My sister Stephanie got it right when she mused, “When you’ve undergone a major surgery or something like you’ve just experienced, it’s good to remember that recovery is like taking two steps forward and one step back.”
Before hearing her words, I hadn’t stopped to consider that I’d feel okay one day, and kinda lousy, tired or both the next. The passage to recovery is a suffocating struggle against waters so deep, at times my feet don’t touch the bottom; at other times, I’m buoyed by the current. I can imagine where I’d like to surface, but the way up is unclear.
At times like this, it’s important that I talk to myself,
to remind myself of all the progress I’ve made in just over two weeks of being at home. So here goes:
- I’m eating so much better now that I can choose what I eat and it isn’t being prepared in a prison galley.
- It no longer hurts to swallow pills, which is a good thing. I usually have to swallow at least 12 pills/day.
- I can walk around without shoes, a real joy for me since I love being barefoot. (There was no way I’d allow my skin to come in contact with a hospital room floor.)
- I have better cable at home. Even HGTV gets old when you don’t want to Love It or List It, Flip It, or Fixit Up.
- My world has expanded from a mere hospital room with a bathroom. I have an entire house to move about. Although out of safety precautions, I choose to stay out of the boys’ bedrooms.
- No one wakes me in the middle of the night…unless it’s my bladder.
- My hair has finally stopped falling out. It hasn’t started to grow back yet, but I don’t have to worry about going to sleep with a regular pillow and waking up to a pillow case disguised as Chewbacca.
But the very best part of being home is spending my days and nights with family. Because even the worse day at home is better than an afternoon on the BMT Unit.