Going to the doctor became a normal thing when I was younger. As I got older my parents questioned the doctors more every time. Every doctor we went to told my parents that “It’s nothing serious. She’ll eventually grow out of it.” The fact that they weren’t right disappointed me tremendously.
I was born with a small bump behind my ear that kept growing as I grew. We didn’t know the cause of it and the doctors thought nothing of it. We eventually found out that I was born with a cystic hygroma. For those of you who don’t know, a cystic hygroma is a birth defect that creates a growth that can be present in the head and/or neck area. It starts out as a small bulge under the skin and grows as the child grows. My cystic hygroma was in the neck area, specifically behind my ear. By the age of seven it was sitting on my shoulder as a huge mass.
January 2004…
“So Tiffany, I see it says that you came in because your ear has been hurting a lot lately.” my doctor says as he sits down.
“Yes sir. I’ve been having really sharp pain.”
He rolls over to me. “Let me take a look.” He presses in certain areas, “Does that hurt?”
“Yes.” I say in extreme pain.
“Well, the tumor is definitely big enough to remove and since its bothering you so much we’ll go ahead and schedule surgery.”
“Um, how serious will the surgery be?” says my mother with a worried look on her face.
“Well, it’s a huge mass and there are a lot of facial nerves involved with this surgery; but we’ll be able to remove it without causing major damage to anything. The thing that will probably affect her most is some hearing loss. On the other hand, the surgery will take a long time and although we will remove it, there is a chance the tumor will come back in the future.”
“Why is that?” asks my mother.
“We won’t be able to remove all of the cells from the tumor; a cystic hygroma is known to reoccur even after removal. On the bright side, this surgery will be the most difficult one just because of the size. The future removals, if any are needed, will be minor.”
“Okay, so when do you think you’ll be able to do the surgery?” asks my mother.
He looks at me as he thinks. “Actually, before we do the surgery, I want to try to reduce the size of the tumor as much as possible. The treatments should take about six months, two injections every month. We’ll schedule the surgery for July 16th, how does that sound?”
“That sounds good.” says my mother as she’s still processing everything.
My doctor smiles at me and tells me he’s going to take care of everything and I’ll be recovered in no time. I give him a half smile back as I say “Okay” worried as can be. He schedules another appointment the following week to go into more detail about the surgery.
December 2009…
I’m slowly waking up, from my third surgery, but with my eyes still closed. As my senses kick back in, the pain in my neck intensifies quickly. I hear the nurse tell my parents and sister that they can come over to see me. As they lean over and start talking, my vision becomes clear and I can’t help but just look at them. I’m in so much pain, too much to even crack a smile or move my face in any way. By the look on my mother’s face, I can tell she wishes she could once again take my place and endure all the pain instead of me. The anesthesia hasn’t worn off fully and I’m still…
July 2004…
Bright and early in the morning, it’s the day of my very first surgery. I’m sitting, crying left and right worried about dying, and scared as ever. We’re the only ones in the waiting room and my parents keep telling me that there’s nothing to worry about and everything is going to be okay. Sure they’re telling the truth but all I can think of is the worst. I zone in and out while they're talking to me. Their words are going in one ear and out the other, none sticking whatsoever. At this point I want to tell them to shut up, nothing is going to calm me down. “Tiffany White.” We look over at the door and there stands the nurse with a smile on her face. We get up and make our way towards her, following closely behind her to the room.
October 2006…
“Well mom, I’m glad this one isn’t as serious as the first surgery.” I say happily.
“I know right... That first one, man it was rough.” says my mother with a sigh.
“Yeah, I bet it was hard for you guys waiting hours and hours for me to come out of surgery.”
“Yeah, it was.” says my mother as the door swings open.
“Hello, how are you guys?” says the nurse with a smile.
“We’re good.” says my mother.
“Okay Tiffany, I’m going to put in your IV for the surgery.”
“Okay.” I say as I hold my arm out for her.
The nurse gets all of the materials ready, puts the rubber band around my arm, feels for a vein, “Pump your fist.” and then cleans the area. “Be really still...”
I feel a little sting and the pain goes away. The nurse then tapes the IV in place and tells me to try not to move or bend my arm too much between now and the surgery.
December 2009…
“Alright baby, I’ll see you when you get out. Love you.” says my mother as she gives me a hug.
“Love you too.”
My sister reaches out for a hug. “See you soon little sis, I’ll be here when you get out. Love you.”
“Okay. Love you too.”
“We’ll see you soon, baby girl. Be a soldier. Love you.” says my father as he reaches out to hug me.
“Ha. Love you too.”
I take a deep breath and my heart starts racing. Feeling as if its going to jump out of my chest at any moment and land on the floor. I can hardly breath as I start walking into the operating room. An even colder rush of air hits me hard. The assistants signal me to the area, I get onto the operating table and lay back. The assistants then begin to attach the monitor cords to me. With each placement I feel a cold sensation and it feels as if my heart rate is getting faster every second. Regardless of the fact that it’s not the first time going through this, I still get a little nervous. I notice they’re getting close to finishing, so I begin to pray one last time knowing that they’re about to give me anesthesia…
September 2006…
My mom and I are engaged in conversation while we’re waiting for my doctor to come in. A few minutes go by and the door opens.
“Hello, how are you today?”
“Good and you?” my mother and I say at the same time.
“I’m great! Okay, so Tiffany, have you been having any pain?”
“Yes sir, but it’s not major pain.”
I sit there for a moment trying to grasp my mind around the fact that he was right about the tumor coming back. I was hoping that the first one would have been my last one, but I guess not.
December 2009…
I hear faint voices. “Tiffany… Tiffany.”
“Huh?” I look to my right, “I mean ma’am.” as I realize it's my nurse.
“Are you having any pain?” says my nurse while holding a syringe with pain medicine in it.
“Yes ma’am.” I say slowly in pain.
She grabs my IV and gets ready to inject the medicine. “Okay, I’m going to go ahead and give you another dose of your pain medicine.”
“Okay.”
“I think scars are like battle wounds - beautiful, in a way. They show what you've been through and how strong you are for coming out of it.” – Demi Lovato
Wow, I really like this! I felt like I could really understand the emotions you were describing. Great job :)
ReplyDeleteGreat job! I feel as though I was right there with you during your surgeries. That had great descriptive details.
ReplyDeleteI love this, it felt like I was there. Great details.
ReplyDeleteI love the way you did the transitions. This was definitely eye opening. The quote at the end was a beautiful edition. I thoroughly enjoyed this!
ReplyDelete