An Angel By My Side
Several months ago, I caught my foot on a crack in the sidewalk. As soon as I realized I was falling, I broke my fall using my right arm and landed hard on the concrete. I immediately heard an audible pop. Pain quickly shot through my right shoulder and down my right arm. By the next morning, I couldn’t lift my arm because my arm was unbelievably weak. The pain in my right shoulder was intense, like a knife was permanently stuck in it. I decided, however, not to go to the doctor, assuming I’d get better over time. I accepted my condition and carried on as normally as possible, frequently using my left arm instead of my right, administering analgesic creams to my right arm and shoulder, and taking over-the-counter pain relievers. But the pain and weakness intensified, eventually disturbing my sleep.
After four months, I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t improving and sought the advice of an orthopedic specialist.
“The symptoms you’re describing sound like a torn rotator cuff,” she suggested.
“Are you sure?” I asked, disbelief creeping into my voice.
“The only way I’ll know for sure is with an MRI of your shoulder. Here,” she said handing me some paperwork, “take this order to the imaging facility across the street. You can have your MRI done today.”
“Today?”
“Yes, today. No need to wait,” she answered in a deliberate voice. “Come back tomorrow, and I’ll discuss the results with you.”
I returned to her office the following day; together we looked at the scan. “You see this tear here,” she said, pointing to a rather lengthy tear on my rotator cuff. You can either have surgery immediately to repair it or wait and have a cortisone shot in your shoulder to reduce the pain and give the tear time to heal which is highly unlikely.”
My fear of surgery took hold, and I quickly chose the second option. Within a week, my pain diminished significantly convincing me that I was healing. However, six weeks later the pain returned with a vengeance.
“You’ll need to see my colleague, Dr. Markman, an orthopedic surgeon, the sooner the better,” she advised when I consulted with her over the phone.
The following day I found myself sitting next to Dr. Markman as he reviewed the MRI. I watched his eyes, noting the slight change in his facial expression and demeanor, dreading the inevitable. “You need rotator cuff surgery,” he said candidly. “I’ll schedule your surgery for next month. The hospital will be in touch with details,” he continued, leaving the exam room before I could ask the sudden rush of questions racing through my mind.
His assistant measured my arm for the post-surgery sling and shoulder immobilizer. “The surgeon will put this on you after surgery,” he explained. “You’ll wear it 24/7 for six weeks, even while sleeping. Remove it only to shower and to complete physical therapy,” he emphasized. “Use your left arm and hand for everything. Don’t lift, twist, bend, or otherwise move your right arm or shoulder. Do you understand?”
I merely nodded yes, too stunned to speak.
“Do you want a morning or afternoon surgery time?” he asked rather matter-of-factly as if I was scheduling a routine manicure or hair appointment.
My brain stuttered for a moment while my thoughts caught up with me. “Uh…morning,” I stammered. “…the first surgery of the morning. I don’t want to wait all day.”
“Seven a.m. it is. The hospital and the anesthesiologist will reach out to you a week before surgery.” He escorted me out of the exam room. “You may message me through the patient portal with any questions you may have,” he said handing me his business card with the portal information on the back.
Questions? Of course, I had questions—gazillions of them.. Since I’d never had surgery, I spent the weeks before surgery incessantly worrying, curious about the answers to the questions mounting in my mind: What will surgery be like? Will my throat hurt after the anesthesologist removes the breathing tube? How will I react to anesthesia? Will I be nauseous after surgery? How can I possibly sleep in that sling? How will I cope with long-term pain and being dependent upon my husband 24/7 for six weeks? Are we up for this challenge?
All of those questions and more swirled around in my head keeping me awake at night. When I did sleep, I had a lot of vivid dreams. In one dream, I saw a trapped bird and heard it frantically flapping its wings in a panic. That’s the way I felt—trapped, helpless, and afraid. In the weeks prior to surgery, I became increasingly restless, agitated, anxious, and terrified. I consulted a psychiatrist who prescribed an anxiety medication to calm me and a sleep aid to regulate my sleep.
The days and weeks painstakingly passed by until the surgery date finally arrived. All I remember of that day is being driven to the hospital, putting on a hospital gown, lying down on a guerney then being wheeled to the operating room. I woke up hours later, nausea-free without any recollection of the actual operating room, the anesthesia, or the surgery. As promised, my bandaged right arm was in a sling with a thick, cumbersome, restrictive shoulder immobilizer.
Once home, I was helpless, incapable of using my right arm and hand for even the basics like eating, brushing my teeth, showering, dressing myself, etc. Sleep alluded me; pain, silent as grenades, was my constant companion. I thought I’d feel the knives in my shoulder and arm forever, the long blades slicing into my sensitive flesh. Some days I existed as a matter of will power not having enough emotional energy to read the books on my nightstand. Every day was a battle between losing hope and having faith in healing and physical therapy.
One painful, sleepless night, I awoke with the sense of someone sitting beside me holding my hand and comforting me. I looked around, but no one was there—not even my husband. I fell back to sleep but quickly awakened, this time to the sensation of someone rubbing my hair, stroking my right shoulder, and hugging me. I sat up and looked around. No one was physically there, but the feeling that someone or something was there was real, powerful, and calming. For weeks, I frequently awakened feeling the same loving, reassuring embrace.
The warmth, reassurance, encouragement, and love I received came from what I believe was my guardian angel hugging me. It stayed by my side as I recovered and healed, transforming and strengthening me and giving me the courage to alleviate my dependence on pain medication, anxiety meds, and sleep aids. I’ve long since recovered from my surgery, but my guardian angel remains with me, especially when I’m concerned or troubled. I awaken during those restless nights and again feel my guardian angel by my side hugging me and assuring me with a soft, soothing embrace.
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