Mom that's me.
I was in so much pain that I thought I couldn't stand it. That I won't. At that moment, I guess I wanted to die. I just wanted to stop living. I wouldn't wish such pain on my worst enemy. Today, remembering those moments, I wonder what to compare this pain to. There is no worse pain than the pain of stones in the gallbladder. Thank you to people who have the same as me and they don't want to get rid of it. Quick surgery, two cuts and then a life without pain and fear. Current medicine makes everything easier, laparoscopically, without cutting. Doctors are educated and technology is very developed. There's not even a trace.
I never knew when and in what situation this pain would hit me. It could have appeared after eating a slice of bread, or in my case after drinking a glass of water too quickly. Or just for no reason. unknown. This time he woke me up at night for no apparent reason. Well, this is the day, or actually the night, when it will happen. And it will hurt. It hurt so much.
I have thought many times to "cut down this devilishness. You can live without it. "But I didn't have the courage. You can live without a gallbladder, without a kidney, like my youngest son Kacper. I am still alive without stomach. Not all organs are needed for happiness. You can live and function normally. Why bother when you can relieve yourself?
This time, I found it to be the last time my illness had an advantage over me. After all, I'm still young, I have my whole life ahead of me, so many dreams and desires. It's high time to do something about it.
I rolled over at night from side to side. I sat down. I was getting up. I walked around the room on and on. I crouched. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, nothing helped.
Finally I looked into the cupboard - first aid kit with drugs. I took my last painkillers around 4 p.m. I searched other shelves with medicines, plates, a tea cupboard, a drawer with trinkets. ABOUT! I found a hammer. But what is he doing in the fork cabinet? Somehow that didn't surprise me. Ever since the twins were born, I've found strange things in even more strange places where they shouldn't be. Not to mention how many tools, screwdrivers and other strange tools I found scattered around the house that I couldn't even name. And what to know what they are for.
I looked at my watch. 2:16. Not good ... I had the feeling that the pain was getting worse ...
I had similar pains before. But they passed quickly. This one was different. Long. Insistent. I couldn't catch my breath. He did not let go like the previous ones.
I finally got to bed gently. I tried to do it quietly so as not to wake Robert and the twins sleeping behind the wall. Wall. good yourself. Wall is saying too much. In fact, it was a thin OSB board, a partition wall behind which the kids slept on the mezzanine. We lived on 25 square meters. It had to be somehow "embraced". This room - our apartment and divide so that each has its own corner. Before, we lived in one from Warsaw's housing estates in Ursynów in a two-room flat with my in-laws, on the third floor with no elevator in an even smaller room than this. I learned to tiptoe there. Literally. I didn't feel well there. I had the impression that my husband's parents were always watching me. They see but don't look. They follow my every step and wait for my stumbles and mistakes.
Or maybe I was already falling into some phobias? Maybe I was paranoid? It is possible, but then I had the impression that my mother-in-law did not like me and my father-in-law "would not invite me to golf".
When the twins were born, we decided to return to my family home. It was gonna be easier. It was supposed to be easier ...
At least locally.
I thought so. And mom behind the wall. I had high hopes and promised myself a lot after this move. Unfortunately looking at it
In retrospect, I know that it was not a good idea, because after less than a year we moved to another place. But for now, I didn't have to worry about bringing the twin wheelchair up to the third floor. I had three steps here.
In fact, we had three small rooms, a kitchen, and a small wardrobe in these "several" square meters and a hall. In addition, a larger room divided into two parts. A few years back it was a large guest room in my family house, with a blue sofa, two matching armchairs, a full-walled bookcase with crystals, family souvenirs and in the center of the room a mighty table of wood and heavy as Oak Bartek. In addition, there were six chairs around him with dark blue fabric fittings, the same as this immortal couch. Long live the People's Republic of Poland. Eternal, unceasing, for some charming. Depressing and angry for me...
Everything in this room was reminiscent of the good pre-gomołka times, when the principle of "make a pledge and stand up" was professed. But I remember well that table, those chairs, that bookcase, that carpet. It all had its charm. The charm of the old days. Supposed better years. I remember wooden windows that did not close properly and when they were closed, they opened with difficulty. How bloody hell hit mom when she had to wash them. The window consisted of nine small panes separated from each other by wooden planks. Every housewife's dream. They looked nice but washing them was a real nightmare.
This room has undergone many metamorphoses. Probably all generations of Chacińscy and Parżów lived there and now we were to live. The next generation. A young married couple with two children and great plans and hopes for the future. And we lived. I was very happy when my brother suggested that we should take this room and he would move to the first floor. Before moving, we did a general renovation, we got rid of the windows for more modern ones. I got rid of the table and chairs and my mother took the bookcase to her room. Twenty years pass and this bookcase is still there. Every time I visit my mother, I look at this bookcase, I am reminded of the place where it originally stood.
