Healing Well

"You really, truly only get one chance to heal well from this surgery," said my doctor.

"Yeah, I don't like that," I replied. (I was grumpy because of the argument I had just gotten into with a nurse about whether or not I had to pee, so that was not helping matters. WHO ARGUES ABOUT THAT, ANYWAY? It's going to stick with me that someone somewhere tells medical professionals that "no you don't" is ever a valid response to a patient telling you they have to pee.)

"Um. Well. I don't think your body actually cares how much you like it or not, and I know for sure that in the interest of your healing, I don't either. Your body is just trying to heal and if you don't give it time to do that, then you're going to pay for it for the rest of your life. Mark my words. I've watched it happen. There is no wiggle room here."

The man gets me. He knew exactly what I needed to hear, gave it to me unvarnished, and didn't allow for loopholes anywhere in any of our conversations, yet it also doesn't feel like I'm trapped. He made it clear that I have choices in my healing, but that I have to choose wisely.

My first surgery of two went off without a hitch on Monday - so much so, that I've overdone it a little bit over the past few days because I'm feeling so good. I got up and walked around several times that first day. I was home by 4pm the day of the surgery, and I got up and walked for five minutes several times, which was encouraged. I continued to feel great the next day, and continued walking. I walked the whole loop around my house (the shortest of several), and then came back and proceeded to sleep for six hours. That was my signal that my body isn't ready to do that yet, even if it's only a half mile, and so I have to keep being careful. I tried driving yesterday because my pain was low and I've been sans narcotics. It did not go as I had hoped so I'm going to give it another couple of days. But, this was a good turning point for me, because if there is one thing that has become alarmingly clear over the past few days, it's that I have to listen to my body.

Do I want to get back to work? Yes. Do I want to get back to doing yoga? Yes. Do I want to be active? Absolutely, yes. But what has to happen is that I have to listen to my body when it says that I'm not ready for any of those things yet. The thing is, rest like this is not in my DNA. It just isn't. I want to be back up and running as much as possible and as soon as possible. Yesterday would be ideal.

But, the other part of me, the more rational part of me, is continuing to repeat that I have been given this gift and if I don't give myself the opportunity to heal well, I'm 100% wasting it. I no longer have to worry about getting reproductive cancers. If I get colorectal cancer of any kind, it will be caught so fast because I have to get yearly colonoscopies. Soon, I will never have another thyroid cancer scare, ever. Two is enough, thank you. There's this weight that has been unbelievably lifting, and I have to just remember that as I move forward and let it drive my motivation to nap, or to rest, or to work on that puzzle instead of reconciling my billing or working on my schedule when I come back.

It also occurs to me that I haven't talked a whole lot about Lynch Syndrome and how I found out that I have it. A family member suffered a pregnancy loss, I'm assuming there were other factors at play as well, along with the fact that another family member in this same immediate genetic line had reproductive cancer. I have no family history of colon cancer, which is how Lynch is usually caught. With this family member that lost a pregnancy, their doctor did some genetic testing, and that's how Lynch was found. Then my family member that had cancer got tested (it was positive), my mom got tested (it was positive), and my sister and I got tested (I was positive). I think about this a lot, and instead of trying to sit there and be like, "This sucks, I can't believe I have to have all of these procedures, blah blah blah woof woof", I think about how the first family member to find that they had Lynch, through this really tragic loss, likely saved my life in the longer term. I'm also trying hard to let this drive my motivation to recover well. I don't know what it's like to want kids, but I would imagine that when someone gets that desire, losses of this kind are especially tragic. Do I have a responsibility to myself to heal well? Yes. Do I have a responsibility to also not take this chance for granted, not just for myself, but for others who paved the way for me to have this chance? Absolutely, yes.

This is the hardest time I've ever had prioritizing my self-care. Ever. I can usually fit it in in little ways, and it's been easy. This time, I'm incapacitated and there is nothing, literally nothing, that I can do to fight against it. There is no arguing my body into a quicker recovery from having four organs removed. So, today I made the call - I had some clients scheduled toward the end of the week next week, and I cancelled them. Even though I don't want to, I'm taking two full weeks off of work. It's happening. Will I be tearing my hair out from boredom by the end of that time? YES. I already am. But, I also know that it's for the greater good of my long-term health, and I just have to keep reminding myself both that this is only temporary and this time is worth taking. My long-term health is worth taking this time, even if I'm going to be grumpy about it. I've also realized that the grumpy isn't grumpy; it's the reality finally hitting - I am, in fact, not superhuman.