Post op day 5:
As much as I would like this to be one of my more positive entries unfortunately it’s nothing but the opposite.
Rewind to Friday–I was still in the hospital and I thought for sure that “I got this”. My pain (really my only complaint) was finally under control after switching to a new med. My appetite was O.K., as was to be expected. Everyone was in agreement; it was time for Jodi to go home. Off I went, with a smile, home to (what I figured would be) the couch. It was a rude awakening for me. The couch?!?! Yeah right. One might think, “how tiring can laying on a couch be”? After having major surgery–it can be majorly tiring. So Saturday ended early, in a pool of tears– with my nurses, Nate and Bekah, putting me to bed before the football game. I surrendered without dispute and quickly fell asleep.
Here it is Tuesday… And I feel no need to recap in full detail– the horror (over exaggerating of course, but, kind of not really) of my experience (but I’ll try). The past few days have been no picnic and I feel like I have ran the gauntlet. Its sort of felt like the old video game Super Punch Out– the little health meter (down in the corner of my screen) is inching down as I duke it out, trying to avoid the K.O. best I can. Even though I’ve been wearing my “Motherfucking Girl Power” socks, it feels like I’ve been super punched out of them on several occasions. I feel like I’ve finally met my match and I am waving the white flag. I’m fighting the big boss now– first punch, nausea and pain (health score- down 25%), left hook, violent barfing with constipation (score down another 25%), throat jab, stupid bladder infection (down another 20%), and finally the upper cut, stripping my wound drain (down another 10%). I have about 10% left that I am fighting with and hoping to gain more power but its slowly regenerating.
My breast, that once pointed North or South now points somewhere to the far east- the compass face has been removed. My body is entirely wiped out and it is clearly telling me, it can take no more– not even a trip to the couch. I’ve accepted (4 days later) that being in bed (for now) is where I need to be. I have no energy to leave the bed or even to fight myself over it anymore.
Through all this, of course, is my dear Coraline. One of, if not the hardest part has been not being able to just scoop up her. Whether its just to feed her, snuggle her or to pick her up when she gets fussy and fix it (the special way only a mommy can). I’m left watching other people caring for her or saying goodbye while she goes and has a sleepover at Mimi’s. It honestly feels like a form of suffering in silence watching other people care for her, since my mommy urges are so strong and I know how to do everything just right. I really could care less about taking care of myself, I just want to make sure my baby is happy. As I acquiesce to my (hopefully) brief convalescence, I find some relief from time to time. I get a bout of clarity from the Dilaudid cloud that has temporarily covered my brain and I get it…I really do. I understand that Mommy needs to get better and that Cora is just fine. She is with people who love her so much and are more than capable of taking excellent care of her. We are fortunate. I know that the way I feel about the current situation with Cora certainly isn’t a failure. I did all of this for her, but deep down, that mommy guilt still bites me right in the heart. Sometimes I’m left feeling like I’m letting her down or I’m failing her. While I’m sleeping the day away someone else is rocking my baby to sleep– when I can’t help but feel that I should be the one– that’s my job. I know it sounds like crazy talk, but you Moms out there know exactly where I am coming from. This is, and will continue to be one of the biggest challenges on this road to recovery– watching other people do the activity that I most want to be able to– taking care of my sweet Cora.
Like I said in the beginning, I wish I had something good to say, but I don’t. This sucks. I am in pain,nauseous,my chest looks like a battle field, and on top of all that I can’t even hold my baby. Scratch that 😉 On a positive note, there has been lots of yummy food delivered to my house. Thank you everyone! Nate is being fed like a king, and as much as I too may feel like gastronomic royalty, some of the spoils of this cancer war are ending up in the toilet, partially digested. Side note, Bekah helped me write much of this as I am literally too tired to blog (have it be known, big words credit goes to her).