Every day I'm feeling different. Hey, every couple of hours things shift. And sometimes, especially when I'm not home and pretending all is fine, I go from miracle post-surgery woman to barely being able to hold my head up, let alone walk, in a matter of seconds.
This place, 12 days after transplant is amazingly better than it's been. But I'm not even close to being back to where I was. And so I thought I'd take a snapshot of right now, to remember and commemorate this part of the journey.
I'm not in pain. Not stabbing, throbbing pain like I was at certain points. But I'm sore. My sides, my ribs are tender to touch. My solar plexus feels like someone kicked me, hard, a few hours ago and I'm still slightly doubled over from the attack. My belly button and the 2 other laproscopic points hurt when even lightly pressed. Or when a dog or 2 wanders across. This morning, as Gracie perched on my abdomen and the Moochi jumped on, I could only cry from the deep soreness.
And my big scar-to-be (relative to the mini entry points listed above) the thin, straight 3 inches below my belly button, aches. On the surface. Inside. It's swollen and puffy and hard, distending that small area of my body out in an unnatural way. and when I stay one position too long ache travels from there to my inner thighs and lower chest.
The rest of the belly swell is almost gone. I wore pre-surgery pants yesterday that were comfy until the last half hour or so.
The bruises are receding. The 2 on my left thigh (heparin pump and unidentified) are almost gone. The purple horizontal line of blotches traversing my middle isn't nearly as vibrant as it was.
Gas. Ah, gas. The gas bubble that felt remarkably like being 5 or 6 months pregnant, keeping me from eating or sleeping, is mostly gone. There are bouts of nausea, of intense food cravings that wake me up near tears, satisfied only by the whitest, most carb-laden food I can find. This morning I was at a diner at 7:15 for pancakes, something I hadn't ordered from a menu in more years than I can remember.
That I've come this far in this short period of time is pretty amazing. I guess though, that I'd thought I'd be farther along and not here. I feel tentative. Shaky. Scared to be too far away from home in case I can't get back when the crash comes. Instead of walking with purpose, I walk with caution. It's not easy to sit up straight for too long. And even though the pain is so much better than it was, I am exceedingly aware of the effects of Tylenol wearing off. Like right now.
Aside from the physical set backs, I've lost my center, my grounding. It's hard to breathe, really breathe, deep breathe. I'm not anxious but I'm not calm, not in the way I finally found I could be towards the end, before the transplant. Its hard accepting this place. It's hard to take care of my body the way I should, for all it went through and all the healing it has to do. That goes for my soul too.
I wish I could appreciate me more right now. For the gift I gave, for how my body handled the shock and awe, for how I survived the experience without breaking down.
Right now I can't. But maybe that will come with time too.