I have to start off by apologizing. Out of all the things I thought I’d neglect in my recovery a blog wasn’t one of them. All my life, writing has been therapy. I thought at least I’d manage some diary entries that I could transcribe for y’all– but nothing.
This has been harder– and more rewarding– than I ever ever imagined. First the good: The power of prayer has been overwhelmingly evident, as I have said time and time again. Additionally, I have met some of the bravest most genuinely admirable people on earth in the past year I spent learning about this surgery and coming to terms with having it, and have bonded with them in a really deep and unexpected way in sharing this strange process with them.
Generally, my recovery has been easy compared to many. I had few major complications. In fact the worst of my set backs were an endless list of allergies that we had to discover after surgery. Trust me, compared to some others’ tales, that is nothing.
The bad of course, was expected, but still difficult. Worst I think is the loneliness, just being separate from everyone so much. Feeling mentally like you are behind where you are expected to be or where you “should” be. Wondering if you made the wrong decision… If your life will be like this forever… In ways there are days I feel like I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, realizing my life will never be what it was, and it will never be completely normal. Other days I feel so overwhelmingly blessed– so please don’t get me wrong. I think anyone who faces adversity has days that test their spirit to the core of their being, and if they didn’t, how could they truly appreciate how wondrous the blessing of life is?
I do plan on giving you all the gruesome details of my recovery. My wonderful sister who flew in from Colorado for the ordeal kept a detailed log of my first several days and took a number of pictures including the one from my last post (which, in case you wondered, is the day after surgery on my first walk in the ICU).
I will start with what today is like. I started working two weeks ago, I have managed to make it to four shifts. I work 12 hours a week in three shifts. My first week was interrupted by the unpleasant news that my great-grandmother had died. She was 101 and we will all miss her very much, however, she is where she has always wanted to be now, with Jesus. The trip to MI (an 11 hour drive each way in a major snow storm) was a test of my recovery, however I am so thankful that God allowed me to be at a place in my recovery where I could make it — and with no major incident!! And I am much more confident in my progress thanks to the trip. Five days with no way to get to my doctor or hole up in my bed, and it was all fine.
For the most part I’m okay lately. I tire easily, and I certainly have some bad days. Most of my troubles lately seem to stem from weening off of my pain medications and figuring out a balance of enzymes and other digestive medications that are suitable… Yesterday and today I was struck down with incredible pain, the source of which we still don’t know. I’m hoping it is a reaction to changes in medications and nothing more. I feel like those progresso soup commercials with the tin cans, I ought to have one of those to the U of M. I feel like I’m on the phone with them enough where I ought to just not bother pushing end after the conversation! It’s a waste redialing all those numbers each time.
I promise to try to update more, and as soon as I get in the swing of it, to start posting the battle stories.