Progress... Not Perfection

I am starting to make some real progress in my recovery. Three months ago today, I was having my PIC line inserted before the surgery that I was scheduled for the next day. It seems like light years ago. I am beginning to settle (keyword = beginning) into my 'new normal' routine. I am even making peace with my can vs. can't do list. I am forward strides and it feels so good!

Several weeks ago, the stir crazies set in. I found myself feeling like I was literally going to come out of my skin, I was that antsy. It was hard to admit to myself, and even more so to other people, that the wonderful feeling of getting out of the hospital and coming home to my house, was beginning to wear off. With Tessa and Torrie in school and Ken finally back to work and traveling, I suddenly found myself quite alone. Even with the outpouring of offers from friends to be with me, take me places, etc., I struggled with not feeling well enough to go out and at one point, starting to feel the need to 'entertain' when people came over. Me and my stir crazy brain were really starting to fall apart. I wanted to be with people but I very much also wanted to be left alone. My internal voice turned on me with statements like "You're not being very grateful", 'What are you whining about?", blah, blah, blah. Alone...in my own head, not so good.

So I talked to my doctor. This is not uncommon, she told me. Many patients, after long term hospitalization, feel this way. Even though I came to despise the constant invasion of my space and body by the medical staff, it was contact and dialogue. At home, with everyone gone and not being able to do much but rest, I was feeling true helplessness and frustration. With no one else around to take it out on (thank goodness), I turned on myself. I felt myself isolating and couldn't figure out why. She told me it was a classic case of PTSD and fortunately, with professional care, I passed through the crisis time.

My body beginning to heal has helped my emotions tremendously. Being able to kiss the hospital bed goodbye, move up and down stairs easier, being able to stroll around the yard, was the real medicine for me. The past couple of weeks have been especially positive for me. I tackled a big project that I left uncompleted before surgery. Knowing I would not be able to do this after surgery, I removed the carpeting in the entry way and stairway to expose the wood floors underneath. Sanding and painting the backs of the stairs is what was left to be done. So VERY slowly, I sat on each step, and probably much more meticulously than I would have done if my belly wasn't such a mess, did a pretty darn good job of bringing our staircase to its shiny new self. I am most proud of the fact that I was able to take my time (three days, to be truthful), and not freak out that I had to leave things at a standstill. - the old Type A, OCD, Perfectionist me that would have started in the morning and worked through meals, sleep, whatever, to have the project done in one shot.- Boy, have I learned a lot from my practice of Mindfulness Meditation!! Once the stairs were done, of course the railing and banister need to be sanded and re stained... much more meditation practice needed...

Ta da!!

A huge leap was being able to drive again! I really didn't have many places that I needed to go, but just knowing that I could if I wanted to gave me a tremendous lift. The pain has become much more tolerable, so less pain medicine is needed. On the days I know I will be driving, I bite the bullet. My wound is still a real mess, though. Originally, the size of Ken's stretched opened hand and about an inch deep, it is now about the size of my hand, and not too deep. Very slow progress. Even though I can shower, wear normal clothes, put on makeup and fluff the hair, it is so hard to feel pretty with the bandage and packing right below the surface, constantly on my mind. I am still trusting my doctor that the open wound will completely come together, but from my point of view, it too will be a miracle. Each day, I pack the wound with gauze that has been saturated with Dakin's solution. This stuff is basically watered down bleach. It smells just like bleach and it has stained my two best pair of leggings just like bleach. I am so self conscious that people I stand close to will smell it. I guess that is much better than having an odor of infection though, ugh.


This week was the best so far, though. I finally made it back to the gym! Mind you, I am only walking at a snail's pace on the treadmill, but I am there. Actually, the hardest part of my workout is bending over to lace up my shoes. The old me wants to tackle the eliptical and do planks and squats...the new me is going to have to learn to be content with walking. I am sure as I heal more and get stronger, I will be able to incorporate more. For now, I am grateful that I can finally recline fully back so that I can get my hair done next week!

Progress...next week, I go back to see my Oncologist. I had my final treatment in July to let my immune system strengthen, but now it's time to make plans to go back on the chemo. This really shows that I am getting stronger, because I am about to engage again in the fight that never stops.

Namaste.
Kim