There are two things about healing that are giving me trouble these days. Each has its own identity, yet seems intrinsically linked to the other. I want to talk about both of them today.
First, healing takes so much longer than one thinks it should.
My Dad and I had surgery 35 days ago today. It is hard to believe that so little time has passed. It feels that it was yesterday and months ago at the same time. It is times like these that I can see time as an accordion—passing through two points only to truly register the weight at each end. My time differentials exist in my scars…the healing wounds that show what has transpired. I can pull up my shirt and see the knitted, thin, red slits on my belly. Bruises still kiss the laparoscopic wounds, while the nerves that reside on the surface of my skin run hot or cold depending on some whim that I cannot fathom. Internal electric shocks accompany some tasks, but most of my pain has been gone for a week or more. What remains is lingering soreness, as if I have done too many exercises.
I feel the weight of the surgery most in my energy. My energy level feels to be full volume some hours, and others it lags. I have learned to sit down and grab a book on those occasions, relishing in the remedy of reading. Other days it is harder to let myself sit and read. This leads me to my second issue.
I look good.
Writing this sounds ridiculously narcissistic. I don’t mean that I’m hot, sexy, or some beacon of feminine beauty. I mean that I look healthy, and rested, and healed. In fact, I look more rested and happier than I did going into the surgery. This is why so many friends and family members forget that I have even donated a kidney.
For some, this translates into an expectation that I can begin to do all of the things that I did before. I admit that I have been in the habit of doing everything for everyone for a great many years. This has given me an over the top, super-woman reputation. It is unfounded; I am just a doer. Doers see a problem, or a task, or a need and seek to fill it. What we do not often do is take care of ourselves. That must be why I look so good these days. I have been taking care of myself. I hope to remember that.
Lately, guilt has been creeping around the edges of my life. So I woke up early this Tuesday, drove to the grocery store, went shopping, came home, put the groceries away, cleaned the kitchen, and then made dinner for my family. Now I have cooked since I have gotten home, but this dinner was prepared from scratch (as I would most nights.) I also made homemade scones so that we could have Strawberry Shortcakes for dessert. The kids had the best time whipping the heavy whipping cream. How could I have begrudged them that little extra?
That evening, and all of the next day I paid for it. I felt as if someone had sucked all of the life out of my body. I was wracked with cramps and generally uncomfortable—but mostly exhausted. In fact, I was almost too exhausted to sleep.
Today, I have recovered a great deal of my energy. I walked on the treadmill for about 20 minutes and finished a puzzle with my kids. Taking it easy should be a prescription that I wear on my chest like a badge. Perhaps it should be printed upside down so that I can read it too.
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