Healing nicely

I had my six-week post-op appointment with Dr. Bedia Monday morning.

I walked in with a list of questions that I had wrote down at 6 a.m. that morning. When he saw my list, he said, "Fire away."

Question #1: "How often do I need to have come back?" After a pause, I added, "Not that I don't like to see you."

He told me that I made him laugh, which is good because he makes me laugh as well.

And then told me that I'd need to come back in six months, when I'd be feeling 100 percent again.

He said I was "healing nicely," but I'd still not feel 100 percent for at least one to two months.

When I told him that I still get tired after doing things, he said that was normal.

He said the fact that my incision scar feels weird is normal.

When I asked if the external fibroid had shown up on any previous MRIs or ultrasounds, he said he didn't know for sure. But it "impressed" him.

He asked if I was still having leg pain. I said I had some after I started driving again, but it had gone away. He assured me that the external fibroid was putting a lot of pressure on my nerves, so it's no wonder I had leg pain.

So the good news is I'm "healing nicely." But it also means that there's still healing to be done. And that can be discouraging at times.

Road trip to Ames
Last Wednesday I made my first official road trip outside of the Des Moines metro area. I drove to Ames and back. Something I will do four times a week starting Aug. 24 when fall semester classes start.

While I was in Ames, I met with a student. I had lunch with a friend. I talked to other friends in Hamilton Hall. It was a fun day -- but when I came home, I was exhausted.

One of my friends asked me if I was excited for classes to start again or sad the summer was over. I told him I was looking forward to a new semester, but a little scared about my stamina the first couple weeks of classes.

If I was exhausted last week just driving to/from Ames without teaching a class, how will I do when I also have to teach classes?

The road to Wrigley
Last weekend my parents and I went to Chicago to watch the Iowa Cubs play Sunday at Wrigley Field. My mom and I took turns driving into the Windy City Friday.

Saturday she and I went to Woodfield Mall to do some shopping. There were people everywhere. After going in about four stores, I hit the wall. Time to go back and rest.

So much to do in the Chicagoland area. So much I would like to do. But I knew I needed to hang at the Residence Inn instead and rest up for Sunday's festivities or I'd be exhausted.

Sunday was a blast. My cousin Sue's 12-year-old son Bryce went with us to the game at Wrigley. It was his first baseball game ever, as he lived in England until 2007. Bryce loved every minute of it. And so did I.

We went down to get autographs, not knowing that the player signing was actually an injured Chicago Cubs player. Reed Johnson signed Bryce's hat, fan and ticket stub. And then posed for a picture with us.

Bryce got his picture taken with Cubbie Bear, the Iowa Cubs' mascot.

When we entered Wrigley Field, we were told kids 14 and under could run the bases after the game if they had a wrist band. I told Bryce he needed to do this. So he got a red wristband.

After the game was over, we were told that kids and their parents with red wristbands needed to report to the right-field foul pole. He and I walked toward right field, and then went downstairs to the field level.

As we were walking, we were told that the kids and their parents needed to stay on the warning track while walking on the field. Suddenly a light bulb went off. I, too, got to walk on Wrigley Field.

I turned to Bryce and said, "If anyone asks, call me mom." He asked why. I told him that he was supposed to be with one of his parents, so for the time being, I was adopting him. And without missing a beat he said, "OK, Mom."

We walked on the warning track from right field. I kept looking up at the scoreboard. It was an awesome view.

Bryce started his trek around the bases at first. He crossed second, rounded third and headed into home.

I'm not sure which one of us was more excited about the experience. But it's one that neither one of us will forget. And it's one that helped heal my spirit tremendously.

We dropped Bryce off on our way out of town and headed back to Iowa. Due to road construction we had a couple of detours, including one that took us across the Mississippi River at Clinton, Iowa.

It was pouring down rain. The winds were strong. And the weather radar looked terrible.

So we spent the night at the Country Inn in Clinton, knowing that we'd have to get up early to keep my Monday 11 a.m. date with Dr. Bedia.

But it was well worth the early morning wake-up.

The trip to Wrigley lifted my spirits. And Dr. Bedia confirmed that I'm right on schedule. I'm "healing nicely."

