Surgeries, Surgeries, Surgeries (And More Surgeries)

On the first day of surgery my surgeon said to me.... something in French that I didn't understand and I realized I should just relax and let the medication take effect. 

Little did I know, this surgery would be the first of many. 

It all started when I was about 6 years old. I was on a mini soccer team and my ankles had started to roll. Like a lot. My shoulders also were loosey goosey and would pop in and out of socket, especially when I swam. So, my doctor put me into physical therapy and said I was just "double jointed" and "extra flexible". 

I remember being at physical therapy and the therapist knew more than she let on. She said, "you will have to do physical therapy for the rest of your life". That shook my world as a mere 6-year-old. 

And she was right.

Jump to when I was 16 and playing volleyball in high school. One day after practice I noticed my ankles hurting and they were really swollen. Like, "you have heart failure and have eaten too much salt" swollen. So, I started physical therapy again and when that didn't work, I was referred to an ankle surgeon. He suggested surgery so surgery was scheduled. At the time, I was the main pianist for a youth choir that was putting on a huge production. Like, a 3-night event. It had been a dream of mine since I was 12 to be the pianist for this show so it was kind of a big deal to me. Turns out, my surgery was scheduled during performance times. So, I would have to miss two of the three nights because of the surgery. Oh ya, and my poor Grandma died around that time too so I had to make the choice of either going to her funeral (which was on the one and only night I would be able to perform) or show up for the production I had practiced for months for. I chose to perform, because that is what my grandma would have wanted. I still remember that night. We got a standing ovation and I was given a couple bouquets of flowers. It was amazing, to say the least. 

My surgery went well, and I remember laying on my couch that night going through each song in my head as if I were there at the production. I adjusted to crutches pretty well and I continued on with my Junior year. (Did I mention I legitimately dropped out of high school for a month before my first surgery? It would be too hard to play catch-up in my AP classes with me out for so long, so I dropped out and when I went back it was through the hybrid school that pregnant teens go to.) So, a long 6 weeks later, I got my hard cast removed. The surgeon moved my ankle around and tested the tightened ligament. 

His face fell. 

He then proceeded to tell me that I had a 30% chance of needing another surgery because it was looser than he expected. My left ankle was scheduled for February so if I had to have another surgery, it would have to be after that. February came and went along with that left ankle surgery. A 30% chance became a 100% chance and my re-do right ankle surgery was scheduled in May. Surgery #3 came, and my right ankle was once again tightened. 

4 weeks later I had surgery #4, jaw reconstruction. I remember waking up in the critical care unit with my head feeling like a bowling ball and not being able to breathe. My mouth was wired shut via my braces (except for a tiny slit in my back teeth where I would be able to get liquids down) and because they took bone out of my sinuses, my nose was completely clogged with blood. I couldn't breathe. It was a terrifying experience. 

I was wired shut for 6 weeks, drinking for all of my meals. I was still in my hard cast from ankle surgery so I literally could not walk, talk, or eat. (I don't even wish that on my husband's old girlfriends)

My next surgery ended up being a scar tissue removal in my right ankle my senior year (#5) and that summer I had a breast reduction (#6) Best. Surgery. Ever! Well, not really... I lost so much blood I needed a transfusion and had to stay at the hospital longer than expected BUT it was so liberating! I felt the need to lie to my friends about it at the time (who knows what goes on in an 18-year-old girl's head) and here I am writing for all of the internet to read. I lost 7 pounds that day and people finally looked me in the eyes when talking to me. 

I went off to college with a new face and figure and for once in my life I felt confident in my own skin. 

It was in my early 20's that we finally figured out I had a connective tissue disorder. This is why my ankle surgeries kept failing; my DNA was meant to be stretched out. 

Fast forward a bunch of years when I got married and had two babies and moved to Blanding, UT. Shortly after Kyler (my second) was born, my right ankle started to act up again and it was determined that I needed another surgery. This was probably my favorite one, and not because the surgery was awesome but because I was able to receive a cadaver ligament. How cool is that?! Someone decided to donate their body, and I was able to receive the best gift from them, because my connective tissues were not cooperating. I was even able to write to the family of this person and give my thanks. Because of their decision to donate, I would be able to walk without pain, and not only be able to take care of my family, but also attend nursing school where I would be able to give back to the world. 

Also while in Blanding, I had surgery #8, a uterine ablation, where they basically go in a fry away a couple layers of uterine tissue so my periods didn't have to be so bad and I would hopefully stop battling with anemia. 

Fast forward again to 2021. We had lived in Idaho for about a year when they found a tear in my hip labrum. Surgery #9 fixed that. 

The next year I was scheduled for a hysterectomy. (In a different post I'll write about why we decided to stop at two kiddos.) At this point I had grown so accustomed to pain that I didn't know something was wrong until I woke up from surgery. The surgeon informed me that what was supposed to be a straightforward removal of the uterus turned into a major clean-out of endometriosis. It was wrapped around my bowel, my ovaries, and my bladder so badly that he had to call in two other surgeons to come and help him. The surgery lasted an hour and a half longer than expected and I came out with two extra incisions and only one ovary (the other one was unsavable because of how badly it had been enveloped.) 

February of the next year I started working at the main trauma hospital again and nine months later I had my left shoulder tightened (#11). 

 I got back to work after 4 months and was back on track to applying for CRNA school that Fall of '24 when in April, I tripped, dislocated my right shoulder and tore my labrum. 

I hit 6 weeks post-op from surgery #12 this week. 

You know when you're young and your teachers ask what your future might look like? I never imagined mine would look like this, but here I am. 

Despite all the setbacks, I am so incredibly lucky to have the life I do. I am able to walk, I am able to talk, and I absolutely love to eat. 

We cannot know nor understand what someone else is going through, nor is it our job to fully comprehend. I believe what we can and should do is listen and love. Listen with love. Let them know they are not alone. 

Someone will always have it worse than us. It's not about comparison, it's about compassion. And I hope we all can have a little more of that. 

Sam