Let me tell you...

recovery is boring. I'm sick of this recliner and the view out the window. I have the internet, but man, even that's not really very fun lately. I get up for little walks, but my stitches hurt and it feels like my nonexistent rectum is going to fall out if I'm on my feet too long.

Isn't that weird? I don't have a rectum. Or an anus. Or a chunk of my colon (sigmoid, I believe). The stitches in my butt are bumpy, and it's just unnerving to think about there not being anything there. Eric and I were talking last night about whether or not the surgeon or either of my other doctors had mentioned rates of survival or what stage I'm at. They haven't. But I didn't ask. At one point I said, "Well should I have asked about rates of survival before I let someone cut me up?" I suppose it's late to have second thoughts, but there it is. I really do believe my surgeon when he said I could have this surgery or I could die. I'm so grateful for his accurate diagnosis and his confidence in my treatment. And I still don't want to know what my odds are, not really. In the cancer game, I think there is such a thing as too much information. At least there is for me.

Awake

I had a crummy sleeping night last night, at least the second half. Sleeping on my back apparently doesn't agree with me much at all. I tend to sleep fine the first chunk of the night, wake up at about 3:30 or so for pain meds, and after that it's hit or miss. Tonight I tried laying on my right side, but that wasn't a whole lot better. So now I'm back in the recliner with what has become my no fail back hurting remedy: heating pad, ibuprofen, and a little walking/stretching before I sit down. It sucks that on top of everything else, my back is rebelling against my bed.

I'm noticing less hurting from the stitches, that's good news. They still hurt, don't get me wrong, but it's a little less every day. I'm dreading the doctor looking at them because if it's anything like the nurse looking at them...that hurt. I'm weary of hurty things.

While I was laying in bed considering whether or not to get up, I started thinking about my first chemo day. It's going to be a long day. We have to be at the cancer center in the morning for labs, then we'll see the nurse practioner. After that I get hooked up for 3-4 hours. I'll get the chemo bag again, and we'll be on our way to my follow up appointment with the surgeon. I think all that will really wear me out and I hope my stitches don't hurt too much. I'm worried about how I'll react to the chemo. It's more scary stuff in a long line of scary stuff.

I don't even know what to bring to chemo, I suppose I should figure that out.

Is it weird that I'm still in disbelief that this is happening, that it's really happening? It feels like a bad dream.

Weird!

I totally dreamt about pooping stomas last night, and it was the weirdest thing. We've been having some pancaking issues with my stoma...wait, you don't know what that is? Oh wait until you hear this. Pancaking is when the poop comes out all mashy and doesn't make its way to the bottom of the pouch, but keeps building up around the wafer so when you take the pouch off, it's a big old poop pancake. Bet you'll never think of pancakes the same way again!

Anyway, in my dream I was having poop issues. We had the appliance off and were trying to do some cleaning and troubleshooting. Suddenly the output wouldn't stop, and it was full of corn! (Reese is obsessed with corn poop, maybe that's where this came from??) I can't even remember the last time I ate corn. I woke up thinking it was real and felt my pouch right away, expecting it to be full. It wasn't. It was only a dream.

I do tend to have very vivid, realistic dreams while taking this vicodin though. I don't know if that's normal. I get all sweaty at night too and my oncologist said that's a side effect of the vicodin as well. Eric and I were joking that it could be the vicodin, or it could be the low grade fever I've been running on and off, or it could be a menopause symptom. It could be anything! I'm not a fan of the night sweats though. Blech.

The plan for today...well, so far there is no plan. I'm going to enjoy the last few days of my mom's visit, that's for sure.

Delete

I wrote some stuff and it sounded fake, so I hit the old delete button. It happens sometimes (that's what my Eli would say, haha).

Instead of the crappy crap I was going to write about, here I am with a relatively blank blog. I must confess, I feel like I've spent the majority of the last handful of entries complaining. Eric disagreed with me when I mentioned this last night, but maybe he was just being nice. I don't like bitching about stuff, I've always thought it's not a very helpful strategy in any situation. A little complaining is okay to a point, but I feel like I've been hardcore lately.

