The Sober Widow

Chapter 9

As you can imagine, with all that happened to me last year, I developed a mantra. It got me through many tough times. And that mantra was “this will pass.” There were so many times I applied it and it always worked. I highly recommend it!

Of course, some things passed much slower than others, and some things, like losing Tony, will probably never pass but at least it becomes bearable. That’s really the best I can hope for.

Even before surgery, I was on a lot of medication for various reasons, as well as IV drips and blood transfusions. Some of the medication had unfortunate side effects, like Lactulose, which has the texture of maple syrup but none of the good flavor. So that was not enjoyable, but the purpose was to attack the toxins in the sick liver from making me batshit crazy. No lie, before they put me on that medication, I lost all of Easter Sunday 2023 because I had no idea who I was or where I was. I was rushed to the hospital because Tony was so concerned that I wasn’t myself, and that’s when they started asking me all those questions about myself that I couldn’t answer. Tony had to leave because of our dog, but I figured I could call him later to update him. Except I couldn’t remember his phone number and although I had my phone handy, too many attempts to unlock it with my passcode rendered it useless for an hour or so (I couldn’t remember that either). Meanwhile, he’s worried sick about me but he can’t come back because visiting hours are long over.

This horrible medication, which did end up working a few hours later, had the lovely side effect of making me have to run to the bathroom on a moment’s notice, and also made me sick to my stomach. I have to share this story that I still giggle at because it’s the perfect example of using “this will pass” to get through something awful while hanging on to my sense of humor for dear life.

Here I am, doing what you do when you are “outputting” from both ends of your body and feeling totally miserable. I remember telling my brother, who was staying with me at the time, that if he found me on the bathroom floor that night, it was because I chose to be there because I was too drained to make it to bed. All the while repeating to myself “this will pass” because I truly felt absolutely awful. Anyway, I can’t leave the position I’m in for the time being, and I look over to my left, where I see one sole carpenter ant on the shower floor. I can’t do anything about it yet, so all I can do is plan my move when I can finally get off the toilet. Then, I carefully open the shower door, and dispatch him.

I mentioned before that I had an incredible support system between family and friends. That was a requirement in order to qualify for surgery. OK, we’ve established that.

I go to bed. My sleep is terrible again, as usual. While I’m trying to relax, all I can think of is “oh no, what if Mr. Ant had an incredible support system as well?” And I’m convinced I’ll wake up in the morning and see a line of ants in my shower. Of course, they all have Italian accents and they’re saying “we understand you had a problem with our brother.” Luckily, that did not turn out to be true but the memory still makes me smile.

I’m sure you see where I’m going with this. Lying in a hospital bed during three hours of dialysis, three times a week. “This will pass.” Having five liters of fluid taken out of your belly once a week. “This will pass.” Having a catheter inserted in your carotid artery for pictures of your heart while you are moaning in terrible pain. “This will pass.” Being in the ICU for a week when they decided to put me through 24/7 of dialysis in an effort to get more fluid out of my belly, legs and feet, and not being able to move. “This will pass.” There are so many more examples of when I had to use this mantra and I think you get the point.

And thank goodness all of it did pass, eventually. I hope you like this picture of a print I purchased from Facebook Marketplace. When I saw it, I knew I had to have it because it spoke to me. It inspires me every day.