I Just Realized It Was Thursday and Other Things That Happen Post-Op

Yeah, I did.  It's true. I didn't know it was Thursday. My husband referenced a "Thursday thing" in a text to me just now and my response was "Oh, ok!  I forgot it was Thursday. #lazybumprobs."   I am now 10 days post surgery and I can't keep the days straight because mostly all I've done in these past 10 days is sleep, rest, read, watch movies, read, read, sleep, write and watch TV.  Also, I only use "hashtags" when I am trying to be funny.  I'm too old to really get them.  I mostly use them with my sisters who find them equally as stupid as I do.
As most of you know if you've read my previous blog, I had a full abdominal hysterectomy on March 12th.  I am now shy a uterus, a cervix, and a pair of fallopian tubes and ovaries.  I've gained an 8-9 inch (I'm poorly estimating here because I'm very terrible at measurements) incision across my lower belly.  It stings and it burns and it's held together by stitches on the inside and glue on the outside and about 10 sterile strips.  My belly is so sore that things I took for granted before like getting up off the couch, or walking, or standing, or shaving my legs, or sleeping, hurts. My back aches.  I hear this is phantom ovary pain.  Keaton is now faster than me.  I am allowed to walk for 10 minutes a day which gets me about 5 houses down the street and back (I will give myself this:  the houses in my neighborhood are kind of far apart.) But yesterday, Jim and I kept having to tell Keats to "slow down and wait for Mommy".

  This is how far ahead he was walking at his normal pace that I could not keep up with.  But, it feels really good to be out and even better to get back to some sort of activity even if it is only 10 minutes a day. 
Surgery day was scary for me.  I thought that the lead up to it was the worst.  I had been so anxious and stressed, that I'd been prescribed anti-anxiety medication.  I cleaned my house top to bottom the day before my surgery, just to keep me busy.  But the actual day was intense. 
I couldn't stop my legs from shaking from nerves from the moment we walked through the hospital doors.  I clenched and unclenched my fists.  My chest ached like I had an elephant on me.  When they made me say goodbye to Jim when it was time to take me back, I cried uncontrollably.  I was so scared.  I envisioned them thinking I was asleep, but that I was only paralyzed because the anesthesia hadn't worked and so I couldn't move, or speak, but I could feel everything.  I envisioned an accident happening where something would get "knicked" that shouldn't and that there would be irrepairable damage.  (Side note, I fully trusted Dr. Wellman and I love him with all my heart, but this is what my mind does to me).  I envisioned not seeing Jim and Keaton again.  And I felt the end of something that I never ever wanted to end.  Once I spoke with the anesthiologist, they gave me something to take the edge off and I don't remember much after that.  I was supposed to have a spinal block, but they couldn't do it because of my shaking, so I guess I just got the regular 'ol anesthesia.  I remember being wheeled back to the OR and the mask coming down over my mouth and that's it.  Until I woke up crying, screaming, and white knuckling the bed in intense pain. (And I thought I was tough).   Nurses telling me "they said you'd either wake up slowly and peacefully or abruptly and in intense pain. So, we're going do do what we can to help you."  I was in recovery for 5 hours.  I started itching like a maniac and crying for Jim.  They gave me Benadryl for the reaction, but then combined with the other meds, it knocked me on my ass.  And every time I fell asleep an alarm would go off because my oxygen levels would get too low and I'd quit breathing.  I came out of surgery at 9am.  Finally, close to 2pm, I got to leave recovery to go see my Jim and Mom.  I cried hard when I saw his face and got to hold his hand.  I was so relieved and overwhelmed. My Mom joked that her and Jim had learned a lot about each other while they waited.  :) 
That day was not easy.  They gave me a pain medication drip.  So, Dr. Wellman told me to press it whenever I wanted and it was there so that I wouldn't be in pain; if I had a green light, that meant I could have more.  But then the nurses told me to only press it if I REALLY needed it and that I should try to tough it out if I could. So, then I felt like an asshole for waiting for that little light to turn green.  Again, I had thought I was so tough and was just going to be fine.  Hahahaha, I see now why I need 6 weeks off work.  Silly Sarah.  The nurses at St. Joe's are WONDERFUL.  Every time I'd feel like we were becoming BFF's, there would be a shift change and I'd be under the care of the next amazing nurse that became my babysitter.  My Mom went and got Keats and brought him up to see me.  He'd been told that Mommy has a "boo-boo" on her belly, so you have to be gentle.  He was.  He was more intrigued by everything in the room and when Dr. Wellman came in, he gave him a high-five and said "Docker?"  I'm certain he is the smartest child to ever be born ever.   In a very fitting coincidence, because of lack of space on the floor I was supposed to be on, I was taken up to the OB floor, and so I recovered from my hysterectomy and spent the night in the same room that Keaton was born in.  Talk about full circle. Talk about closure.  Talk about emotions.   