I will tell you though that recovery from this surgery has been hard. Comparing it to other difficult things I've done, I think it might just be Hard Thing #1. Radiation healing was hard, but by the time I was three weeks out from the end of radiation, I was mostly healed. I've never had major surgery before, but according to people who have had this or similar surgeries, what I'm going through is normal.

Maybe that's the problem. I don't want to be normal. I went through radiation/chemo doing better than the average person. Deep down, I want to rock and roll this, to be amazing, to heal super fast, to get back to life. It's not happening that way, things are slow, and I'm frustrated. I think I need some Serenity Now! Or more vicodin?

I know I need to give myself permission to REST. I need to be okay with asking for help. I need to respect my body's limitations right now.

Every day is a teensy bit better. I can do this.

Well, I'm off to pee in a cup. Positive thoughts that my UTI is gone would be appreicated, although I think it miiiiiiiight be hanging on. If I got some super bug in the hospital, I'm going to be super pissed and someone is going to get a strongly worded letter, man.

Three weeks, two weeks...

As in, three weeks since surgery, and two weeks that I've been home.

What? That's what Eric gently reminded me of while I was crying last night. Why does it feel like it's been an eternity? I've only been home for two weeks! Just three weeks ago I got all cut up. Well no wonder my ass still hurts. I still feel like someone kicked my ass, but I think I'm getting better every day. I know I need to be gentle with myself and let myself rest. I need to stop stressing about what I can't do. Before I know it, I'll be back to my old antics, running around town, wrangling my own children, cooking my own meals.

We did decide to gather up people to help with the kids, to make sure they at least get lunch. I don't know how I'll be feeling next week, but it makes me feel better to have our bases covered. And I'm sure my kids like to eat lunch, haha.

Fresh Air!!

Yes, my mom, the kids, and I got out of the house this morning. I was on the fence until about 8am, but then decided it would be a good idea to at least pop in to the LLL meeting. As with almost everything, I was right about it being a good idea (haha). I got to talk to friends I haven't seen in a while, and got to see everyone's babes. We did end up sneaking out before the meeting was over, but I think we were there for about an hour. I brought a pillow to cushion the chair, which sort of helped. There was still a great deal of shifting and standing once in a while too.

I do feel better mentally. It's hard to look at the same old messy living room (thanks, kids) day after day. I'm used to seeing friends more often, and the kids are used to playing with their friends. I can tell the outing tired me out a bit though. I'm ready for rest time!

Trying to hang in there

Recovering sucks. It takes too long and makes me feel useless. I'm not used to sitting around all day. I'm not used to my body hurting. I don't like not being able to take care of business.

I don't even feel like going out anywhere. My ass is still discharging, which is gross and smelly. My butt stitches hurt and sitting in a chair other than my recliner makes me cringe. I don't like wearing pajama pants out because my regular pants either don't fit because my belly is still swollen or don't work with my ostomy.

It is just one big bummer and I'm going to bitch about it.

I cried several times today because I'm frustrated and tired and feeling crummy. I was running a low grade fever again this afternoon. I took my last dose of cipro tonight, so I don't think it's still the UTI, but we'll find out when I retest in a couple days.

A wise friend of mine told me to quit worrying about tomorrow and just deal with today. That is such good advice, because realistically I don't know what the next day, week, or month will hold. but my mom is leaving in six days and I think I'm still going to need help with the kids, at least for part of the days when Eric is at work. There have been so many offers that deep down I know we'll be fine. I'm just so tired of dealing with all this shit. It makes you weary and irritated and tired.

It's not all wah wah wah around here though. Funny things like my stoma pooping on my foot last night. Or the kids deciding that they live in a musical and singing for an hour this morning. Or Eric saying funny stuff (which he does all the time...good thing my ab stitches are healing nicely!). I totally know everything is going to work out the way it's supposed to, but it's so easy to get mired in the day to day, parked in the recliner, low grade fever, no appetite blues. So easy.

One day at a time. This too shall pass.

I just wish it would pass quickly.