Christmas is over. This year it felt very hollow. Not the family or anything like that. Usually at this time of year I feel differently. I am outwardly focused. Trying to finish finals, go shopping, decorate, help whoever I can. Cooking huge meals and delicious desserts while singing my favorite traditional carols at full volume.
This year, November and December were all about myself. Visiting doctors, taking pain medications, MRIs, sleeping, lots of sleeping. Then the surgery. Everything changed. I needed help sitting up. Someone was feeding me. Walking me to the restroom.
Today, 27 days from the table, I can fix really easy food for for myself. I don’t use the walker. I clean myself up. I can spend a few hours out of the house, though it is exhausting.
People want to come visit, but it is difficult because I never know how I will feel or if my body will try something new. A good friend came to visit. Luckily, not much happened but she is a nurse and knows how to handle the unexpected body quirk.
For the past 2 days I have been sleeping a lot. Not sure why, but when my body says “sleep” I make sure to listen. My days blur together; I don’t always know if something happened today or yesterday.
My healing is my main focus. I want to get better so I can actively help and love others. That’s why the season feels so empty. It been all about me. Even for my family, it has been all about my recovery. No trees or lights, no listening to Handle’s Messiah. They have been getting prescriptions, taking me to post-op appointments, doing my laundry, buying all the crazy little things I need. Sitting with me so my sister can rest.
I feel like I swallowed the holiday season. I know I didn’t, and I would be there for any one of them, no matter the time of year. We still enjoyed our small Christmas gathering. We had a big breakfast with pancakes, eggs, Applewood bacon, maple sausage, grits, creamed corn, cheddar biscuits. It was all good. I now understand love on a deeper level. Not a single person in my family has complained about how my condition has affected their lives. No one has made me feel bad. They have let me know that they are tired. That is to be expected. They put a lot of effort into seeing that I am comfortable and in good spirits every day.
Look, if people are willing to care for you, know that they are working very hard and long hours to see to your care. They are good folks if they don’t make it your business to know a lot of how they feel. So you have to be kind to your caretaker. Thank you. Say it. All the time. Please. It’s very much in fashion to be polite as a sign of your gratitude. And if they come to you with a grievance, listen and find a way to deal with it that satisfies both parties.
After getting surgery on my sinuses, I asked my sister to make me Macon and eggs. Multiple times a day. Multiple days in a row. In top of the other things she had to do to care for me, like clean out my nose (where she coined the phrase “bloodmucous”), follow my 3 hour med cycle, and everything else. On day 3 she looked terrible, like she had been locked in a dungeon for a few months without light. No sleep. Kinda in a daze. Following preset alarms with instructions on the phone. On day 4, she came in the room and announced that she cooked the bacon. ALL the bacon. And the ends and pieces too. There would be no more bacon and eggs. NO MORE!!
See, I didn’t consider that she needed time to rest and there is peanut butter and jelly. Now, I am better about that. Sometimes we order in. Sometimes Mom brings food. Sometimes she cooks. It’s easier on her this way so, this time she looked a lot better on day 3. This time, she just looked like she spent the weekend partying. It’s been a journey and it isn’t over yet. I can’t even pour a gallon of milk yet. But I did put peanut butter on bread, so, yeah!
Now, I am really wanting to get out and see the world I miss so much. Focus on something besides myself.
Soon.
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The Life of a Music Monkey 