I’ve been singing “One More Sleep” by Leona Lewis to myself all morning. No, it’s not one more sleep until Christmas. We actually have a lot of sleeps until then, considering as I type this, the date is January 2, 2020. It’s one more sleep until I go visit the GI specialist who could possibly help me feel better. It’s been 37 days now since I’ve been suffering to various degrees with my throat injury that I recently discovered is an esophagus issue.
The worry, the discomfort, the fear….it’s all-consuming.
To recap the dreaded events, here’s the “quick” version: I was ravenously eating dinner (that consisted of slightly undercooked macaroni and a homemade cashew “cheese” sauce that in hindsight, was not perfectly blended) the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving, and I felt like I had a piece of cashew stuck in my throat. I became so anxious, I had to take a Benadryl. I tried to cough the piece up with no success. Eventually, my husband took me to Patient First. Following an x-ray and the PA’s confusion, it was determined that there was a foreign object in my throat and I needed to go to the ER for a bronchoscopy. The ER ordeal lasted until 5:15AM. A CT scan revealed no foreign object, but the sensation lasted. I was told it was a really bad scratch and all would heal. The next few weeks consisted of cautious eating. Basically, anything not totally pureed or soft and smothered in gravy would give me issues. There were a few really bad days, but none as good as before the injury. I’ve lost almost 10 pounds due to the poor nutrition I’m receiving. Last night, my dilemma was trouble breathing. Pain in my chest started after a few bites of mashed potatoes. I slept upright in my husband’s recliner.
The saddest part to me is not just the physical symptoms I’m dealing with incessantly, but the social side of things that I totally missed out on this holiday season. I didn’t even initiate gatherings with friends, because what do we do? We eat. We go to restaurants and eat and talk. That’s something I love to do, but aside from Tropical Smoothie, I don’t really have that luxury right now. It’s causing a lot of discouragement and borderline depression, since I am someone who loves food and cooking and entertaining and trying new restaurants.
So, if you’re reading this, I covet your prayers. I bounce between a hopeful outlook and the alarming suspicion that I am going to get a horrid diagnosis tomorrow. I feel deeply misunderstood, less than fulfilled, malnourished, and utterly helpless.
I realize that there are bigger problems in the world, and if you personally are dealing with far greater issues, I am so sorry. This, personally, is the greatest thing I’ve faced in a while and it’s taking a lot out of me.
In conclusion, my appointment with the specialist is tomorrow morning. So maybe things will improve shortly after. This coming Tuesday, I’ll meet with my counselor and I’m sure she’ll be a great deal of help at processing all of these difficult emotions.
I look forward to hopefully updating you that all is well, my recovery is in sight, and that I’ve received exceptional medical care.
‘Til then.
SARAH HARPER 