So. I’ve slacked off with my posting, eh? I had every intention when I started this blog of posting regularly during my recovery. That hasn’t exactly worked out that way, has it? I will attempt to give an accurate account of how I felt at various times during the past 10 weeks by sorting through my Facebook updates, text messages to friends and notes from doctor appointments. I’ll just start here and work my way backwards.
Ten weeks. I can’t believe it’s been that long since I was sliced up. I still feel pretty damn terrible. I’m still using my cane to get around, but I try to make myself not use it around the house as much as possible. I’m still in pain daily, severe pain. In all honesty, it’s worse than it was before surgery. I’m on Fentanyl, Percocet, Lyrica, Cymbalta and a whole bunch of other crap daily. My incision has healed well, though it still itches and burns occasionally, and it’s still lumpy from scar tissue. Once the 28 staples were removed, I started massaging it with vitamin E oil daily, in an attempt to break up the scar tissue. The pain remains in my back, hips and legs, and my physical activity is still very limited. I am tired all the time and feel like I have no energy. I can’t sit longer than 30 minutes without feeling like my back is going to snap in half.
Emotionally, I am broken. I feel like this whole thing was pointless. I am on the verge of just giving up and giving in. I knew going into this that it would be a long recovery, but I am becoming impatient. It feels like I take one step forward and 5 steps back. There are days when I just don’t care anymore, days when I question my decision to undergo such a serious surgery. I also have good days when I can see and feel small improvements. I am definitely stronger than I was 10 weeks ago, yet there are so many things I am unable to do, things that I could do a year ago, even though it hurt. This whole thing has been an emotional roller coaster, so many ups and downs. I know I need to give my body time to heal, but some days it’s just so hard. I want my life back. I question why this happened to me, and cry about the unfairness of it all. I do know that it could always be worse. But right now, it feels like things will never be normal again, yet I refuse to accept this as my new life.
So there it is, and here I am. My next post will talk about the surgery itself, as well as the first few days following surgery. I will talk about the immediate impact surgery had on my day to day life, physical therapy, how I coped with having to ask for help and the toll this has all taken on my family and friends.
Here’s a photo of my incision as it looks today. You can see that they tried to line up my tattoo, but it didn’t exactly work out. I suppose, given the circumstances, they did the best they could. The “hole” above and to the right of the scar is from the drain that I had to have for about a week post op.