Pouchoscopy

June 21, 2010

I had one of my frequently reocurring dreams the other night. It's one where I'm back in college. There is this time warp thing happening so that it's simultaneously the mid-90's and the present time. The time warp creates this kind of anxious confusion for me. I'm not exactly sure what I should be doing. I'm trying to settle into a dorm room in some type of hostile environment which makes settling impossible. I'm keenly aware of the fact that I need to get my mail, only I get lost trying to find my mail box and I worry that I'm going to get in trouble because there are months worth of mail waiting for me. I get lost trying to move my clothes from some unknown location to my dorm room. And then there's Jeremy. All of a sudden I realize he's not with me and so none of this can be right. And I don't know how to get to him, but I know that I need to be with him.

I hate that dream. I hate it. I wake up all anxious and feeling guilty for some reason too. I look over at Jeremy sleeping next to me. It was just a dream Abby. Just a dream. Friday morning before we left for my dilation we took Django for a walk. And as we walked, we talked about Harper. We talked about the guilt we both have felt over everything that happened. Guilt is a normal part of grief and loss. It's a part of the process that can really mess you up too. We talked to each other about how we handled our own respective guilt and reflected to each other how we viewed the other's guilt. There has been this balance we have had to find as we go through the healing process together, a balance of separateness and togetherness. There are times that we desperately need to know we are in this thing together, and other times where we need to acknowledge how individual both of our experiences are. Yesterday's conversation was a beautiful mixture of both.

As I laid on the gurney with the IV in my arm, I looked up at Jeremy standing out of the nurse's way. I saw his blond eyebrows. They always remind me of Harper. We heard a voice in the bay area next to ours. Jeremy mouthed the name of a doctor. I smiled and nodded. Dr. C. He was with us through it all. He was a fellow who worked with Dr. I. I can't see Dr. C without remembering him sitting in my room with my mom and me on the labor and delivery floor. They had already started to induce my labor. It was dark outside. He sat next to my bed with a defeated look on his face. He told me we could have another baby. I knew he said that because he wanted to make everything better. His bottom lip quivered with emotion as he talked with mom and me.

The dilation went well. I actually didn't need to be dilated. And even better than that, Dr. T said everything looked really good. She said the enemas I started in January were making a big difference for me, she could tell. She also said she eventually wanted me to have the revision surgery. (Why I don't know. She talked to Jeremy about it while I was in recovery, so I didn't to ask questions and I don't think he got into that with her.) So while this is great news, I'm still confused about all the pain I was in last week. The pain is gone now though, so I guess I'll take it as a blessing. I would have had to have the procedure done in August anyway for my annual exam, so even though the dilation wasn't necessary, the scoping served a purpose.

Thanks for your well wishes and good thoughts. That's the word for now.