This is a tough entry to write. I was at wound care which means I got to sit up in my wheelchair and leave not only the living room where I spend every minute of the day but leave the house as well. In a matter of a few words, getting up and out was utter joy. Bliss in many ways. It was also sensory over load--trees, fresh air, my dog, a car ride, moving independently, etc. This is all great--and the news from wound care was equally wonderful. Both wounds look awesome or as the nurse put it dryly "I am responding well to the therapy". The doctor classified me as a poster child for patient compliance. I have nothing to complain about--I really am healing and truly believe I am going to heal. By heal I mean I believe I will get better and return to normal. While I knew this in theory I now believe in fact. I can foresee the day when I will return to normal. I hope this return to normalcy takes place this year--as in before Xmas. This has been my stated goal and for the first time the surgeon who debrided the wounds agrees.
If I am filled with nothing but good news why is this entry so hard to write. Simple: I cannot stop from crying. By the time I got home I was exhausted. I was just physically spent. Months in bed is taking a toll. I am weak, shockingly out of shape. I get a bit dizzy when sitting, cannot push up a slight incline of a few hundred feet. Worse yet I had to go back to bed knowing it will be another two weeks before I get back up. I am tired, I am sick of looking at my ceiling, and I want out. I wan my life back. I know this is not going to happen this month, November and possibly even December. Even then it will take me time to regain all the strength I have lost. Of course I lift light weights and do as much as I can in bed but it is not nearly enough. I am overwhelmed by my loss of freedom, independence and any semblance of my previous independent life. It seems like a life time since I last kayaked or went for a walk with my dog. I am just devastated--so powerfully sad to be in bed and back to a very dull routine. even writing this I feel terrible. Many of my paralyzed peers would be far worse off--in a nursing home. I escaped this fate but remain in tears. Gosh, this has been a long haul and I have months to go yet. I will make it but I had no clue as to how hard this would be emotionally and how I would waste away physically. Ah, denial it is a very effective coping mechanism.
I hope I can get out of this deep emotional morass soon. I cannot give in to depression and feeling sorry for myself. This is destructive at multiple levels. I should have known today would be an emotional roller coaster. I knew getting up would be a dream like but did not anticipate the backlash. And the backlash is fierce. Perhaps in all this I am learning something. Women have told me a good cry makes them feel better--a notion I never could grasp. Today, I think I may get this. I may not feel better yet but at least writing these words have helped.