Sick of it All

I consider myself pretty healthy. I eat well, exercise, have pretty good numbers (blood sugar, cholesterol, etc), get plenty of rest...except for a nasty abdominal hernia. I thought they were just cosmetic issues. Not quite.

In the beginning of October, I had a nasty bout of bronchitis. I had been coughing a lot, and apparently I "did" something with my hernia. I had near constant pain in my abdomen. Luckily, I have an awesome primary care physician who wanted to get this fixed. 

X rays showed nothing, which was both good and bad. I needed a CT. Off I went for that...and they found a small mass near my belly button. Next up was an ultrasound, which was inconclusive. I needed to get it biopsied.

My anxiety went off the chart over the prospect that this might be serious. I spent a lot of time in prayer, focusing on a verse from Philippians 

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

Philippians 4:6 NIV

The morning of the biopsy I was in near panic. It was the fear of the unknown. I was terrified that if it was cancer, what would happen. Would I need surgery? Additional treatment? Luckily, the Big Man is pretty pragmatic and told me there's nothing to worry about. If there was something serious, we'd deal with it then.

Following the biopsy, the good news was it was completely benign. However, I still had a lot of pain. I wound up spending a week in the hospital as they tried to pinpoint what was wrong-and how to fix it.

That brings us back to my hernia. I had a pretty massive one, and it needed to get fixed. It was incarcerated-meaning my intestines were trapped-and that was causing my pain and a low grade infection. I needed surgery.

In the meantime, I needed to clear up my infection as much as possible. Several weeks of antibiotics gave way to having surgery. Prior to it, my surgeon did not know if he could do it robotically or if he would have to open me up.

Luckily, the robot won.

It doesn't mean that it's been an easy recovery. I've got a lot of pain. I have to wear a binder, and I'm limited in what I can do physically for quite some time. I can't lift over 10 lbs-so that means grocery shopping, laundry, other chores are going to be a challenge for me. Not just immediately, but for some time to come. 

I'm so lucky that my husband & son have helped take care of me and picked up my slack. I'm focused on healing right now and just getting back to me.

Jesus Christ is Risen Today

I know, Easter was last weekend. I've been on a bit of a blogging break due to my mom's illness and recovery, the Princess moving back to South Dakota and the Big Man crisscross applesauce the country to make it happen. My mother was hospitalized the Saturday before Ash Wednesday. she moved from the hospital to a nursing home for rehab on Ash Wednesday. My sister arrived the week before Lazarus Sunday. Lent was a blur, rather than a holy journey. My desert this year was a very different, unintended one.
However, as the hope of resurrection on Easter, my life is slowly returning to normal.

We met a donkey on Palm Sunday.
We raised and waved palm branches and cried out hosanna.
We went on egg hunts.
We dyed eggs.
We decorated peeps.
We celebrated the resurrection, which meant so much more this year.

hot legs

It's a rainy sunday morning, and I'm on the couch. Friday morning I made a regrettable decision-instead of bringing my wedge sandals & changing into them at work, I wore them out of the house.
Leaving, I missed the bottom step in the garage and fell into the snowblower that lives in that space. There was no room for two. I hit my head and have a cut and a goose egg.
My shoulder is black and blue.
My elbow looks like road rash.
My wrist, hand and fingers are swolle.
My hip hurts.
My knee, damaged from years of dance, field hockey, lacrosse, track and skiing, swollen and painful.
Worst of all, I broke my leg.
I am bruised, battered and in an incredible amount of pain.
I am completely helpless and vulnerable.
Obviously I am in a funk.
I hate relying on others. I prefer doing for myself.
Of course it had to be my right leg o no driving.
No yoga.
No early morning walks.
No workouts.
I can't even get myself my own coffee or breakfast because I can't balance with the crutches very well.
There is a lesson to be learned from this experience. I will garner some pearls of wisdom. It will force me to slow down, take stock, regroup.
Make lemons from lemonade.

Careless Whispers

The events of the past year and a half have left their mark. I had major surgery in December 2010, which irrefutably removed any chance of ever having a biological child. I know I should just get over it, but there are emotions that I have submerged, and I need to have them work their way to the surface, like a splinter.
Yes, I'm angry. Still. There is a lot of it still there. Resentment that people who can't take care of their kids can have them, and I couldn't.
Resentment that I lived a good life and my prayers went unanswered month after month.
Anger that no matter what I did my body still rejected me.
Anger that I let careless remarks tear at my soul.
Anger that I have let myself feel like less of a woman because of it. I have built a wall around me, figuratively and literally.
There is resentment that I felt abandoned many times. I was on a very lonely journey, and few came along with me.
I am angry that I failed as a mother. I am angry that I was set up for failure, that I wasnt worth the truth. I am angry that I opened my heart, and in return had it ripped out of my chest and trampled. I'm angry that I diverted resources and love away from my beloved son.
I'm angry I invested my heart and soul into someone who didn't care. I'm angry I got played, by both teen and the adults who I thought had her-and my-best interests in mind. I'm angry that clearing a case file was more important than damaging a family.
There is so much that I turned inward because my support network was stretched to it's limits, and I'm paying the price now. I let it take root in my life.
This bitterness is starting to consume me, and I can't live with it. It needs to be released and I need to move on. I can't heal with this anger eating away like an ulcer. It's not fatal, but it seriously impacts my life. It hurts and it limits. Its time to heal.

