"Can you believe that Trump has come this far? I mean really. I never thought I'd see the day." The imagery radiologist surgeon said to his peer.
"Seriously? Is this really the last conversation I have to witness before I go? I'm so tired. I just want them to let me sleep. I'm just going to rest for a while..." This was my thought as I lay on the radiology table as the surgeons cut into my femoral artery in order to stop the bleeding.
"Ok Abbey, time to take another breath, and hold it for 30 seconds. Ready, ok, and breath...and hold" the surgeon broke in on my deep peaceful rest, again.
I recall feeling so tired. I just wanted to go. Go rest. Go be. Go away. I had just held my twins for what must have been an hour or so before the doctor implied that if they did not stop my bleeding soon, it could be very bad. I recall overhearing the doctor telling my mom and husband that I need to head to IR for an ablation surgery or I could bleed out. Somewhere in there he said the word "hysterectomy" as an option. It was all a blur. I was too tired to care. I didn't want to leave my babies, even though they were gone, but it really was life or death.
I was wheeled down what seemed like endless corridors from one hospital to another. Apparently, IR is pretty amazing because it saves lives of those who have been in terrible car accidents, etc. If we had been in any other small hospital, I could have died or have to have the hysterectomy.
I was placed on the IR table and told they would be cutting my leg, my femoral artery in order to stop the bleeding. I was in such a state of oblivion and peace that I just nodded. I think. I could barely keep my eyes open as I was losing consciousness from so much blood loss. I just wanted to sleep. I recall at one point the nurse saying to the doctor, "her vitals are dropping. This is not good." I thought, "wow, that poor person" not even realizing they were speaking of me.
If I'm being really honest, I could have gone at that point, it felt so right. I just wanted to be with my boys, I wanted that peace again. But something told me it wasn't time, I needed to keep trying to do as the doctor told me. So I did.
After the surgery, I hardly remember being wheeled back to the other delivery hospital, but what I do remember was the complete and udder desperation I felt as I entered the room where I had delivered my sons, that this was my reality, a reality I did not want to face.
