by Smith, TL
Then I did something. I had my weight loss surgery.
As always, my amazing sister came to be with me on surgery day. I remember being TERRIFIED. Like legit scared. My sister (who’s a RN and worked in surgery for years) would later tell me she’s never had any patient react that way.
I had already had a signed, notarized document that should something happen to me, my sister Dottie would take Paige. NO WAY IN HELL was she going to Jerry and E. Then, I made my surgeon and operating room staff pray with me before surgery.
I think my fear of abandonment goes way back and the terror I feel is visceral and sometimes debilitating. As if the worst-case scenario is going to happen. I wish I could tell you that I have that under control now, but my brain still thinks in these terms a lot of the time.
And yes, I’ve tried all kinds of things. Cognitive behavior therapy, medication, subliminal mediation, prayer. But I think it’s just something I’m going to always have. PTSD (even though I haven’t been “officially” diagnosed, I’m pretty sure that’s what it is).
I was 307 pounds when I went in for surgery.
Those first 24 hours in the hospital sucked though. Nothing to drink, only blue ice chips so they could make sure there were no leaks in my now super small stomach pouch and connections.
I was up and walking and released to go home a day later. They (the hospital staff and my surgeons) would call me the “Super bariatric patient”. I was determined to be home.
The first few weeks were rough. I questioned if I had done the right thing. I wasn’t hungry, but my mind was playing tricks with me. AND you have NO idea how many food commercials come on TV until you can’t eat.
I began losing weight FAST. I was down 90 pounds in less than 6 months. But I was anemic, so I had to supplement iron pills, which in turn upset my stomach. But they helped and I started feeling good and getting used to my new way of eating.
Chapter 20
Getting Along
Jerry, E, and I had come to an agreement that we had to get along for Paige’s sake. Her kids would come visit and later move to live with them.
E hated my old house. (It was bigger than the one Paige and I lived in currently, but okay) and insisted they move. Her son once told Paige we had lived in the “ghetto”. I thought Paige was going to punch him. It was NOT the ghetto by any way, shape, or form, but it wasn’t the west side either.
They got a HUGE duplex on the West side of town (we had lived in central Norman) that is still considered the “upper class” side of town. (I still live in central Norman). And it was EXPENSIVE.
A wonderful friend from the City of Norman (where I worked) found me a lawyer pro bono and I realize now; he must’ve known how bad the situation was (He, my friend, the city attorney).
Since we were all making an effort to get along, I didn’t want to put Jerry in a financial hardship. Never mind that I was still working multiple jobs and he was paying VERY little to help with Paige (if any). So, when we went to court, I told the judge I wanted his child support reduced. The look on my attorney’s face was FURY. I thought he might throttle me right there in the courtroom. Instead, he calmly asked the judge if could question Jerry. The judge allowed it.
My attorney asked him where he worked, how much he made, where he lived. Then he went in for the kill.
He asked Jerry how much his rent was. Jerry’s response? “It’s $1,000 a month, but my girlfriend pays it.” The judge looked at Jerry and said, “Well, Mr. Smith, since it appears you don’t have to pay rent, you have plenty of money to pay the full state mandated amount of child support.”
But even then, he had managed to make me feel sorry for him and I fell for it. Once again, putting himself first and his family last. And once again he told me I should’ve fought harder for him. Isn’t that something?
His child support came directly out of his check and his boss would cut me a check every month for the full amount. It wasn’t a lot, but it certainly helped.
And we all continued to work on getting along. I secretly hated it. But I loved my daughter more, so I made it happen.
I waited tables after my 8-5 job, Jerry would pick Paige up when he got off work and take her to their house and I would pick her up when I got off from the restaurant. It worked out okay, but I sure hated not being with her. She was in middle school and that was a pivotal time in a young girl’s life.
Sometimes she’d go stay the night with them, and most of the time, she would take a friend with her because she didn’t want to be there alone with them. She said they fought. Secretly I was happy. E deserved it in my mind. Sometimes, I would stay with her and let her visit with her dad until we went home.
I was jealous.
Jealous of this beautiful home they had and how happy they seemed. Why couldn’t he have provided this way for us? What was wrong with me that he didn’t want to provide for us that way?
When I was alone, I often would sit and pick our lives and myself apart, trying to comprehend where I failed.
This served no purpose, but it was the way my mind worked. The way I had been “trained” to see things. If only I had lost weight, if only I would do this or that, if only I were prettier, if only I made more money, if only, if only. Things would be different; he wouldn’t have had to find someone else. He was right, even losing weight like I was, I was not the caliber of woman any good man would want. At least that’s what I thought.
I didn’t tell anyone that I was feeling this way. Not even Kenny. (He would have just told me I was being abused and I refused to believe that still).
There’s so much about me that I’m still coming to terms with through sharing this journey. I still fight those thoughts. That’s the viciousness of abuse.
Abuse changes you forever and it’s a constant battle to know your worth.
I have found that scriptural affirmations help me. So, in my room there are many positive scriptures around me that keep me uplifted, remind me to whom I belong. And then I have some set scripture that tell me what I need……
I am loved (Romans 5:8)
I am worthy (2 Corinthians 5:21)
I am appointed (Ephesians 2:10)
I got a panicked call from the kids (hers were there too) one night that they were fighting. Something to the effect of Jerry had a knife and E had called the police.