And throughout my recovery, I've learned that healing is not only a physical process, but also emotional and spiritual.

One step at a time

The other night when I was at Principal Park, by instinct I took the stairs up to the press box instead of taking the elevator. As someone who is always looking for exercise, it's become habit to me to climb stairs.

After winding up several flights of the stairs, I remembered something. I was still recovering from an abdominal hysterectomy.

Because I felt so good and didn't feel any pain in my incision, for several minutes I totally forgot about my surgery.

However, my pace going up the stairs slowed down considerably the closer I got to the press box. I realized that I hadn't walked up this many steps since I left Rosenblatt Stadium -- two days before my surgery.

And suddenly, as I kept walking up the stairs slower and slower, I felt as if I had hit the wall.

If the guy walking ahead of me hadn't been holding the door for me at the top of the stairs, I probably would have stopped for a rest or two.

Walking up the Principal Park stairs is a microcosm for my recovery right now. I’m doing well and continue to feel the healing process. I’m very thankful I had the surgery.

Because the pain has subsided considerably and I feel so good, sometimes I forget that I’ve had surgery and tend to overdo it.

But then I am reminded that I overdid it the next day when I’m extremely tired. So I’m learning to slow things down and appreciate the small baby steps in this recovery journey.

In June my friend Cindy introduced me to The Great Banquet concept during this year's College World Series. When I expressed interest, she invited me to go to the four-day retreat at her Indianapolis church.

I signed up, even though I knew it would be five weeks after my surgery. After all, how could God not want me to go to a retreat to learn more about Him? I have been looking forward to going to Indianapolis for weeks.

However, reality sunk in quickly last Saturday. I had just been driving for little more than a week. The furthest I had driven was round trip from my parents' home in Waukee to downtown Des Moines (approximately 25 miles.)

And I thought I could drive 500 miles to Indianapolis alone? Even though I was planning to break the drive up into two days, I knew I wasn't ready.

And sitting for long periods of time even wears me down. So I knew I would be exhausted if I tried to sit through a four-day retreat.

I knew in my heart cancelling my trip to Indianapolis was what I needed to do, but not necessarily what I wanted to do. But the lesson I needed to learn at this time didn't involve any long-distance travel -- other than up several flights of stairs at Principal Park.

Dana, my dental hygienist and friend, told me when she saw me Monday that I didn't look as if I had had surgery. I told her that was probably the hardest part for me right now.

I don't look like I'm recovering from major surgery. And a lot of times I don't feel like I'm recovering from major surgery. But truth of the matter is, I AM still recovering from major surgery.

I don't feel 100 percent yet. But I'll get there ... just one step at a time.

SIDE NOTE:
As I mentioned, I had my six-month dental check-up Monday. The male dentist I normally see was out sick, so I saw another dentist in the practice, who is female. I shared with her my experience with the male eye doctor jerking my chair around, even after I told him about my surgery.

I asked that she take it easy on me with the chair movement. She could relate in more ways than one. She said she had a hysterectomy 10 years ago. And she agreed. Men just don't fully understand the pain.

On the road again ...

Last night I drove for the first time since my surgery. My Saturn VUE, which had been parked in my garage since June 25, was back on the road again. And all went well! It felt good to be back driving. No surprise to anyone who knows me, my first stop was at Starbucks.

I finally felt as if I turned the corner Sunday/Monday. I wasn't feeling tired all the time any more. I had energy to do things that had seemed too taxing before -- like reading and typing. Things that required me to sit up for long periods of time. And I felt my reaction time was good enough to be out on the road again.

Nothing is worse than waking up from a good night's sleep and feeling exhausted before you get out of bed. And each day I never knew if I'd feel like that or not. I had a similar feeling when I had pneumonia in 1998. I knew it would pass with time. Just wasn't sure when.

I had an eye appointment at 11 a.m. yesterday, but I opted not to try my first post-surgery drive with dialated eyes. Thanks to my mom for dropping me off and Jean Gross from Point of Grace for picking me up on our way to our birthday lunch.

