Adjusting

The morning after the last post I wrote and didn’t publish until nearly a month later  I woke up with stomach pain and ended up going to the ER and having surgery.  My appendix seemed to no longer want to behave itself.   It has been a long and strange month.   I was on edge after my friends funeral.  It was a beautiful funeral, that was truly a celebration of her life.   So going into the hospital the next day and needing to have surgery was stressful.

I was comforted and entertained while waiting in the ER by all of the prayers and text messages from people I know.  The different circles of people we have grown to know over the years has been great.  I still don’t have any really close friends; perhaps I am too weird or busy, but I have people.  People who care and brought dinner by and sent get well cards and kept checking on me over Facebook.  It is such a contrast to 6 years ago when I was in the hospital for nearly a week.  We knew NO ONE except the people we worked with.  It was lonely.  I had a 12 week old baby and I was terrified something horrible might happen to me and I had such despair.  I had no faith life at the time.  I don’t know if I even tried to pray.  If I did it was probably something like “please, please please dont let me die”.

I wasn’t much more courageous this time around.  Being put to sleep and loosing control of my body is horrifying for me.  I wouldn’t even take the morphine they were offering for pain, because I don’t life feeling weird.  This is the same reason I don’t drink more than a few sips of alcohol, if I bother to drink it at all. I dislike feeling altered.  This makes me a very bad patient.  Intellectually I know that I don’t really have control, but I can’t let go.  I can’t figure out how to do it.

I was thankful our priest stopped by before the surgery.  We had a nice chat and I was able to receive the sacrament of Anointing of the Sick.  That helped ease my fears a bit before surgery.

I do remember as they wheeled me into the operating room thinking about what a rotten patient I am, how I dread and avoid suffering, as well as what the priest and I had discussed about none of it being in my control.  As I approached the doors I realized that of the two possible outcomes of surgery( you know dying or not dying) that wanting to continue the life I had been given, was in fact, willingly choosing to suffer.  Somehow that eased my mind.

I woke up from surgery a few hours later and I noticed how dry my mouth was and then I realized I was awake and I was SO happy! The joy was there, but quickly was overshadowed by the realization that I had surgery and I hurt.

Recovering has been a LONG process.  I am still maybe at 80%.  Every different ache and twinge still sends me worrying that there might be something wrong.  I am afraid to go anywhere alone.  I still can’t bend over well to pick stuff off the floor.  Today was the first day I didn’t have to hold my stomach when I walked.  I have odd outfits that consist of gym pants ( for tummy support) under long skirts.  I am currently on a 3 outfit rotation.

2 weeks ago I started my new job for my former boss.  It has been an adjustment going back to work as well as a lot harder since I am still recovering.  I do feel accomplished that I got my first project out of the way and a grant application submitted a whole 24 hours before the deadline.  It feels good to take on something different and accomplish it.

 

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