011608 - the third time

Chapter Ten
Back Down the Rabbit Hole

In 1993 I had the opportunity to train to become a surgical nurse and I jumped at the chance. I had always wanted to work in surgery, but the opportunity had never presented itself before. The training was intense and very stressful given my history of fear of doing new things.

Everything went along fairly smoothly until we came to the portion dealing with heart surgery. When I learned the whole procedure and what was involved it was like being transported back in time to the day of my father’s death. I remember being in the OR and seeing my dad on the table in place of the actual patient being there. I learned that when the patient is on the bypass machine, he is only under sedation. Everybody in the room speaks very quietly so as not to disturb the patient. I was really traumatized by this. I saw my dad’s last day from the inside of the OR and it was as if he died all over again.

I also discovered the surgeon who performed his surgery was still practicing and was very upset to learn how many people thought he was a terrible surgeon. There were just too many things to deal with and I felt like I was in a tail spin of renewed grief. I found myself second guessing things, thinking if only my dad had been alive in 1993 when he got sick then maybe he could have been saved. Without God in my life, I had no one to turn to and I became depressed all over again.

I finally came to realize nothing changed. My dad died when he was meant to die and I had to remember the surgeon being kind and caring and doing all he could for my dad. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the same anymore.

I finished the training and became a surgical nurse and worked in all areas of surgery. I was stressed out most of the time and I cried everyday for the first 5 years in the OR. The surgeons could be quite abusive and I didn’t know how to make them stop. I can’t believe I managed to stick with it, I guess my love for surgery outweighed all the stress.
After some time in surgery, I came to a point of not being able to deal with the stress. I found myself going to work and not speaking to anyone. If it weren’t for the patients I wouldn’t have spoken at all. This went on for several months and I realized I was in trouble and I went to see a physician and started taking antidepressants again. The doctors always suggest therapy as well, but I wanted no part of therapy. I couldn’t see how talking about all my problems could possibly help. Reliving every little detail of my life only led to unbearable pain and sadness and all I wanted to do was be happy. I already cried enough as it was.

After one month, the darkness lifted and things became somewhat manageable again. I found my voice again and realized I didn’t have to be abused at work. After all, I didn’t put up with abuse in my marriage.

I made a conscious decision to stay on medication for the rest of my life so I wouldn’t have to be depressed ever again. At least that is what I believed then.

I was still lonely and wanted to be loved, but was growing more and more convinced I couldn’t trust men because all they ever seemed to want from me was sex. I decided I didn’t need a man. I decided I’d rather be alone the rest of my life than risk being abused ever again.

Life continued in a sort of precarious state of instability. I was living in denial about so many things. My older son was still having emotional problems and I was still convinced he was okay. My sister told me how he threatened to slice his throat when he was around 8 years old? I have no memory of this event! Denial (self-deception) is a powerful thing. My way of dealing with life was to not deal with life.