Grief Storms

We don’t expect them. It’s kinda like living in the Cariboo.

Wait 15 mins, the weather will change.

I had a grief storm in a most unexpected place yesterday.

I have this cyst in my axilla (armpit). Last year it blew up and got infected and I was off work and on IV antibiotics for 10 days. This was a couple weeks after my kid had brain surgery.

Well. The fucker grew back. Within 6 months I could feel it there again.

So I asked for, and got, a referral to a surgeon (Dr M) who said I could remove it or wait and see if it blows up again.

I’m all for the get rid of the problem. A dog that bites will bite again. A cyst that gets infected will again. Or not. But I don’t want to take that chance.

So yesterday.

Yesterday I’m in a stretcher, Dr. M is there, he has a medical student and I ask, “Are you going to let the student do something?”

Yes, yes he will. She’s super grateful.

Dr. M completes the removal. I’m awake through the whole thing. It’s a small cyst. Turns out it was 2 small cysts. Both gone. YAY!!

Dr. M does one stitch, explains to the student how to do the rest (2 of them) and leaves. All is well.

She says to me again that she’s super grateful I let her practice.

I say back, “You’re never gonna get any better if you don’t practice”

And boom. Grief storm.

Because 8 1/2 years ago I said that to a 1st year resident. “You’re never gonna get better if you don’t practice” when he was having a hard time getting an ART line on Mark. Mark couldn’t feel it. Mark didn’t know the difference. And Mark was a good practice subject because he was a difficult start. It took the 4th year resident 7 tries to get the ART line.

So boom. Grief storm.

While I’m laying on a table and a cute medical student going into internal medicine (she thinks) was doing 2 or 3 stitches in my armpit.

There may have been tears. They may have snuck out. I’m grateful she assumed they were related to what she was doing. I didn’t want to have to explain.

This is the thing when you’re 8 1/2 years out. Now it’s about explaining. Especially in a town where everyone knows RyanandJane not MarkandJane.

Explain to someone why you’re crying over something that shouldn’t bring you to tears. A stupid phrase. A few words of encouragement. And I’m standing in that ICU with that resident close to the end of my husband’s life.

Ryan is amazing. He listened to me when I told him about it. He loved me through it.

My throat still hurts though, the unshed tears, the unspoken words, the grief storm that I was forced to swallow because I wasn’t in a place I could cry.

I’m working through a bunch of things with my counselor. They all seem to sit in my throat. The grief, the sadness, the anger, the unspoken words… they all sit there and choke me because I don’t know how to let them go.

Grief storms suck.
But grief storms that are stuck suck worse.