If you thought you were just about to die and not come back, what would really matter to you?

As my clients will know, I had surgery on my inner-ear five weeks ago, for a condition called otosclerosis and subsequent hearing loss. 

 

The experience of having surgery in the public system and the successful outcome has been a very empowering and positive experience for me, and I am so glad I pushed for it and went ahead with it!

 

It wasn’t easy, though, and I had to do rather a lot to make it a viable option for me and the family. Here, I will share what I did, and what I learned. 

 

Alongside this, last week, my 5 year old and I attended the funeral of a good friend’s parent – it was my youngest’s first funeral experience. The combination of addressing my own vulnerability going through surgery, and supporting my friend as they went through this process of an unwell and then dying parent, brought a few stark realisations to the foreground for me, as only human-life fragility and the awareness of ultimate death can. We are all going to die one day. It’s uncontrollable and certain. The question is, what do you want to do with your life, and what really matters?

 

My story:

 

The thing that caused me the most anxiety about the surgery was the general anaesthetic.  I’d only ever had this once, 25 years before, when I didn’t really think about it too much. 

 

It was the loss of control, and the complete handing over of control to other people that I didn’t trust, that was troubling me. In short, the thought that went through my mind was that there was a chance I might not wake up. As a parent, your health and your life hold such a huge responsibility because you are so responsible for these other two young lives. Plus, I like to have a lot of influence on my kids and want to continue to do so – for as long as possible!

 

When I said goodbye at the school gate that morning, I watched them marching in together, holding hands, with their backpacks on and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. 

 

And you know what the most important things to me were at that moment? It was like a camera shot in a movie, zooming in on one thing which suddenly becomes clearly in focus:

 

  1. Do my children know that they are loved by me, no matter what?

 

The answer was: yes, they knew. 

 

And: 

 

2. Are my relationships with people meaningful, worthwhile and valuable?

 

The answer was, yes: it was clear I had a harem of people thinking about me that morning and sending me so many messages of love and courage and luck. I had two best friends there when I woke up. And I thought, no matter what, I’ve achieved something very rare and special: I am loved, and I love: I knew this beyond any doubt, and it felt like if that was all I would have achieved in this life, it would have been enough.

 

I had also achieved somewhat of a personal breakthrough that morning: dealing with my own  reluctance to hand over control. By using therapy tools on myself (for those that are familiar, Self Havening), I had an emotional breakthrough where I deeply realised that it was possible for me to hand over control, and trust the medical team (including TRUST was highly important!). I achieved a kind of surrender that morning, that was very necessary.

 

Then, I was calm. The experience in the hospital, with the surgeon and the two anaesthetists, and the caring nurses was all very positive. It was basically a laugh a minute until I was put to sleep! It all went so well I was allowed home that evening, instead of the planned overnight stay. I’ve never felt happier to see my husband and children in that hospital foyer! It’s a special memory for me now. (My husband asked me if I’d been rolling my head around to see what I could do with it; I said no, I have not done that!)

 

Another thing I’d  worked on with myself was mitigating a few key physical side-effects beforehand: dizziness and also how my body processed the anaesthesia. I have to say these were like miracle outcomes! I knew I’d done the work, but I was honestly still very pleasantly surprised.

 

The recovery has also held some very interesting insights: I had to take things very easy, no exercise, no bending over, lots of rest. I learned some important things here about self-care and radical re-prioritisation, which I will share in a later blog.

 

If you imagine going into a situation that holds a chance of not returning from, what would be the two things that would matter to you beyond anything else? Close your eyes and actually imagine it. It might hold some very meaningful insights for you.

My recent experience has changed me and for that I’m incredibly grateful. More to come.