A Reflection on Day 8: Fear

 So, here I am, surgery plus eight days. I thought I would have written more by now. Oh, well!

Over all, I have has a good week. Oh, some days have felt better than others, but things have gone well. Some things that would have been awful, like nausea or constipation, have not been problems. Most important for us, I’ve been able to manage pain without using the opioid that was made available. Mind you, I took some in the hospital and I would have used it at home had I needed it. (Addiction rates are low for people who had physical causes for pain and only take the med while the pain continues.) But, I haven’t just been bearing up with ibuprofen and acetaminophen, I’ve been comfortable.

Also, I’m not your typical patient. I am so much better informed to start with, and so much more capable than most patients of getting information I don’t have. There’s a lot to be said for 40 years working in or near healthcare, and for having a wife who’s a retired nurse (with both hospital and hospice experience). As a result, I went into my surgery with sound information about prostate cancer - that there are a variety of ways to treat things, that even an aggressive prostate cancer is usually slower than a cancer starting in another organ, that survival rates of prostate cancer are really pretty good at almost any stage short of wide metastasis. I had anxiety, but I wasn’t facing near the fear of the unknown that many other patients experience.

The same is true of the hospital experience. I had a pre-op visit from the chaplain (I had requested a visit, although not necessarily pre-op), and observed to him that there was something oddly familiar and so comforting about being in the hospital, even on “the other side of the rail,” as this blog is titled. That made it more comfortable for me to be a cooperative patient and to trust the people taking care of me. That makes for a better experience. Indeed, I was pretty chatty with the folks taking care of me, and learned a lot about them. (You can put the chaplain on the other side of the rail, but he’s still a chaplain.) 

These things mean I had a lot less fear than I think most patients would have. And fear is a big deal. Fear undermines pain control, and undermines cooperation. And even if I wasn’t afraid myself, I was clear enough that there were times when I was “anxious” (things were manageable) when I could readily see being “afraid.”

That doesn’t mean there weren’t things I was afraid of; they just weren’t the “big” things. The one I’ve been most aware of has been the catheter. (Be forewarned: while I don’t want to be gross, this will certainly be indelicate.) Think where it is, and you know it’s sensitive. The biggest risk is probably infection, but my fear has been about pain. It makes, or at least it made, moving a moment of anxiety. It makes sleep harder. There is an anchor of sorts glued to my thigh, and it prevents The catheter being pulled too far or too hard, but it doesn’t prevent any pulling. God willing, nothing bad will happen, in part because good people did good work in caring for me. Still, it took a few days for me to get used to living with this. I quickly even started participating in the care, although I wouldn’t want to do this without Karen. And I only have this a few days. I have an appreciation for folks who live with this all the time.

I had a certain amount of fear about eating. Nausea and vomiting would have been horrible after any abdominal surgery, including mine. Constipation would have been no fun at all! It hasn’t been an issue, but the fear was there.

I was certainly conscious that this was about things I couldn’t control. Some of that included the difference between in the hospital and at home. I am competent and I have excellent help; and I still realized the things I couldn’t control brought me fear. 

Which brings me to this: no matter how well prepared a person is, there is always some fear. How prepared and educated and involved I am - that makes a difference in how much fear, not whether or not there is any. Having faith both in God and in the folks taking care of me makes a difference in how much fear, not in whether I have any. 

If I have fear, I have to consider and respect how much patients who have less awareness than I, less sense of control than I, will have. And I say will advisedly. It may be denied, or more often understated. It will be there, and with a little sensitivity, the patient may be persuaded to share it.


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