Welcome to my week of lag.
My mom wakes up before me, always has always will, lately she hasn’t had to wake me up since medication run-out takes care of that for me. Needing to feel productive as I became “more healed” she’d leave things I could do on my own by my bed and go shower.
This week, she’s turned on the lights to see me sitting up in bed looking like I’m ready to hurt somebody.
I’m continually thanking God that He used the blogging community to bring Katey into my life. The support and encouragement I’ve gotten from people is amazing but Katey seems to know what I need before or even better than I do.
The same goes for Jessi, who went as far as to send me a card my first week home from the hospital. That’s something that’s always special never mind the small detail that I’ve never gotten mail from Tennessee before.
Lack of progress isn’t bothering me, neither is PT burn out (or at least I hope not!), but progress is bothering me; at least not knowing what progress I’ve actually made.
For one I’m going stir crazy. I make up reasons to be driven around the state, city, or even block; just so I can stay out of bed and out of the wheelchair.
Would I go out in public more? Sure. But I’m flu shot-less (seasonal & H1N1) and I’m considered high risk, and being post-op just adds to the reasons. Am I that afraid of the flu? Not really. But I just had major surgery, a minor infection, and a blood transfusion. I seriously doubt my scientifically proven solid immune system cares to do battle with the flu. So that limits my options.
I want, no I need, one of the 2 men that cut into me that September morning to tell me how I’m doing; and I’d even settle for the 3rd guy they called in for an opinion.
I’m due for x-rays in less than a month. But I want them now. I don’t care if I can’t start walking yet or put weight on my feet. I need to SEE the progress. I know then need to too. But they’re content to wait another month. I’m having trouble.
I know I’m making progress; my first pool session I had to have a PT at close range and two pool noodles to hold me up as I walked oh-so-slowly across the short end of the pool.
As of Thursday (less than a month later) I’m noodle-less or as they called it “I lost my noodles,” first one, then the other.
Excitement spread across the pool (which isn’t that hard), as one person said to me, “I lost my noodle a long time ago, but that means something else,” either way even the least excitable people were excited.
I can sit on & use (if you can call it that) the exercise bike without my knees crashing together in a nanosecond. It’s not the best positioning but you can already call surgery a success if you’ve seen the “before” and were there for the “after.”
Now I’m just telling myself how-much-of-a-success this turns out to be is up to me; because at this point it really is. I really could use some encouragement from the slice & dicers though.
I know I’m making progress. But how does it look on the inside? Can they even tell?
No news isn’t always good news.
No news isn’t always bad news.
Sometimes no news is just no news.