Growing Up with Illness

[Guest guest]

was 10 weeks old when I first had to have surgery after she was

born. I was breastfeeding, and had pumped enough milk for 6 weeks,

even though it was to be only a 5-10 day hospital stay. I had noone

to help look after her whilst I was in hospital. My husband had to

work, and his family lived too far away,and those that could spare

the time,didn't want to be away from their spouse then. That kind of

hurt me, and my life had been turned upside down by this pancreatitis

and the precancerous polyps the doctors had found, let alone

suffering the baby blues and the thought of having to be separated

from my little girl for a few days.

In the end, luck showed it's face to me, and my mother flew all the

way to the USA from Australia to be with me. She cared for my

daughter each day and night, and brought her in to visit me every day

that I was in hospital. Unfortunately, I developed severe infections

that put me in hospital for a further 3 weeks, and was on medications

that sapped me of my strength and made me vomit, every day and night

for 3 months after that. I also was not able to breast feed until I

had finished the medication, so after the frozen milk was used up, I

had to put my girl on formula. Not a disaster at all, but it hurt me

because that was not what I had in my big plan.

But I still pumped every 6 hours, every day for the next 4 months to

keep up my milk supply. By the time I was able to go back to

breastfeeding , I didn't have enough to satisfy her fully, so I

gave her what I could and then eventually stopped altogether.

Then the pancreatitis hit me again after a 3 month break. Mum had

already gone back 3 weeks before, and a lady at a branch of our

church whom my mum had become friends with offered to look after my

daughter during my next hospital stay.

Then the attacks got worse, and my mother again flew over to be with

me for help. She came with me to Indiana to see Dr Lehman, from TN,

to Nashville to see doctors there, and never complained for the 3

months she was away from her husband. She also had to be stoic on a

flight from TN back to Australia when the planes first started flying

again after the 9/11 attacks. She was very brave in my opinion.

Then the worst happened. My attacks started happening every two

weeks. I had to beg my sister in law to come down and help me at home

with because I was in hospital more than at home,and

financially, we couldn't afford my husband to take any more time off

work. She finally succumbed, and came down to help out.

In January, I was admitted to hospital and again my mother came over

when the surgery was discussed. I was in hospital for 2 months. Mum

brought my 20 month old daughter in every day for a visit, and the

hospital let me home for an hour or so on days that I was able. Then

I had to ask mum not to torture my baby any more. She was beginning

to hate the hospital. Screaming as mum would walk down the corridor

to my room, not wanting to come near me if she'd stay in my room. It

broke my heart, but I felt it was breaking her heart more.

I also had my husband complaining about the doctors not knowing what

was wrong, and not being able to fix me, and all the carer's anger

and concerns hurting him.

From there I was taken by ambulance to Nashville for the 4 hour

drive, for my Whipple that never happened for reasons that would have

compromised my life.

My little girl and mother had tied yellow ribbons around the trees at

the entrance to our drive and painted a huge sign saying " Welcome

Home Mummy, We Love You and have Missed you Dearly " . I did have

tears in my eyes by then.

I still was in and out of hospital after that, but my daughter was

getting a bit older, and began enjoying going up to her cousins'

place to stay when noone wanted to come to our place to look after

her anymore, as the frequency was too often. It was still hard to

listen to her cries as we dropped her off and left her there. But my

heart lifted when I'd call when I got to the hospital to check on her

and be told that within a few minutes of us leaving, she had

stoppedcrying and was playing with toys and having fun.

The next hurdle was getting her to come to my doctor's visits with

me. We'd walk into a waiting room and it was..Come on Mummy, Let's

go...with tears, and sometimes screaming, pulling at my hand and

clothes, not wanting to see a doctor...but I had no choice but to

bring her with me.

Now, she has gotten a bit older, she doesn't get bothered going to

the doctor's offices, or visiting me in hospital anymore. I guess

that is part of forgetting what happened at the tender age of 20

months, or accepting it as the normalcy at the age of 3.

My newest hurdle is explaining to her how I can be sick but still be

around to love her and watch her grow up..after she has been told

that the person on tv, or a family member was sick and went to

Heaven. I can see in her eyes when i've said mummy is sick today,

that she starts to panic a bit...and wonder how do I differentiate it

for her. I'll work that one out eventually. I am just greatful that

she seems to have forgotten the past, or has started to understand

about mummy having been sick all these years, and hope I do not have

to become a burden to her in the future.