How to Ask for and Receive Help

It’s hard to ask for help, it may be even harder to need the help. But I do. I need it because tomorrow I'm having a big surgery, spinal fusion at eight levels. This surgery is both known and unknown to me. It’s my third fusion surgery, but my memories of the first two are vague. I remember they hurt a lot. The first was an emergency, so that was a terrorizing and traumatic blur. After the second, I couldn’t swallow solid foods for nearly six months; I remember that part more than anything else. Not being able to eat was awful—I really, really love to eat, especially fried foods.

Anyway, today I am striving to stay in a cautiously optimistic space. It is a wonder and a gift that this surgery is available to me. I have insurance that will pay for (most of) it and I have access to very talented doctors I come from a family of doctors to help me navigate those other doctors. If all goes well, I’ll regain the strength in my right hand and keep the strength in my left. I might even be able to hold my head up without the special backrest that I bring with me everywhere I go. I might be in less overall pain, possibly.

(I have to stop the happy thoughts there because if I think more about what my life would be like with less pain I get too excited. I’d have so much freaking energy. I could go grocery shopping without planning for recovery time. I could stand up to chit-chat at a party or wait in line at the bank. I could go dancing, maybe in high heels. I could sit in the horrible chairs to watch my kid get an award at the school assembly. Maybe, maybe, maybe)

I have thought about all of this before my previous spine surgeries, but because of my condition (hypermobility-type Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome), it has been my experience that fusion surgery, while keeping my spine stable, does not make my life much better. But maybe this time.

I am also trying to stay out of the dark place, where I think about pain and dependency and further disability and infection and death. But I wrote this at three o’clock in the morning; you can guess how well that’s going.

I have had so much to do but had a hard time concentrating—finish my taxes, update my advanced healthcare directive, wind down all my open work contracts, and figure out kid-care. But my mind kept wandering, and fighting the fear takes energy. In reality, I spent a lot of time staring into space.

Last week, my sister-in-law sat down with me to create a meal train website for people in my community to deliver food. So many people have offered to help. The minute they hear about the surgery they ask: What can I do? How can I help? I tend to thank them, nod and smile, then go about my business. But here I am, newly divorced, a consultant dependent on being able to work for my income, co-parenting two fabulous children. And I really, really, need the help.

These past few days I’ve been watching the sign-ups roll in on that site, and it makes my heart do funny things. At first, I was uncomfortable, and a little embarrassed. I had to walk away from my computer and stare into space. But then I reminded myself, this is love. This is my people showing up for me. I’m getting a little worried about where we will store all the food that’s coming in my tiny apartment refrigerator (note: this is a much more enjoyable worry than any of the ones listed above). I have help for driving my kid to soccer and frisbee, help to pay someone to come in and clean for a few months, and help with Jen-sitting to keep my spirits up. So much help. And love. And support.

We got this

Vonecia Carswell on Unsplash

It makes me feel held. Even now, in the darkest hour of the night, when I look at that website I don’t feel so alone. Instead of feeling ashamed, I’m deciding to feel insanely proud that I have built this community that is so willing and ready to surround me. I’m grateful and humbled, and deeply, deeply touched. Those are the emotions I’ll take with me into the operating room, and they are what will help me heal best, whatever that looks like. I know I’ve got this because so many of you have me and that makes me the luckiest person alive.