!” Nothing says epic adventure like a blood pressure cuff.

Battle Scars

Today, I’m sore, bruised, and riddled with needle marks—both arms, both hands, a veritable pincushion. But here’s the thing: this is just part of the process. It’s not glamorous, and it’s definitely not fun, but it’s part of the fight.

I’ll get back up. I’ll face tomorrow with whatever strength I can muster. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll brush my hair before the next surprise visitor.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for walking this path with me—even if it’s a little bumpier than I’d like.