I have been doing… nothing really. Apart from growing bones and letting my wounds heal. But maybe that is not “nothing”.
2 weeks ago I came home to my parents place. I have a hospital bed in their living room, a recliner from my great aunt who died last September, as well as her wheelchair, and my grandma’s walker. I love it how my aunt seems to help me, reaching across the border of life and death.
My days are… boring really. I spend the mornings in the recliner, pushing the backward- and forward-button a thousand times as I can’t sit in the same position for more that 10 minutes. My butt hurts. Yes sitting on broken bones hurts. And it freaks me out thinking of what my pelvis looks like under my skin. A puzzle of fractures and screws trying to settle and grow back together. Around noon a nurse comes to give me my daily shot of blood thinner. It’s hard to find much fat on my stomac (see it’s not always good to be skinny) to put the needle in and so these shots aren’t the most pleasant to me. After lunch I move to my bed cause I can no longer sit. And then I nap, watch Netflix (I’m still too exhausted to start reading, even though a bunch of wonderful books is waiting for me), nap some more and ask Daniel to help me out of bed to get to the bathroom. O my days are so exciting :cP
After 2 weeks I decided to stop taking the heavier pain meds, cause my stomac hates them and I had to befriend a vomit bucket. I hate vomiting. And I hate vomit buckets. More than pain. So all I take now is tylenol (paracetamol) 2 or 3 times a day and I live with the pain. You can’t have it all right?!
Moving around with my walker has gotten a bit easier. I am not allowed any weight bearing on my left leg (so I can’t really “walk”, but I’m trying to imitate a “walking movement”), and it’s funny what not putting weight on a leg does to it: It turns purple and it get swollen if I keep it down for too long. Also after 3 weeks of mainly laying down, my heel is starting to develop a bedsore (ow damn that word just sounds disgusting) because I can’t move at night, so before it gets worse, I have to start putting something under my ankle so my heel no longer touches the bed. I tell you… the problems of a 34 year old!
It’s frustrating to see how little I can do at 3 weeks post op. I started reading blogs of other PAO warriors and I probably shouldn’t have done that. I’m so damn slow. I can’t put on my underwear, pants, socks or shoes by myself. I hardly get in and out of bed by myself (and if I make it I look like a stranded whale on the beach). I still don’t make it into the shower, not even with help. I can’t turn over to my non-op side yet, so I’m still laying on my back like a brick most hours of the day,…
No don’t worry I’m not pitying myself. I’m just not sure whether I should push myself more or not. Somehow I really wanna be careful, not take any risks. This whole procedure feels so delicate. I feel delicate. Both my body and my soul.
Apart from all the frustration and all the questions whether I’m doing this right or not, I am actually feeling hopeful and I am surprised by my own patience. I don’t give much of a fuck that I can’t sleep at night and I know that eventually all will get better. So I’m just sitting (laying) this shit out. 3 more weeks till my control appointment with my surgeon. Let’s hope my bones are growing well.
Also (hm seems like I got stuff to tell anyway) I can feel this whole process is working on me, is changing me. Apart from feeling “delicate” I feel my heart growing even softer than it already was (not in a “weak” way but in a strong compassionate way). This indeed is a Rite of Passage, as I can feel the transformation going on. Incorporation is literally happening in my broken and new growing bones, and it is reflecting in my soul. I remember saying before the surgery “I’m sure this will somehow someway make me a ‘better’ person,” and I could imagine how this would work on me and try to picture myself in the future. But right now right here I can really feel something is happening inside of me, it is moving me and working on me. I cannot really grab it yet, but it’s there, and it’s delicate, yet growing stronger just like my broken bones.
Damn, this must be the most boring blog post since the (almost) 4 year existence of my blog. O well. There are worse things than that. Plus: This too shall pass.
a still incredibly humble and very grateful Cat xxx