My sisters Melissa (birthday girl) and Erin came to see me that night.  Jim left a little after 7 to go home and hang with Keats so my Mama could head back home.  Did I mention that the hot flashes started almost immediately?  They did.  I had my room on the coldest setting with a fan blowing on me.  My visitors wore their jackets.  After Jim left, I got really nauseous and the thought of throwing up scared the shit out of me.  Cricket came to see me exactly during this time because she had texted like 5 minutes before when I was not ready to barf.  I started sweating profusely and the nurse gave me something for the nausea.  And then she asked if I was ok and I just started sobbing.  "I'm just sad." I cried.  These emotions are NO JOKE.  Jesus.  Thank you to my sisters who were there to make me feel ok.  After they left, the night was painful.  I did get sick later on and I am still cringing remembering the pain of puking and the fear that I was going to rip my incision open.  Ugh.  Sorry if that's too much.  I'm just trying to be real. 
Tuesday was better.  They took my catheter out, and I got to be unhooked from the machines and I got to go home around 6:30 that evening.  And I've been slow-movin, lazy-bookin, movie-watchin, no-pants-wearin Queen of this house ever since.  By "no pants" I mean no real pants.  Leggings and loose dresses are my new jam.  At this point, I cannot fathom the idea, that my stomach will ever let me put on real pants again. 
I am wearing a hormone replacement therapy patch constantly now that has so far, prevented me from anymore hot flashes.
I had my post-op appointment just this past Monday, and you know what I did?  I cried on the way there as Jim drove.  And then I pulled myself together.  And then the nurse took my blood pressure and I cried again and she asked me if I was ok and I cried "Yes.  I have no idea why I'm crying." And she sweetly told me how that was normal after this sort of procedure. And then I pulled myself together. And then  Dr. Wellman came in and started asking me how I was doing and I started crying again.  And I told him I was fine.  And I said "You know, I have no idea why I'm crying" as I cried harder.   He asked me if I had pooped yet and I cried harder as I told him "Finally!" and he asked me if I was sleeping and I cried as I told him "not really".  And He told me that my incision was healing perfectly and that I was doing everything I was supposed to be doing and asked me why I couldn't sleep.  I told him that I was in pain and that my incision hurt and that I'm a side-sleeper, but when I lay on my side it hurts and I worry that my incision is going to bust open because I shouldn't be laying on my side, so I roll over on my back and that's also uncomfortable.  And he said, "Ok. Ok, you're ok.  I'm going to give you some anti-anxiety medication to stop this worried mind of yours. What else is bothering you?"  And that's when I sobbed "It's just so final!  I made this decision and it's done and now I'm questioning everything and I can't undo this!"  Oh.  I didn't know that I was going to cry this to my gynecologist.  But I did.  This is how bonkers my emotions are right now.  And if you don't know Dr. Wellman, then I wish you did because I love him.  He sat down and he told me I was normal.  He told me that I was feeling vulnerable and when you feel vulnerable, your mind starts to try and trick you.  And he basically gave me a really fuckin great pep talk.  And he made me feel like I hadn't given up when I decided that it was time to do this.  He reminded me of all that Jim and I had been through. He told me that I could start driving the next day and walking for 10 minutes.  And I left with lifted spirits.  Seriously.  He's the bomb.com. 
So, the next day, Tuesday, I got up, I showered, I put a bit of makeup on for the first time in 8 days and I drove myself over to the church and voted.  And then I came home and took a 10 minute walk.  And I felt like "this is it!  I am getting better! I am on the mend!"  And then yesterday I woke up and I was exhausted.  I felt like coming down the stairs just to get on the couch was going to be too much work.  And I felt like I had taken 2 steps back.  I laid around ALL day.  I did manage a walk with the boys when they got home.  But, then it's just back to the couch for me.  While Jim makes supper and cleans up.  While Keats says to me "Mommy I wanna carry you" while holding his arms out for me which means that he wants me to carry him.  And I wither a little bit because I can't.  My son wants me to hold him and I want to more than anything and I can't.  And he doesn't understand.  He knows I have a boo-boo, but of course he doesn't understand the severity of this boo-boo.  I am missing out on bath time which is our time together.  I missing out on rocking him to sleep because my belly is still too tender to even let him sit on my lap.  I've tried to get down on the floor and play with him and it hurts.  And then my mind goes to: what if he thinks this is who I am now?  What if when I'm fully recovered, he won't ask me anymore because he just doesn't think I can do it?  What if he thinks that I just don't want to, so he gives up on asking me?  What if I should've waited until the last possible second to do this so that he would've been a few months older and maybe would've understood more? 
This is me.  This is my hysterectomy.  This is my mind and my recovery.  And I know it will get better.  But this isn't easy.  I thought I was tough, this makes me feel weak.  I will, we will, get through this like we've gotten through every other obstacle in our way these past 5 years, but it's going to take some time.  If you see me crying, don't sweat it because there's probably no reason for it. 
Right now I am focused on the future.  All the samples from my removed parts came back clear and cancer free.  I am free of a heavy burden.  I fantasize about feeling better and being outside this summer and getting back to running and Pilates and activity!  I think about how lucky I am.  I can Finally move on.  Yes, more worries will come.  That is life.  But NOT this worry.  This worry is done.