Be Nice to the Elderly and Infirm...

I'm back... And now you will be regaled with medical stories....

I am three weeks out from major surgery.  Whew! One really hard first week and now the long uphill.  

This was long planned, researched and considered and yet I still found myself unprepared for the complete invalid experience.  Because of the nature of my surgery (if you really want to know mastectomy with DIEP flap reconstruction),  I was looking at an 8 hour surgery with my whole torso being reorganized and shuffled around.  I knew I would be fairly useless. I stocked the house, cleaned and filled the DVR. Set up my bedroom for gimping around, set up Netflix and got a few good books.  I bought my Christmas cards and imagined myself quietly productive during my recovery.  Fool....  (After two weeks, which is not that long considering how involved it all was, I finally began reaching that point.)

 I have to say that, despite the pervasive feeling of having been run over by a semi, there wasn't really that much pain- which was a relief. However, I was blown away by how the cacophony of small miseries, all minor enough on their own, conspired to create a kind of sleep deprivation that was truly torturous.  The anesthesia left me so weak that I could hardly stand long enough to brush my teeth, the drains and incisions left me with no position that would bring sleep, the effort to eat made it seem not worthwhile and my greatest source of pain was a complete surprise.  My back was friggin' killing me!  My back had nothing to do with anything! WTF? But, not being able to lie flat or stand straight put sooo much strain on my lower back.  

My best friend was the medical recliner that we rented. But, it also completed the whole helpless invalid/old gnarled person picture.  I couldn't change the position by myself. My children would eagerly come running to prop me up or down- bless them.  (And they were dying to get me to uses the highchair-type eating tray. I refused.) To get up, I would struggle against gravity and then shuffle in the exact same manner that my 85 year old, osteoporosis stricken father would in his last few years. When I returned to my chair with a sigh of relief, I considered that I was living the compromised elderly life.  And I didn't like it...

Looking back, I was at my most miserable for a week. (Which seems reasonable.)  But that week seemed sooooo long because I just couldn't sleep and I felt sooo weak and now I have so much more sympathy for the elderly infirm.  I understand why they shuffle around in clothes with a stain.  It's soooo hard to change.  I get why they are crotchety and frustrated.  When it's a huge effort just to get a pillow into a comfortable position, I wanted to (and maybe did- just a little) cry.  When you have a way of doing things and can't do them, it's hard not to keep quiet as those around you are doing it "wrong".  And when sleep deprivation makes your brain too mushy for anything other than hour after hour of daytime TV, it's a little soul crushing...

(The moral here is: Be nice to those grumpy, stained old people in the store. Don't wrinkle your nose or get overly annoyed.  Everything used to be easier for them.  Someday everything will be harder for you.)

BUT, when I hit a full week, I felt the shift.  And just feeling things starting to improve made it all bearable.  Even though I knew it wasn't going to be like that forever,  I needed to start feeling it.  At two weeks, I feel sooo much better.  Still slow.  Still easily tired. (But I could sleep in my own bed!) My in laws went home and I muddled through the morning and evening routines.  It's a bit of a stretch but that's a good thing.  Like physical therapy.  

Every day is getting easier.  And these kids are finally being useful.  They were too spoiled.  (I blame the mother.) They are finally doing things for themselves and helping around the house. It's awesome! But, I've got to be careful not to slip back into old habits.  If I start to look more able, I don't know that they will be so willing to keep doing the chores. (That they should have been doing all along.)   I may have to hide my increasing "normality", doing things more easily while they are at school and then acting helpless when they come home. 


Seems deceitful but duplicity might be needed to really recover properly. Especially with the older, wily one.  One morning, I was helping a bit more with breakfast and the boy asked, (a bit too eagerly) "Are you going to start serving us again?'  The older one pounced on him and said something to the effect of, "SHHHHHH!  Don't say it!  We don't want her to notice she's doing it!"  So that's the way it's going to be?  Always the academic, she is going to use strategy to try and avoid any extra physical activity or chores.  Glad my brain power is coming back, I'm going to need it to fight off her powers or I'll find myself achy and sore from doing her bidding  The force is strong with this one....