I rushed over there. Praying the whole time. I was driving and keeping Paige on speaker phone so I could make sure the kids were okay. The police were already there. I explained who I was and that I was here to take the kids with me. And then, I loaded ALL the kids up in my car (yes, hers included).
The police officer was trying to get Jerry to cooperate, but he was clearly drunk and annoyed. I could hear them saying that if he didn’t sit down, they were going to take him to jail on public intox and obstruction. E was crying and screaming in the house, talking to another officer.
I locked the kids in the car and got out. I asked the officer if I could have a minute with Jerry. I looked him square in the eyes and told him if he didn’t sit down, they were not joking. They would take him to jail. I asked him if he really wanted Paige to witness her dad being handcuffed and hauled off to jail. He told me no. Sternly, I told him he had to listen to me and sit his ass down now and keep his mouth shut until they asked him to speak.
He listened to me and sat down. The officer thanked me and then I took the kids to my house. I don’t remember what happened, but no one went to jail.
From that point on, Paige refused to go to her dads without me, so when she did go, I went with her.
Kenny remained a constant, always helping with Paige and supporting me emotionally. I truly cared about our friendship.
So, it came as a complete shock to me when one night, after watching movies (James Garner, Space Cowboys) as he was leaving, he tried to kiss me. Now, he had massaged my shoulders for as long as we’d been friends, but nothing like this had ever happened. He and my friend had broken up a year prior and I know that had hurt hi
m. But we helped each other through our collective broken hearts.
I pushed him out my door and locked it. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I didn’t know what I wanted. But I couldn’t lose him. I needed his friendship.
I hadn’t been with ANYONE other than Jerry and even though we were divorced, it still felt like cheating.
I talked to Kenny through the door and told him all of this. He convinced me to let him in so we could talk.
And I let him in.
We talked for hours. I was so afraid that if we went here, I would wind up losing him too and I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk that. I valued our friendship so much.
I told him everything. Even the ugly stuff. He told me he loved me, and I knew he did.
When he went to kiss me again, I didn’t push him away. And then he loved me in a way I had never experienced.
He was gentle, loving, and deliberate in showing me his feelings. And this was what intimacy was supposed to be.
He was a nurse and when he could, he would come to Norman to spend time with me. I worked at the restaurant after my office job. He would get off work (clear up in North OKC) and drive down to the restaurant to eat dinner. Leave me tip, even though I told him not to and then he’d go to my house and wait for me.
The first time he did this, I came home to find Jackson Browne playing, a movie ready to go, candles lit so my house smelled great, and a hot bath run. He washed my back for me and then washed my hair.
And he was so incredibly patient with me. Even when I was diagnosed with invasive cancer. Of the vulva.
Chapter 21
Cancer Rears Its Ugly Head Again
I had a place on my vulva that I’d had for years, but suddenly, it was catching on my fingernail when I would wipe and that hurt. I made an appointment with my OB/GYN to have it removed. My doctor did it right there in the office and told me it was nothing to worry about.
I had nearly forgotten about it when I got the phone call and it was the doctor, not the nurse. I asked why he was calling and not the nurse. He said, “Terri, it is cancer and it’s invasive.” “I have set up an appointment for you with a Gynecologist/Oncologist next week.”
It was so fast, and I was scared after the shock had worn off. All the what ifs went through my mind. What would happen to Paige? Who would love her like me? Will my vagina look normal?
And as crazy as this sounds, I wanted Jerry to reassure me that is was going to be okay,(any time I had been through something BIG he was the person I clung to) but he wouldn’t take my calls, wouldn’t return them, and told my friend, “that’s too bad for her.” All those years together and not even cancer could make him show empathy toward me. Why did I expect otherwise?
And through it all, Kenny continued to be a big part of our lives. Paige resented our relationship at first. One because he was older than me (people would ask if he was my dad when we went out) and two, because he wasn’t her dad. But he wasn’t trying to be. And he wasn’t THAT much older than me, he just had grey hair already and I clearly looked young (okay, my attempt at humor).
In all fairness, he had done more as a father figure with Paige than Jerry ever did.
I had my surgery to remove the superficially invasive squamous cell carcinoma. Radical, partial, vulvectomy and my friend Tia went with me. I didn’t want Kenny there. It was about a week before Thanksgiving. My niece and her husband drove all the way from Arkansas to pick Paige and I up because I couldn’t drive. But I was in horrible pain and felt lousy. I didn’t tell anyone. (If I don’t address it, it doesn’t exist, right?)
When I got home, it got worse. My incision (they took a large chunk 1” deep) had become infected and ruptured. The oncologist wanted to admit me, but I begged him not to, I couldn’t leave Paige alone or with her dad and E. The oncologist agreed to send me home and ordered home health for me. The home health nurse taught Paige how to pack my open incision. They couldn’t sew it back up, so they had to let it close itself from the inside out. Fun times right? Not even remotely.
