It’s been five weeks since surgery. I’ve been trying to write something clever or interesting and obviously, it hasn’t happened. I don’t want to say things are going poorly, because they’re basically fine, but I’m bored and ornery and fighting off those moods is as difficult as it is necessary. I mean, my recliner is great, but I’m tired of being confined to it 20+ hours a day. My cat is cute, but she’s still just a cat. My meds have been reduced again which means less brain fuzz, but much more pain, including my lower back freaking out from being in a chair 20+ hours a day. Also, narcotics have zero benefit when it comes to fibromyalgia, so those symptoms are in full force and much worse than the surgical healing. My mental illnesses were kind of at bay for a few weeks (because, shit tons of pills) but they’re back, too. I’m so exhausted that even phone calls are almost impossible, yet I’m lucky to sleep more than 4 hours a day. That’s a LOT of time to be stuck in one’s own head… I miss my bed and my kitchen and my car and real clothes and independence. And though my new stainless steel straws are pretty kickass, I wish I didn’t need them for EVERYTHING. So yeah, I could keep going but I’m sure you get the idea… I’m cranky and whiny, but technically I know why I’m feeling that way, so I’m mostly fine.
I hoped to be spending my time writing notes to people, knitting, watching sitcoms, and slowly getting back to real life, but between the collar, the fatigue, and the drugs, none of those things are happening. I still can’t read and audiobooks aren’t working for me, and though I’ve tried short walks and a couple of car rides, I can’t handle those things yet either. I know, I know… be patient, right? I am. I have been and will continue to be, but patient doesn’t equal easy or fun. This is normal and it sucks.
To be clear, this isn’t something a pep talk or recreational suggestion will fix. I try every single day to find a thing to entertain or occupy my mind with very limited success. My mind is willing, but my body’s not yet in a place to cooperate, so I end up flip-flopping between my inclination to find a bright spot in ALL THE GOOD THINGS THAT MUST BE AROUND ME and the frustration of my endless limitations. Though I know I’m loved and supported, this is lonely, which is also normal. My long-held opinion that “normal” is overrated has been solidly reinforced, so that’s something, right?
I almost didn’t share this because it feels SO negative and I know I have thousands of positive things in my world, but this is the reality of chronic illness, surgical recovery, and life in general, sometimes. Every time I refuse to sugarcoat my struggles, someone tells me that they feel less lonely, and more than ever, I know how important that moment of “ME TOO” can be.
I feel your love and am sending it back to all. Time for a pretend nap. More soon. xoxo