Day by Day

It's been a month since my most recent surgery. I keep waiting to feel better, but so far, nothing permanent. I have moments when I feel better but more often than not, I still hurt.
I'm in a binder still, to allow my stomach muscles which have been roto-rootered to heal. I still tire quite easily, which I think is the most frustrating for both myself and my family.
I look better, so I should feel better, right?
The doctor told me I need to be patient. Um excuse me, I lack that skill big time...
I need to heal on my body's timetable, not mine. However I do have a life too. The two are currently not co-existing. I am not supposed to lift anything heavier than a 1/2 gallon of milk. I am hampered at my life. Im not supposed to carry groceries or a laundry basket. I'm not allowed to vacuum (apparently vacuuming is a great ab workout, who knew?)so all that falls to my husband.
I've never been the greatest homemaker, but this not being able to anything is frustrating beyond belief. In fact, I almost miss it. Almost.
I tire easily still, so that's frustrating too . I feel compelled to take a nap when I get home, rather than anything else. I'm just drained. Add to it trying to do all the homemaking stuff that I used to do (being hampered by my limitations) and I'm set up to be cranky.
By the end of the night, I'm so physically tired, I'm ready to just collapse. Seriously. Im tired of being tired all the time...
I know that this is temporary, and that eventually I will be feeling better, but in this moment, I feel like crud still. I want my strength and endurance back, but it's nowhere to be found it seems.
Instead of baking and planning the final run up to Christmas, I am wanting to be snoozing in the recliner. I have only managed to bake 2 dozen cookies this year, which quite honestly is nothing. That's like a normal weekend. I just am not into it, because I'm so tired.
It's a physical tired where you feel like you are walking through quicksand. Every step is a struggle.
I think because this surgery wasn't as invasive as last years, I just assumed I'd bounce back quicker. Last year, I was off work for 6 weeks, followed by another 2-3 weeks of limited movement. This time, I was back to work in 2 weeks, but a month out and I'm still feeling like I'm in "healing" mode.
Add to it, mentally I'm just not there either. I'm struggling with getting in the holiday spirit as much as I would like. Looking at my checklist of things not done:
Cards not sent
Baking not done
Christmas dinner not planned
Heck, I haven't even put together my outfits for the week.
My husband has been doing the laundry for the past month, and I have been trying to keep up with putting it away.
Lunches not packed
My normal daily cleaning not done for the past month.
No yoga.
No running.
No working out.
I'm ready to just be healed.
But I need to take it day by day.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpVZ3-zQWdg&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Stuck On You

I have a yoga co-conspirator who also is a Reiki practitioner. Afterclass last weekend, we trolled the farmers market and had a chance to visit. Ialways enjoy talking to her because she is incredibly positive, no matter whatis going wrong in her world. Its something that I like to aspire to be like,but I am so far from it right now.

We had not seen each other since late spring, just due to busyness andall that jazz summer brings. I reckon I have gained over 40 lbs since the lasttime we hung out. To say she was shocked was an understatement. Believe me, Iwas shocked at how fast the weight came back.

But it did.
I had already decided to make positive changes, but were taking babysteps towards them. Limiting high fructose corn syrup is the big one. Eatingbetter. Exercising more. Drinking more water. The usual suspects…

She mentioned that I had stuck energy. I wasn’t making anyprogress towards healing, and it was so obvious to her. She and I had visitedabout the I word before, when she gave me a healing before I had surgery. Iwanted to hold out a little more hope…what rather did me in recently isthe fact that people who didn’t think they could ever get pregnant, did.I felt betrayed.

Since I was so fixated on the fact that I could not have children, mybody manifested itself where I looked pregnant. The hardest thing is eventhough I am the mom to two amazing children, deep down inside, I know they arenot mine. They don’t have my eyes or the Big Man’s smile or thoselittle things. I never felt them grow or kick inside me. I didn’t havethat joy of finding out I was going to give life to someone else. I didn’tdo the pregnant waddle. I didn’t get the joy of designing a nursery

 orpicking a name. The worst of it all, is I feel shame. Shame that I could notgive my husband the one thing most wives or even one night stands could do.

Shame that I was less of a woman to him.

Shame that made me feel less than attractive to him, shame that I wasn’ta whole woman.

I began to retreat inside myself, and that is never a good thing.
This is all stuck chi, apparently.

It needs to get unstuck.
So today, I release into the world all those baby dreams. I can’tgo back and change the past. I can do things to manifest a beautiful future,but what I really need to do is focus on the present.