The night before surgery: Grounded and hopeful

The big day is tomorrow. I am in a very good place and feel ready for the surgery. Strangely, I am not as anxious about this surgery as I have been about previous ones. Sure, I am a bit nervous about what my recovery will entail, but I feel very grounded. I figure I will just take it a day at a time and see what happens. Those in my renal cell carcinoma support group have had different recovery paths, so it is hard to determine what mine will look like. 


What has really helped me feel comfortable about this surgery is that I seriously have an amazing medical team. I will have two surgeons working on me tomorrow. Those in my support group were impressed that I have two surgeons instead of just one. I have also been working with a Somatic Experiencing practitioner to help me prepare for the surgery. Through our work together, I was able to calm my nervous system. This practitioner referred me to this great resource by Lael Keen focusing on somatic healing in the OR and afterwards. Be sure to review all five parts. I shared this resource with my lead surgeon, who agreed to do some of the recommendations in the operating room and develop a pain management protocol that I feel comfortable with. 


There is one thing I am uncertain about: will the sign language interpreter be qualified? I developed a connection with iNova's interpreter services office two months ago and wanted someone I had worked with before, but unfortunately, they failed to honor that request. I will find out tomorrow morning if the interpreter is good. Her name is nowhere on the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf's (RID) listing or on the Board for Evaluation of Interpreters (BEI) registry. I was stressed out yesterday when I learned who my interpreter would be. My husband told me to focus on my surgery and recovery and let him do the fighting for communication access at the hospital. I agreed to that. I just hope he is not put in a position where he has to interpret for me. And he is not a Deaf interpreter! That's one setback of being deaf. I just want to be the patient, and he can be my husband. That's it. We fight for access on a daily basis. 


Even though I am feeling grounded, I am also somewhat hungry. I have been on a clear liquid diet since this morning's breakfast. I can only have water, apple juice, or tea. That breakfast was the last meal I would have until they confirmed that what remains of my right kidney is functioning after the partial nephrectomy.


My hospital bag is packed. My dog is away at a farm where she loves to run. I have eight library books checked out. I am done with work for now and am looking forward to being away from it for a while. The bed has fresh, clean sheets. Tonight I will take my final bath for a few weeks, and then I have to shower with the hospital-issued cleansing agent. Tomorrow morning, I have to shower with it again before I head to the hospital. 


This is a letter I composed to my kidney. I wrote a farewell letter to my uterus the night before my surgery back in 2015. It’s a good exercise, in my own humble opinion. 


To the kidney on the right side: 


I want to thank you for triggering a mysterious pain that took me to the emergency room on March 30th. While the cause of this pain was not found, it called attention to the renal cell carcinoma tumor living in you. 


Tomorrow morning, Drs. Abedali and Holt will be working in tandem, along with others in the operating room, to carefully remove the tumor. The bottom part of you will be removed. This is needed to ensure clean margins and help prevent any recurrence. I can relate to how hard it is to lose a part of yourself, but... we'll get through it together. They will cover the bottom part with many stitches to control the bleeding. We won't be able to go home until you are able to function on your own with your new shape. Please work with me on that. You have existed in me my whole life. I have faith you have plenty of mileage left. Thank you for serving me so well up to this point, and I look forward to more years to come with you. 


Your beloved vessel


Psst… I am hungry. Can you work fast enough so I can eat again? *grin* 


So here I am, on the night before surgery, feeling prepared, hungry, and strangely calm. I don’t know exactly what tomorrow or the days after will bring, but I know I am walking into this with trust in my team, trust in my body, and a deep hope that healing will unfold one day at a time. 

 

Comments

  1. Paula BSeptember 29, 2026 at 9:29 PM

    Sending all the love, prayers, and positive vibes your way. And extra prayers that the interpreter is the very best fit for you and your team. Years ago my late-mother donated her right kidney to a cousin. While she was still delirious from surgery she started singing, “you’ve got the right one, baby”. We all cracked up because it was a Pepsi commercial at that time. 🤟🏼💜🤟🏼

    ReplyDelete
  2. ChrysSeptember 30, 2026 at 1:06 AM

    I remember you writing the letter to your uterus. I love that you wrote to your kidney too! Sending peace and continued calm! Hugs!!

    ReplyDelete

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