After our move, or rather after moving in from Ursynów, we made this small apartment. We made our little "paradise" out of this tiny room. We had a small kitchen here and in it a gas stove for four burners taken for our joint first marriage installments, a refrigerator, a long table top and kitchen cabinets. We had a dishwasher. We even brought water, installed a heater to have hot water. We put the fireplace on because there was no heating. Everything like in a normal kitchen. In a normal flat. How maybe not a stranger, but a separate and independent family. Because you know best on your own. The twins" room was right behind us. It was a small room with a mezzanine where they slept and chased each other around. Everything is separated by a partition wall. Opening the door to our apartment, a small corridor stretched straight ahead. He measured two steps. Coat racks and shoe cabinets stretched to the left and right. Small shelves overhead where you could put some knick-knacks, hats, scarves and the like. Usually it was always a mess. You could find the proverbial soap there and jam.
Slightly to the right was the entrance door to the main room. It was our bedroom-living room where we slept and we ate meals together. That's where I drank with mum a coffee by the burning fireplace and we watched some goofy series.
On the right there was a fireplace in which we burned with wood. On the opposite side, a purple corner with huge down pillows, my childhood dream where we slept together with my husband, a small desk, one armchair and a suspended TV stand. Next, a partition wall and a twin room. Very tiny, but there was such a place for their toys, a wardrobe for children's clothes and a mezzanine where they slept. The dressing room actually made a small storage room. In addition to our clothes, I had shelves for household chemicals and cosmetics. The bathroom was located in a different part of the building, we shared it with other household members and we washed ourselves in the twins" bathtub, heating water with gas. Well, those were the times. Eight years ago we lived in completely different conditions and a lot has changed since then. Man has gained new experiences and it can be said - he has grown up and put many things in his mind and thought over.
The pain continued. I started to panic a little but finally managed to fall asleep. I don't remember how many times I looked at my watch. How many more times have I fallen side to side.
The next day we planned a barbecue with my husband's friends. I had average fun. My stomach throbbed, throbbed. I was afraid to eat anything. When I finally felt hungry, I decided to eat something. I ate a grilled sausage and it was a mistake. or maybe not? If it wasn't for this "meal", maybe I would still be walking around with a ticking time bomb in me - my gallbladder ... or maybe I would be gone because I wouldn't survive the next pain?
I don't think I've ever driven a car so fast. When I found myself in the hospital at ul. Banacha in Warsaw, opposite the doctor's office, the doctors found obstruction of the bile ducts and promptly referred them for unclogging. My blood was drawn in the emergency department of the hospital and had an abdominal ultrasound scan and was referred to the ward. In fact, they immediately followed suit and after an hour I was already sitting in front of the operating room for ERCP treatment[1]. I was not able to lie down. The pain increased and decreased. I had the impression that each subsequent attack was worse. I tried to calm down. To think of something pleasant. I closed my eyes. I imagined that I was already home with the twins. That I read them fairy tales, that I paint, draw and do puzzles with them. That we're having fun again. I closed my eyes and saw these two little devils running around the room. This is for you, I thought. I must be healthy.
I could hear only scraps of words from behind the ajar door ... pregnancy ... fourth week ... no obstacles. we will go sideways ...
Those were the last words I remember. When I woke up in a hospital bed, everyone grinned at me and congratulated me. Nurses, doctors. Even the support staff asked if I needed anything. Need! Sleep. So I didn't dream about it. There will be a baby.
The boy who came third, I thought. However, I myself chastised myself. How do you know it's gonna be a boy. Hunch? Illusion? Or just the painkillers have already done their job. But I left right away. I was very tired and the anesthesia is not quite gone yet. The last thought I remember is "how is that possible? We were careful. I wanted to have one more child but when I finish my studies and write my master's degree. Apparently someone had other plans for me. Someone wanted me to postpone my plans and take care of something else - raising children. Since I can remember "my affairs" I have put off until later. I have lived for others. It had to be that way now.
The facts were like this. And funny. Though I personally wasn't laughing at that moment. I was maybe not broken, but a bit lost. Another child will completely turn my life upside down. After all, I have tiny twins, I do not have a stable house or apartment. Where is the next baby to these poor housing conditions?
The entire gastrology of the hospital at ul. Banacha was buzzing with gossip. Nurses smiled under their breaths as they passed me in the corridor and the doctor who operated on me was proud as a peacock that he was the first to diagnose pregnancy and I returned home without a gallbladder and with a tenant in the tummy.[2]
Most importantly, everything ended well. At least for now. The pains subsided and I never had them again and I was getting used to the thought that I was not alone. That another boy would be crawling beside the twins in nine months" time. Don't ask me why boy. Just a boy.
"The boy who came third."
