The missing one, that is. Yeah, freaking FINALLY. And only because Eric is The Awesome.
I pretty much hate my ass wound. I'm tired of dealing with it. Blech.
Our next course of action will be to call a wound/ostomy nurse. And coincidentally, we got one of those packets of advertising that included an ad for a wound/ostomy nurse! How crazy is that? It's a sign that we should call her.
All right, I don't know if it's a sign. But I'll call tomorrow and see when I can get in. My master plan is to see what she thinks about the wound itself, explain how we've been caring for it, and then ask her about some of the ideas that you kind readers have suggested.
If the wound heals as the surgeon suggested it would, I think I still have a bit of time. Perhaps I just need to be patient? I don't know.
I do know I miss the "good old days" when I didn't worry about my body. I get weary worrying about getting enough protein for good healing. I get weary bugging Eric to change my dressing all the time (even though I know he totally doesn't mind, he kicks so much ass). I just am, as I mentioned in my last entry, tired of all this. I feel like my body is a stranger, that it's not mine anymore. It's very hard.
How do you get your body back after something like this? I think I can now empathize with new mothers who complain that they want their body back. It's a crummy feeling. I don't like it.
Deep down I know I will muddle through all this and come out okay. I've gone through a lot of bad times and feelings and come out okay.