The dark side of OHS

 Many people choose to skip over the dark side of major illness such as Cancer or when a heart is failing and OHS is required.  Depression and anxiety accompany many on this journey.  It sits with us long after the surgery, long after the physical healing is complete.

I have been plagued with depression for most of my life.  I became a master at masking.  I learned this art when I was very young.  It has been my survival tool to protect those I love around me.  I must protect those around me from sadness, pain, feeling helpless at all cost.

I have been to the edge as I call it many times in my life.  The edge being suicide.  Thankfully, that desire to protect my loved ones and friends always pulled me back from the edge.

Anti-depressants help tremendously.  It is frustrating being on these (I am a writer.  Anti-depressants block that creativity.  I haven’t written seriously for many years) especially knowing I will need to up the dosage as I near the surgery date.  I know, as I do preparing for every surgery that the dark clouds will descend.  They usually descend fast and hard like a thunderstorm on the prairie.  It wakes the dragon inside.  

Dragon being doubt I will survive.  Doubt that I won’t feel better after surgery.  Sadness that a piece of cow or pig will be used to fix my heart.  Sadness at the thousands of dogs used to prefect open heart surgery.

This time around, the sad realization that this will be my last OHS and each valve replacement lasts 10-12 years.  What then?  I start going into heart failure until I die of a heart attack.  I will be 55-57 years old.

On simpler terms, depression about not being able to help after surgery for months.  The depression of not being able to drive for at least 6 weeks.  How will I get to Dells to have coffee with my friends? Depression at not being able to rough house and give love to my dogs like I usually do.  Depression that I can’t lay in bed with my husband or on my side for that matter until my sternum heals.  Depression that I won’t be able to hold and carry my granddaughter or friend’s daughter for months.

I love human touch.  I love hugs.  Depression that I can’t give hard hugs for many months.

Most say it’s all a small sacrifice for living.  This is true but that dark place is so very dark.

I also love control.  I have to have control.  OHS requires you to give up that control.  I must rely on others to help me all the time.  I have no control of where I can go, when I want to go.  I feel like a burden.

I know it all will pass.  I’ll survive surgery, healing will happen and life will get back to normal but the journey is rough and long.

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