While the doctor was examining my eyes, he quickly adjusted my chair so it reclined -- and in the process really aggrevated my incision area. OUCH! After he did it, I mentioned to the doctor that I had recently had surgery and was still moving slowly. He thanked me for telling him. But he still adjusted the chair back to its original position just as quick as the first time. OUCH again!

I learned my lesson. Next week when I go to the dentist's office, I'm going to ask that they adjust my chair in slow motion. Or maybe I'll bring my pillow and put it over my stomach to cushion the blow. And get my point across visually.

The best way I can describe the incision "pain" is to think of what it would feel like if you had a piece of duct tape stuck across your lower region. So every time you move, it pulls on your skin. The more the incision heals, the more pain I feel down there. But I can tell my muscles are getting stronger as I do heal.

And all the other surgery "issues" I had have taken care of themselves. I've weened myself off of stool softeners without taking all 100 pills!

Shirl and the three dependents

When I was discharged from the hospital, Dr. Bedia told me, "No driving for two weeks." Monday, July 13 was my two-week anniversary from leaving Iowa Methodist after my surgery. But entering week 3 of recovery, I'm still content being one of Shirl's three dependents for a little longer.

The three dependents (my dad, myself and the dog) all rely upon my mom (aka Shirl) to take us places right now. She's been a saint through it all! Taking care of all three of us while trying to get things moved from the old house. And get things organized in the new townhome.

Why am I content being a dependent for a little longer? I think my reaction time is way too slow for me to be behind the wheel of a car.

I still feel the world is going at 100 mph, and I'm still functioning at 50 mph -- both mentally, physically and emotionally.

So no driving for me yet. Which also means I'm still staying at my parents' home for another week, at least.

HysterSisters says, "If you are in week 3 or 4, you may find that one day you feel great with a lot of energy, and the next day your feel lousy and want to stay in bed ... During weeks 3-4, it may seem like you're taking two steps forward and one step back, but this is still progress!"

This is exactly where I'm at. Saturday I felt great. Sunday I felt bad during church and had to leave early. I was back in bed most of the day and missed going to "Six-on-Six: The Musical," which was a total bummer!

Monday I rested most of the day so I could go watch a friend's softball game that night. Tuesday I celebrated my birthday with friends and family and did great.

Today I was so tired. I woke up feeling as if I got hit by a Mack truck. I spent most of the day in my room with the Partridges, which explains why I've now watched all 49 episodes of seasons 1 and 2.

The incision pain is manageable -- and bending over is getting much better. Thanks to the "football-shaped pills" even pooping is better. But the energy level just isn't there on a regular basis.

It's hard because my sister and her three kids are here this week. I want to do things with them. But I don't have the energy to do the things I normally do. And it's hard for me to plan ahead because I don't know if it'll be a good or bad day.

So for now, I'm content being one of Shirl's three dependents. And knowing that according to HysterSisters, it's OK that I feel as if I'm taking two steps forward and one step back.

Almost sounds as if it could be a Partridge Family song.

Pooping is painful!

Disclaimer: This blog entry will often contain references to passing gas and pooping (aka. No. 2, a bowel movement, BM.)

When I read my first couple of blog entries to my dad, he said he was appalled that I would write about such things where "the whole world could read about them."

While I appreciate the fact that my dad thinks the whole world would even want to read my blog, I can't help but write about these facts of life.

When people told me about the after-effects of an abdominal hysterectomy, no one mentioned that these things would have a major role in how I feel each day.

If these things offend you like they offend my dad, stop reading here ... for this is the major thing I'm dealing with.

The big lesson I learned during week two is pooping is painful.

My prescription pain meds cause constipation. And constipation is the biggest cause of my pain right now.

Monday afternoon I called my doctor's office about my side pain that was quite wicked. The nurse called back and said she'd call in a new pain prescription for me.

I also read on HysterSisters.com that I needed to keep taking stool softeners throughout my recovery. When I bought a bottle of 100 pills, I thought that was way too many. But at three a day (max dosage), I may run out.

Not to mention I started sharing three of the "football-shaped pills" with my dad each night. Yes, he has the same problem for a totally different reason -- but no, he won't talk about it. He will only refer to the stool softeners as the "football-shaped pills."

