Day 38: I just made a rookie mistake. After church (I drove! Ron was needing to stay late), I got in the car and headed to the grocery store as I often do when I leave church alone. Made my mental list, pulled into a space, opened the car door...BAM! A moment of recognition that under no circumstances am I going to be able to grab a grocery cart, pile it high with needed items while pushing it around, then once home, unpack the items to take in the house. I promptly closed the car door and came home holding my frustration in my hand instead of the gallon of milk we need for tomorrow. Sigh. There for a moment I guess I remembered the mastectomy but not the limitation of such. Maybe that is a silver lining that this is going to soon take a back seat.
38 days that seemed to last 78. Noah was stuck in an ark for forty. How in the world did he do it? And he had giraffes banging their heads on the roof top and monkeys swinging from the rafters. Today, I felt like banging my head. I got very little sleep last night and it definitely set the mood for my day. My pep is missing. I can't tell you how many nights 2 a.m has rolled around and I bolt straight up in bed wide awake. Then for the next 2-3 hours, I'm desperately wanting to be asleep but instead find myself mentally navigating navigating the complexity of this or that. Worry is my enemy these last few days.
Last night, it was the worry of returning to work in 2 days. How in the world am I going to pull that off? How is my stamina going to hold through the 8 hours? How about conquering the rush hour commute? How am I going to fit a wound cleaning into the middle of my day in a bathroom that shares 3 stalls and one common mirror. How am I going to fit sleep and getting ready in under 2 hours into each night and morning? How am I going to go back to my clinic space where this journey lies virtually untold? How am I going to dive right back in where I left off? I'm very aware that I alone am not capable of such a feat. I'm going to need a whopping dose of God by my side (or else I need to come into a large sum of money so I can stay in my comfy cozy cocoon of home). Remember those days of my going crazy for being on house arrest? Well, I am now reconsidering that nuisance. This, folks, is where I need some prayer coverage. I just don't feel ready. Regardless, Monday morning is coming with a vengeance. I better grab on.
Happy to report the spot/wound seems to be stable at last check yesterday. It's driving me a bit crazy, particularly during the cleaning, but there didn't seem to be any change in size when we checked it last night. Not getting smaller yet, but grateful to not see any progression either. Hopeful to have the same report tonight.
I've reached the point in this drama where I am now on the back slope. Not seeing many changes from day to day. I have to trend over a week to see what is improving. It's weird that I have found myself here. August seemed so life altering every single day. One day a boob, the next day a concave chest. Drains. Incisions. Reconstruction. Incisions again. Drains again. High emotions. Early September equally as challenging. Now, watch and wait. Wait for the swelling to resolve. Wait for the shape to settle out. Wait for the incisions to heal. wait for the wound to skidaddle. Wait for full strength and flexibility to return. Wait for side sleeping (that was disastrous!). Wait for the impostors to feel like family. Just a lot of wait. I guess I'm grateful and comforted that this is the stage I now find myself. Soon, this shall be yesterday's news, another niche in the story of me, and something else will come along to over shadow it's placement. Wonder what that will be? As I mentioned before in another post, I hope your story of triumph over what ever you face soon replaces mine. I'm anxiously waiting to see your opening line.
For now, back to the evening at hand go I (sadly, with no groceries in tow).
