The Road to Recovery
I still can’t believe how long this road is. I’ve been home for five days now and I’m still so tired. Healing is hard work! I look back over the course of the past two weeks and simply can’t believe what my poor body has endured.
*A gallbladder attack at work
*Another gallbladder attack that evening and a trip to the ER
*Gallbladder removal surgery
*Another trip to the ER with a CT scan
*Re-admission to the hospital due to severe pain
*Another CT scan and a HIDA scan
*Eighteen (at least that is the number I can remember) sticks with needles
Yeah, I was one sick puppy for a long time. My body has been put through the wringer. I’m healing very slowly because my body is still fighting off this infection.
And yet….I just want to be better already! I want to be fully me again! I want to be running at 100% yet know I’m up to about 20%. I get exhausted just getting a shower. Fixing myself something to eat for a meal (pulling it out of the fridge, putting it on a plate, and pushing some buttons on the microwave) make me glad I can sit and take 30 minutes to eat it because the fork is just so damn heavy!
I’m finding that I am not a good patient. I’m not a good invalid. I still have the drive to want to do all the things but I don’t have the physical ability right now. Sitting around healing is making my mind go nuts. Now, more than ever, I’m thankful for my blog because it gives my brain something to do. I’ve been writing so much the past few days, trying to remember things that are just a haze of pain and morphine.
Why can’t I just be out of this chair and better already? Oh, that’s right. Because of all of the above. No matter how much I want to think it, I am not Super Woman. I do not have extraordinary abilities to heal faster than a human should. I am not invincible. My body will heal at my body’s pace. I want to be up and moving and the fastest way to do that is to slow down and rest. Yeah, right! How does a naturally hyper personality like me slow down? Obviously, with lots of kicking and screaming and protesting.
Endellion is making me take my Percocet at night, no matter how much I fight needing it. The fact of the matter is that I sleep better with it because laying horizontal is still uncomfortable. She’s working on getting me to admit that it hurts. But it really doesn’t HURT. It is uncomfortable. But I sleep better with the Percocet, so for the next few nights, I’ll continue to take it at bedtime, no matter how unhappy I am about it. I will pout. I will moan. I will whine. Then I’ll pop the stupid pill and get some much needed rest.
I’m trying to remind myself that my physical body is as worthy of healing as my emotions are. I’ve taken a long time to heal after I left Bubba; I’m still working on it in fact. Why is my body so different? I know it stems from Celia. I know that giving in to our illness or physical limitations is weakness in her eyes. I need to shut her voice up. I need to exorcise it from my brain. I need to give my body time to heal because it is going to take time, no matter how much I don’t like that.
Treun and I are going out tomorrow. OK, maybe that isn’t exactly accurate. He’s picking me up and taking me to his house to snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. But it will feel normal. It will be a tiny reprieve in sitting around my house feeling worthless. I can snuggle up to Treun and not feel like I’m wasting time for some reason. Just being with him is enough. I haven’t seen him in three days and it is about killing me.
Life is slowly returning to normal. It is too slowly for me, but I have to learn to deal with it. Life has to slow down right now. It just has to or I’ll never get back to 100%.
Easier said than done.