I sit naked, with only the gown on waiting to be called to the operating room I am reminded of how many times I have been through this. The nurses, the doctors, are all kind and have looks of bewilderment, amazement, and apprehensive when the see and realize that this is my 122 surgery on my trachea.

Getting off the gerny onto the metal operating table that is tiny and looks more like a torture device than a healing one I struggle to get on the table. There are 20 people in the operating room not including myself. Each one pulling on a part of my body and asking me to do something. It’s a bit overwhelming and I try to do the actions they want me to do. While I wait for my doctor to come in I have been hooked to the blood pressure cuff, hooked to the drugs that will knock me out, have the oxygen ET finger on, the squeezing leg warmers on both of my legs, and medication injected into my part that is suppose to help me relax. It doesn’t. Instead I feel this burning sensation on my port. I try to scream, but I couldn’t because of the oxygen mask on my face. But one of the men who I think was a nurse holding my hand saw my face and asked me if I was in pain. I shook my head and pointed to where. The technician didn’t expect that. He injected something to help with the pain, it slowly subsided. My favorite ENT finally walks into the operating room. He looks me directly into my eyes and said I will take care of you. I mouth, I know you will. Thank you. That is when the medication that is to knock me out is suppose to knock me out. It didn’t. We waiting ten minutes. That is when the technician discovered that my port is not working. I think oh great, now what could go wrong. That is when I feel all these hands from my feet to my head poking looking for a vein. I get poked three times. Twice in my foot. On the third poke a vein has accepted the IV. The pain is tremendous and I hope I never have to be awake for an IV in my feet again. After that my doctor takes my trach tube out and put the incubator into my stoma. That hurts a bit but not as bad as the burning in my or the IV in my feet.

I wake up from my sleep with someone yelling for me to breath. Not a pleasant way to wake up. After awhile I am taken to my room where I get a chance to look at the new tube that is in my stoma and learning why I am not able to use my voice anymore. It’s ugly. A big giant, hole in the middle of my throat seeping, bleeding, and hurting. I slept off and on all night. I try to eat jello and drink juice since I hadn’t eaten since midnight the day before. It was almost 8 PM. I was in the recovery area a long time. I’m awake. Boy am I awake.

I have lost my voice. I no longer will be able to talk. I have to write, point, and act like a toddler who doesn’t know how to communicate to the adults in language skills. I feel deflated by this. I’m angry, sad, humbled, hurting, mourning, and a few other emotions that I cannot name at this moment. I have only been home from my adventure 6 days. So far, I have had several people treat me like I am deaf and don’t bother talking to me just tap me. I have had the impatient eye roll because it is slower time of communication because I have to write down my words. I’ve been hugged, I appreciate those a lot. Then of course, I have those who don’t know what to say because they cannot imagine or comprehend what it feels like. I get that.

Recently I read a great book by Tom Holladay about Nehemiah when he rebuilt Jerusalem. I’m on step one, where I mourn my loss and pray. Then I want to worship. I want those who are my support to worship God with me.  What is one of your favorite worship songs?