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| Maylen, 2weeks old and yesterday- same towel...much bigger girl! |
Miss May has now blossomed into a three year old blur of noise and blonde curls. Brilliant. Inquisitive. Sassy. All the things that a three year old girl probably should be. Most importantly, she's "Mommy's best friend," until Mommy says no, at which point she's quick to point out that she is NOT my best friend anymore!
Three weeks ago, I had knee surgery - I wanted to journal my healing process because I just felt like something big was going to happen in my way of thinking. I am halfway through my time off work for this to heal and I was right. I'm humbled by a number of things. First and foremost, I'm humbled by how helpless I had to become in order for this to heal. I'm not good at letting others do the work for me - I knew this was going to be hard but I had myself convinced that I would have the surgery and be back on my feet after a few days rest and everything would be fine. That is not how this went.
My husband turned into Super-Dad. He kept every Daddy duty he had and took on every Mommy duty too. Nana and Pop-Pop's house became a luxury resort hotel for Maylen the first four days of my recovery. I couldn't have done it without them. While my husband still forges onward as my hero, I am thankfully able to do a lot more around the house - able to feel useful again...I'm thankful for that.
I did journal throughout the recovery so far, but wasn't able to post them due to Blogger technical difficulties -- that being said, I apologize for the lengthy catch-up post!
1/13/2014
A temporary inconvenience for a permanent improvement.
I have survived by first four days of post-op recovery after my open synovectomy to remove a bone tumor caused by PVNS in my right knee. The first night was the worst with post-anesthesia nausea...the words of wisdom from my Dad when he called between my bouts of dry-heaving were that it's "a temporary inconvenience for a permanent solution." I suddenly felt like I had no place to complain even once about any of the recovery process. Dad survived open heart surgery that required them to go back in multiple times to stop bleeding, having arteries cleared in his neck and legs, a cardiac ablation, a pacemaker...he survived one month in the hospital when we weren't sure what the next day was going to bring...he saw them all as temporary inconveniences for permanent solutions that would give him more time with his family, with his grandchildren and great grandchildren, with the people he loves.
This is nothing. This is a cut open knee. I could've slipped on the ice and did this myself if I hit the ground just right. And while I still appreciate the length of the road ahead, I'm also going to try my hardest not to complain. This is a temporary inconvenience that might give me stronger knees to run with my daughter across the yard, to get down on the floor to build puzzles and let her do my hair, to shop longer with the women in the family, to stand longer while making Christmas Cookies, to complain less about the pain I feel each day. While it's becoming very apparent this will not be as easy as I thought, it's also not going to be nearly as hard as it could be.
1/16/2014
Obstacles for Improvement
One week into my recovery, I'm thoroughly humbled. I've always been one to get sick or injured, suck it up for a few days and then be fine. This is definitely not like that. The incision is healing nicely. Still sore and bothersome, but healing - no infection, no bleeding, and this point all the steri-strips have fallen off. My knee is bruised and so is my shin - Lord only knows how brutal the surgery part actually was and I'm fine with not really knowing. I can't bend my knee very far and I'm still hobbling to walk...the good part of that is I'm pretty sure I could a walk-on role as a zombie in the Walking Dead without even trying...
Over this past week, I've had to stop many times to rethink my logistics. It's no longer easy to do the basics: get out of a chair, walk across a room, navigate stairs, sit down on the toilet, get in the shower...it all requires a pause to think about how this is going to get done in the least painful way and the way that will not add to the injury. What I've realized through doing this physical is that it's something that maybe we should all do in other ways too - mentally, emotionally, and even vocally. Just take that few seconds to ask yourself how you can do this in order to produce the best outcome. The check your words before you say them, check you thoughts before you let them betray you, check your emotions to make sure they're the most appropriate and the least likely to add injury where it doesn't necessarily need to be.
I saw a Facebook status this week that said "Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition." Every physical obstacle I'm coming across probably works in some way to improve my knee - the different navigations I've had to use are cumbersome and may take a little longer, but it also allows for my knee to continue to heal without much setback. Those few extra seconds makea difference to my recovery. I wonder what a few extra seconds could add to other areas of our lives?
1/22/2014
Beautiful Words.
I had my follow up appointment with Dr. Bowen today who confirmed what we initially thought: a benign condition known as PVNS is what caused this issue with my knee.
Benign.
Praise the Lord. One of the most beautiful words in the English language. Benign.
1/24/2014
51 Degrees
I have started physical therapy, which basically consisted of the initial measurement of things - I can bend my knee about 51 degrees, but all the other joints around it seem to be working alright. My muscles are mushy from non-use, the swelling has yet to go down around my knee and the incision has yet to fully heal at the bottom end where it pulls each time I bend my knee. The road I was so sure would be a short trip is going to be a longer journey with a lot of hard work, dedication.
I'm reminded of another meme I came across somewhere: "We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same."
After doing my "homework" and realizing this is going to kick my butt a little, I'm even more determined to beat this thing and get back to health...the road stretches out in the distance, but it's shorter than it was two weeks ago.
1/29/2014
Brave
I'm bending my knee at 90 degrees. After only five days of PT and my "homework," I'm at a right angle. I'm walking more than hobbling (there goes my dream job on the cast of Walking Dead) and today in therapy, I rode a stationery bike. Honestly, when the therapist suggested it I thought she was nuts - surely I can't be ready to swing this knee full circle...she said go as far as you can one way, then back it up and go as far as you can the other way. Ten minutes. Go.
First three minutes I went as far as I could one way, then back the other way. The scar tissue pulled with a sharp jab but I pushed past it, stretching a bit more each time. I thought it was rather like getting a tattoo in a strange kind of way - the pain was almost the same type of feeling. One one particular pull back, I told myself just do it. Just once. Go all the way around. So, I did it. Swung around once, twice, three times - I was doing it. Really, really doing it.
Reverse - cycle it through the other way. Determined, I stared down at my purple chucks and swung in the opposite direction - once, twice, three times. No reason to stop now except that the pain was edging up a bit more around that scar tissue at the end of the incision. Maybe I should just go back to the other way I was doing it.
Then it happened - Brave by Sara Bereilles came on the radio. This was the song the staff at Geisinger danced to for the Pink Glove Dance to celebrate cancer survivorship. This song has become one of my personal favorites, especially since Maylen calls it "Mommy's song" and loves to listen to it on repeat for at least five or six replays. All of a sudden, I thought to myself - what am I saying? Go back to the way you were doing it? There's no going back. The road moves forward. And this? This is a knee. If I was thinking about going backwards I had to squint to see a bit further into the past than a minute ago - I carried a cancerous cyst alongside a child - a child who was born healthy in spite of it, a child that my body nurtured, created...and then that cyst was removed and the cancer with it and since then it hasn't returned and that child still grows, still amazes me. Quit looking that way...cuz we're not going backwards. This is just a knee. Yet again, I was reminded - this is nothing.
I wanna see you be brave.
Six minutes, full circle on the bike. The timer went off and my heart poured open with a feeling of pride and perseverance I haven't felt in a long time.
The road shortens again.
