My recovery from this "hysta" has been better than I thought it would be. The pre-surgical dread was far worse than convalescence itself. The first couple of weeks extended a kind hand offering some sort of advancement each day and I gotta say I'm a tad proud given the fact I'm no spry spring chicken at 51. Perhaps like many of you I test my limits, not so much out of bull headedness but more striving to wring the most gusto out of each day. If I can accomplish even a tiny hint of a mite more than the day before, you can bet your last penny I'll try. Sometimes it cost more than I bargained for, as I learned the hard way last week.
At two weeks post op, my sister asked me if she could come over, to which I replied, "Can you come over? Yes! I'd love to see you. Just name the day and time. Lord knows I'll be here." We eagerly set up the date which just happened to be the day I was to see my surgeon for my two-week post op check. Figuring I'd have plenty of strength by then, I threw caution to the wind.
When the date rolled around, Jimmy and I headed for my 0845 doctor's appointment. Since the doctor's office is attached to the hospital where I work, I suggested we stop by to visit the girls in my office. I sensed I was pushing my limits because by the time we walked down the glass hallway from the medical building to my office, I was officially out of gas. After 30-minutes of catching up, I'd begun to wilt like a Violet in the Sahara Desert.
By the time we arrived home I had about one hour to rest before my sister would arrive, or so I thought. A half hour into my "beauty rest" the door bell rang. Jimmy was nowhere to be found, so with my eyelids at half mast I commenced hoisting myself off the couch, careful to use all arm and no abdominal muscles. By the time I made my way to the door, the exhaustion that clung to me like a heavy cloak flew out the door as my sister, her daughter, and two grandchildren came in. It was so refreshing to see family I was down right pumped instantly.
After a quick visit we set off for lunch, the tradition we used to enjoy when dad was alive. We'd meet at his place, clean his apartment, and take him to lunch and Wal Mart. Those were the good old days.
KFC was our craving for the day, so we hopped in her Jeep Wrangler, drove 1 mile, ordered a $5 meal each, and sat down with our feast. It was so good to see my family I guess the adrenaline dulled the pain, because after lunch I didn't want to go home. That's when we set sail for Wal Mart as per family tradition.
Looking back I was foolish to pack so much into one day. The doctor's visit, walk to the office, climb into the Jeep, and prowl through Wal Mart was equivalent to what I'd do on a regular day let alone two weeks post op, not to mention the added taxation of laughing hysterically with my sister, something we do when together without fail. It a comedic curse that comes from my dad's side of the family and utterly impossible to suppress. In fact, knowing how much it hurt for me to laugh, she'd inadvertently make me laugh all the more by trying to be serious. And she says the craziest most unexpected things. Like when I was looking at teeth whitening strips she said, "Your teeth are so white. Don't whiten them any more. I don't trust people with really white teeth." I was so dumbfounded at the comment I grabbed my belly and burst out laughing. Who would ever say such a thing but my sister, and she wasn't trying to be funny.
I had the best time that day two-weeks post op, but I paid for it dearly. Overextending myself for one day set me back the next five. Exhausted and hurting I laid on the couch, unable do little else. Even the pain medication couldn't compensate for what I had done. As careful as I've been during this time of recovery, I over stepped my bounds, only to discover I am not superwoman and must continue to take it slow and steady. No spurts allowed.
That was a week ago and now it's the third week post op. I'm much stronger and weaning off the pain medication, but have learned to divvy out my energy with extreme caution. Yesterday Jimmy and I ran a few errands and I even shopped a little. I am no worse for the wear today but since Dani is off to work and he's shooting a wedding all day, I plan to piddle around the house by reading and watching a movie. I have a hankering to watch "Peggy Sue Got Married" which is patiently waiting for me in the queue on Netflix. God sent rain so I think He's doubly supportive of my efforts to rest and relax this fine day.
I hope you are doing well and are listening to your body's language too. Have a restful weekend!
4 comments:
Nancy, what a good reminder to listen to our own body's language. We certainly get in trouble when we don't!
Wal-Mart is a beast all its own. Take your time, sister, and give yourself permission to rest. I learned early on with my cancer treatments that I had to pace myself. Some days, just walking to the mailbox was enough!
peace~elaine
Listen to our body is a great reminder.
I'm glad you're doing better. We've all done that at one time or another.
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