I felt great Tuesday! My friend Karla and I went to lunch at Jason's Deli and then walked around both levels of Valley West Mall. We called it my training for the 2011 Des Moines Marathon. I've taken myself out of this year's event, but the thought of walking 26.2 miles without constant pain in my right leg really sounds good to me.

After Karla and I finished our post-walk beverages at Starbucks, I came home and rested until my friends Pam and Pam from the Y visited me. It was great to get caught up with them, as I hadn't seen them since before my car accident in May.

I spent Wednesday morning/afternoon hanging out at home with Shirley, Keith, Laurie, Danny, Chris, Tracey and Reuben. The Partridge Family. I finished watching season 1, which is 22 episodes of a 20-minute show.

I didn't feel as bad as Monday, but didn't feel as good as Tuesday either because I felt I needed to ... you know ... poop. So I had some pain.

My friend Karen picked me up Wednesday night and we met our friend Marie for dinner at Panera Bread. Afterwards we walked around both levels of Jordan Creek Town Center and finished up with ice cream at Cold Stone. The oatmeal cookie batter ice cream with chocolate chips and pecans is wonderful!

After I got home, I spent some time in the bathroom ... doing you know what ... and felt so much better. So much so that I slept until 11 a.m. this morning.

So while pooping is painful, walking and three stool softeners per day seem to be the key to making things a little more manageable right now.

Geri told me there would be days like this ...

My friend Geri called me while I was in the hospital to see how I was feeling after surgery. When I told her I was doing great, she reminded me that I'd have good days and I'd have bad days. It was part of the healing process.

She knew this first hand because her husband John had major brain surgery earlier this year. John's doctor had told them the same thing Geri told me.

The past two days reminded me that Geri was right. There would be days like this.

Yesterday I spent the majority of the day on the sofa, including watching the Cubs get drilled 8-2 by the Brewers. As if that wasn't painful enough, I had no energy and strong pain on my right side.

I planned to run errunds with my mom and dad this afternoon -- but after going to Starbucks and the post office, I came home. Allie, our family's 16-year-old dog, and I had a good restful afternoon. The Partridge Family DVD marathon resumed this afternoon.

The right-side pain was even more intense today. And I had no more prescription pain pills. I think it was a message that I needed to slow things down considerably. Healing is taking place on God's time schedule, not mine. It's a lesson I continually have to learn -- as I'm not patient!

While I was resting, my friend (and guest blogger) Karla called to check on me. We had a good talk. She reminded me that my doctor had moved around some organs on my right side while trying to remove the external fibroid. So there's a good reason that I may have more pain on my right side.

And then Geri called while she and John were driving from Sioux City to Harlan. I immediately told her she was right. I would have my good days. And I would have my bad days. And it's all part of the healing process.

The Movement

Today was monumental for me -- as I finally had a post-surgery "movement." Won't go into details, but suffice to say it wasn't easy. After four days worth of maximum dosage of colace, one dose of Mirolax and an enema, the movement happened.

Hard to believe my surgery was a week ago tomorrow. I continue to be humbled by all the acts of kindness by my friends and family. It is such a great help to my recovery to know I have so much support.

I'm feeling good for the most part. I get tired very quickly, but I'm told Percocet will do that to you. The pain is definitely manageable. I’m limited in my activities, but I can tell what I can and can’t do based on whether or not my incision hurts when I do it. I've been walking with my mom every night and went grocery shopping with her yesterday.

The parents' new townhome in Waukee has been a great place for recovery. It is so peaceful here. It's also fun to help them get settled in.

Even though they live right off of Hickman Road (U.S. highway 6) in Waukee, the family that lives behind them hasn't given into urban development. They have chickens, ducks and turkeys running all over their property -- so we get all the sounds of living on a farm, in addition to all the traffic sounds of Hickman Road. Reminds me of Green Acres ...

Speaking of vintage TV, the Partridge Family DVD marathon started yesterday. Thanks to Marie Callas for sharing her DVD collection with me.

So far I've watched episodes 1-9. Watched an episode yesterday where Farrah Fawcett plays a "pretty girl." Can't wait to see the episode with Bobby Sherman.