Kenny (in typical nurse fashion) was determined to take care of it but I absolutely refused. He was my boyfriend and I did NOT want him to see my vagina looking like that. Is it that crazy? Vain? I mean, that’s already an area you don’t just want to show anyway, but certainly not like this.
But he listened to my concerns and abided by my wishes, even if the nurse instinct in him told him not to. I bet he called 10 times a day to make sure I had taken my antibiotics, had I eaten, was I resting. He may as well have been the doctor at that point. But that warmed my heart so much, he genuinely cared about me.
And he continued to love me, teaching me so many nuances about myself along the way. Reminding me I was worthy of being loved completely and fully and making me believe it for the first time in my adult life.
I knew that Kenny had nearly lost his nursing license years before I met him, and I knew that it was drug related. But I never asked because it wasn’t an issue, he had told me that it happened, and I didn’t feel the need to press the subject. He had been honest with me, that’s all I needed. I assumed he failed a marijuana screening. I knew that he liked it, and he knew I didn’t. Non-issue.
I had never seen him do anything other than have a drink socially or smoke pot with others on occasion. And he gave me no reason to question that. It was his past and everyone had a past. And mine was MUCH worse than his in my eyes.
We went to Arkansas for 4th of July 2003. He met all my family, and everyone loved him. We had so much fun swimming at my sister’s house and grilling out. He insisted we go buy fireworks. He LOVED fireworks. I bet we went to 15 stands that day and I know he spent several hundred dollars on fireworks. He made sure to buy enough to take home to his granddaughters too.
We went down to the riverbed with my niece and shot off nearly ALL the fireworks. There were some HUGE fireworks too. It was amazing. And for the first time a very long time, I felt like things were going to be okay. And I knew I loved him.
We drove home the next day, sunburned, relaxed, and content. When we got to my house, Kenny realized that he had left his house keys in Arkansas. I called my sister and niece (we had stayed with her) and they located the keys. A couple days later, he drove (by himself, he didn’t want me to go) and met my sister and brother in law at Webber’s Falls to get his keys. That was the first time I thought something was “off”.
I didn’t want to be “that” girlfriend and smother him either, so I let it go. But it bothered me. Why didn’t he want me to go? My old insecurities rearing their ugly head made me uneasy.
My birthday (August 3rd) was coming up and Kenny and I had made plans to spend it together. It happened to fall on a Sunday.
Saturday night he called me to say he hated to disappoint me, but he “needed” to spend the day with his grandkids. I know how much he adored those girls and his daughter too. Well, I’m not about to keep him from his family, so I told him I understood. (I lied.)
To say I was disappointed is putting it mildly. I was crushed. My heart broken and feeling like this person I had let in, didn’t really love me like he said. I would argue with myself for hours before finally concluding I was acting like a jealous, possessive, teenager and I needed to knock it off and allow him this time, even if it did fall on my birthday.
He had already given me a beautiful bottle of perfume I loved, which made me wonder if he planned it this way? And of course, in my PTSD mind, I was thinking, “Is there someone else?”
Sunday, I didn’t hear from him, which was unusual. I typically talked to him several times a day, so I called him and got his voicemail late in the afternoon. He didn’t call back. Really out of character.
Monday, same thing. Nothing. I was beginning to think that my suspicions were right and that this was his way of breaking things off.
I had talked to his daughter (Alicia) a few times on the phone, had met his mom, but didn’t want to sound crazy by calling them and asking if everything was okay. So, I just
waited and wondered and with each passing hour, felt more and more like something was really wrong with us. But what?
There had been no arguments, no fights, nothing. What could have possibly upset him enough to just bail like this?
Tuesday morning, I was at work at the City or Norman and Paige called me from the house. She said Alicia had called and needed to talk to me. Alicia had never called just to talk to me before, so immediately I thought he must’ve had a heart attack or something awful like that and that was why I hadn’t heard from him. I called her back from my work phone right then.
The words she told me could not have been more of shock.
She said, “I’m really sorry to tell you this at work, but they found my dad dead this morning.”
Chapter 22
Kenny’s Gone
Everything started spinning. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I don’t even remember if I said anything to her. There must be some mistake. I called my best friend Trish (she worked at the PD) and tried to tell her what had happened. I couldn’t talk because I couldn’t breathe. All she could hear was sobbing. Uncontrollable sobbing.
I remember her telling me I had to stop and breathe, that if I didn’t stop to breathe, she was going to send an ambulance over. I was finally able to get it out. “Kenny’s dead.”
I collapsed onto the floor in my boss’s office and told her, “I have to go.” “I have to go home.”
My coworkers offered to drive me, but I said “no.” (I should have let them) I don’t remember driving myself home. I don’t remember how Paige knew I was coming (I think Trish must have called her).
Paige and her friend met me at the car and got me in the house. I hadn’t been home long when Pat (our friend and bartender) showed up and just let me cry until my other friend Debbie and Trish could get to me.
Debbie and I went later that evening to his mom’s house, where I finally met Alicia in person. They had told me (in a later phone call) that he had a heart attack, but when I got there, Alicia was asking me pointed questions about drug use and her dad and did I know? I was like, “Know what?”