None of the envisioned "what ifs" came to pass, not even close. As with all scheduled major life events, it's been the unexpected, unplanned for, realities that have caused the most consternation.
I made a point last Tuesday before leaving for the hospital of weighing myself. I wanted the evidence based satisfaction of weight loss (things are being take out you know!) this surgery would surely bring. Friday morning I stepped on the scales again to get a measure of the good news. I nearly fainted. Eleven pounds - in the WRONG direction! Now if I had truly thought about it, the weight gain would have made sense – inflammation + IV infusions (of which I know of 5 litres) all add up! I’m happy to report that I’ve now lost all of those 11 pounds plus 2 more. Progress!
I packed my going home wardrobe into my backpack last Monday including a favourite t-shirt and the sloppy "Saturday morning" sweat pants, the ones that all but fall off me. I didn't want a snug waistband to put any pressure on the incisions. Well weight gain = size gain. In the hospital, I got the pants on but it was a struggle. I peeled them off the moment I got home and found one, just one, PJ pants that had a little more room. My husband and daughter, bless them, made a Walmart run to get some 3X (really??? – yes) PJ/lounging pants. As a friend quipped, "All I need now is really bad hair, some tattoos, a tube top and chipped mis-matched nail polish on every digit and I can join the ranks of Wal-Martians." I'm still wearing the big loose PJ's, but not much longer. Progress!
In anticipation of post-op low energy and limited mobility, I planned suitable activities to keep me occupied: scanning cases of ancient slides to digital photos - a totally mindless, repetitive activity; editing the vast collection of travel images; and working on the memoir writing.
It seemed to me that all of these so called activities are more sedentary than energetic, yet each would yield a highly satisfactory sense of accomplishment. The only demand being my backside in a chair at the computer in my favourite room of the house, the kitchen, airy and bright with sunshine.
Except that until yesterday, my body would not bend to the required 90° angle. Not only that but my nether parts, where bruising and stitches abound, could not take the weight of sitting upright. Happily I can report that now I can sit upright in a chair - but only for about 20 minutes at a time. This blog post is going to take a while to keyboard, but it is happening. Progress!
These have been the worst of my problems – no issues with pain or bleeding or any other possible complications – so no true grounds for complaint. This is especially remarkable in light of the fact that the surgeons encountered a bigger job inside me than they thought or have ever seen before. Such was the degree of prolapse that none of my pelvic organs were where they were supposed to be! Nevertheless they got the job done and here I am 9 days post-op, home, carefully mobile and tapping out a blogpost. Progress!
And just what I been doing these days? I've been lounging on the sofa, napping, reading, napping, watching TV and napping, with an occasional "outing" for a stroll along the driveway and back, followed by napping. And because my camera weighs less than 5 pounds (2.2kg) I've increased the digital photo inventory.
From my perch in the living room I've watched the birds clamouring for seed at the feeders.
I've delighted in the bouquets of flowers, plants and fruit that have come my way.
But mostly I've been quietly grateful: for the skill and care of the medical team (primary surgeon - the secondary I only briefly saw just before going under, anaesthetist, and nurses) and most especially for the care, visits and thoughtfulness of my family and friends.
Thank you all.
Bless you all.
Slow and steady wins the race!
©2016 April Hoeller