Reality of Being Home Sets In...

June 16, 2017
Friday

Dear Readers,

It is early morning. Each day the sun rises and wakes me from a deep slumber. Since I have no curtains on the french doors to the cottage, my furry kids recognize the dawn as a time to potty, stretch their sleepy legs, and, most importantly, enjoy some yummy kibble (the stinkier the kibble, the more they love it!). They are always so exuberant, yipping and yapping their way outside, down the sidewalk, and into the casa. Sheer mayhem but I love it ... and them!

It has been with much prayer that I continue to share my journey of recovery 2017 with others. Michael has read my blogs and says, "Oh, but there was so much more." To him, I have said, "Probably, but this is what the Lord has revealed to be passed on."

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."

~Deuteronomy 31:8

My trip home from the hospital was very uneventful. I was strapped in some pretty heavy duty body armor and numb from pain meds and muscle relaxers. I was grateful for the physical therapy I had before surgery which gave me added upper body strength to pull myself up from a prone position and motivate my way around my bed. All good...

Before my surgery, I had prepared the cottage to be more like a hospital room, removing obstacles and placing my recliner closer to my bed. I had a table that held necessities like Kleenex and water. Miss Susie brought a baby monitor so that Michael could hear me if I called out. I was remembering past surgeries and thought I had all the bases covered. Uh-huh... 

The day after I got home, Home Health came to assess my physical well being. Since my spine and muscles needed to heal, my movement was limited to walking which I did a lot of (first with a walker, then a cane, then solo). It felt so good to walk without the nerve pain shooting down my groin and right leg. They called me "amazing (for what I'd been through)," I called myself, "a work in progress (for where I wanted to be)."

The Home Health nurse encouraged me to get up and get dressed every day. She explained that patients who stayed in their night clothes tended to think of themselves as sick whereas those that got dressed were ready to take on their days. Looking back, I would say that this was very true. 

Surgery was behind me. My biggest hurdles were before me and the reality of being at home began to set in. My range of motion was severely impaired which made it difficult to do anything that required bending forward. I had orders to do NO twisting of any kind and had a lifting limit of 5 pounds. For the first time in my life, I felt like an invalid and I hated that. 

You know what was the most difficult? The loss of dignity. The simplest tasks seemed so overwhelming. I was unable to dress and undress myself and putting on socks and shoes? Well, let's just say if Michael didn't put them on me, they didn't get put on. Going to the bathroom was a major difficulty and one I needed help with. It wasn't pretty...

My hair was dirty and unkempt, my nails a mess, and my body sweaty from not being able to shower. The good thing about pain meds? I could have cared less at that point. I laugh thinking about all the crazy things I said "under the influence!" At least I was a happy kind of goofy!

Cleaning, laundry, and fixing meals was out of the question. Michael continued to work his regular schedule and we had to think out of the box and ahead of time to make sure I was able to fend for myself. He came home to help me to the bathroom and fix food. I had my cell phone close by and my neighbor checked on me.

One day Michael came home to find me in a heap of tears. Finn had been outside digging and when he came in he promptly jumped up on my bed and there was mud all over him, me, and my bed. I had tried to clean his paws, clean myself up, and take the sheets off my bed. I just couldn't... I wondered if life would ever get back to normal. Yes, the reality of an extensive extended recovery was starting to set in.
                                    
To keep the pain at bay meant taking some heavy duty meds which made my vision blurry limiting reading and doing things with my hands. My mind was "off" due to the post-surgery effects of anesthesia. Sometimes I couldn't think of words to say and remembering when to take medication was a nightmare. I know I received phone calls but by the end of the day, they were lost in a fog. I tried my best to be upbeat and positive yet there were times when my heart cried with the tears of frustration and sadness. I felt lost in a sea of stinkin' thinking. Dare I say it? I needed that affirmation that I was worthy of being loved and cared about.

As days went on, I began to regain some sense of normalcy. I was able to wash my hair and sink baths gave way to stepping into a shower. I was making great strides.  That is until I was hit by another devastating blow which I will talk about in my next blog. That blow came out of nowhere and was one that really took the wind out of my sails. 

Until one experiences "something,"
 it is difficult to comprehend what the struggle is all about. Out of sight, out of mind. There are those struggling to put food on the table but as long as we don't look at them, they don't exist. There are those unable to make it to the bathroom or dress themselves or are having memory lapses ~ if we don't see them, they don't really exist. I learned that they do exist. I learned that compassion is a verb and that stepping up means making someone else's life a little easier even though it might not be convenient. Believe me, I learned a lot in my initial time in recovery ... things I will never forget. 

Today, I pray for caregivers ~ the ones who pick up the slack when those, like me, can't do for themselves. I thank God for those who go beyond their own comfort to minister to others in their time of need. I ask that extra measures of strength, compassion, and grace be given to those who are able to give so unselfishly. Those willing to show up, don an apron, move a mop, change a bed, fold clothes, and make meals. I thank you for the encouragers who are able to lend an ear and feed wisdom into tired bodies. I pray for those who have been in the ICU and are struggling to regain muscle tone and thoughts of reality. Father God, you and I both know that the road to wellness is a rough one mixed with frustrating set-backs and glorious strides forward. Amen.

I leave you today in Christ's love, Miss Dottie

PS To heal completely has meant a revival of mind, body, and spirit. It has meant taking it one day at a time and not giving up. It has meant relying on God and others to make it through each day. It has meant failing yet trying again the next day. It has meant giving grace to self. When no one was there, it ultimately meant relying on God for his protection and provision.