The Miracle of Healing

First, I want to say that I have become this annoyingly and deliriously happy person over the past four weeks. It's weird how much my brain has cleared out all of the difficult stuff that I was wrestling with. It's literally just gone and I don't know what happened. Maybe it was being able to let go of anxiety around getting pregnant, maybe it was hormonal changes, who knows. I've tried to examine it a little, but I'm not entirely sure that I want to. I've been able to get out of my own way more than I ever have in the past, and it's making me much more effective as a human being.

That being said, I was sitting here drinking my morning coffee and I thought to myself what a gift it has been to bear witness, really bear witness, to how much I've healed over the past four weeks. My body has gone through some monumental changes and I know more are coming, but to watch the pain subside, to watch my body change shape as it heals, to watch in real time how my body is finding a sense of balance, finally, has been kind of unbelievable. My whole relationship with my body has changed over the past four weeks, and I did not expect that to happen. (I also came to the stark realization today that menopause kind of suits me. One person joked that I've been an old woman drinking tea and wearing slippers and a housecoat since I was 19, and I can't say I disagree with that.) I know that I have two more weeks until my body has fully healed from the surgery itself, but I'm here for it. I remember when I broke my arm, I didn't want to see the healing process. I was in this big splint after surgery and then when the doctor cut it away to reveal a pretty grotesque looking incision, I couldn't look at it. I tried and almost fainted. I'm not sure if this healing is more internal and so I don't have to see the changes, but I know healing is happening. While I'm not where I want to be yet, if this is how things continue to shift for me, bring it on.

I'm at this weird place where I feel so good and I want to exercise, but I can't. I'm seriously thinking of calling the nurse at the OB-GYN place and asking if there's any exercise I could be doing. This is crazy, because I'm back to work full-time this week and I've currently got 35 clinical hours scheduled (and trying to cram in others when I can), but I want to find a way to fit it in. I just want to. I'm ready mentally, and it's been a little tough to wait for my body to be there physically, but I'm trying to summon what little patience I have in the first place to just ride it out. Once I hit the three-week mark and was halfway through the recovery period, I said to myself, "yes, I can definitely do this one more time." I can, it's just a different kind of hard. I don't do so good with the patience with myself part.

Phew.

Ok.

Here comes what I've been sitting on for the past few months.

Deep breaths.

I'm starting a private practice. I started it back in January with the piddliest little caseload that you've ever seen and it's been stuck in that spot because of the group practice I'm in. I've made the decision that I'm going into it full time as of June 1. I'm also taking on 3 interns, and will be both operating a private practice and a supervision/training hub. I am so excited about it that I could literally pee my pants.

It's exactly, and I mean exactly what I want to do with my time as a professional. This business I'm creating, this is what I want to do to help my clients and make the field continue to be better.

The tides started turning for me a few months ago. I was sitting and thinking about my clients and the idea of this private practice, and I said to myself, "wouldn't it be neat for my practice to be a training ground for interns and other professionals." I didn't dare put it out into the Universe, but that's what my gut was telling me that I actually wanted. I love teaching. I love training. I love supervising and watching growth happen before my very eyes. I also love being a counselor, so that would have to be part of it too. The seedlings that had planted themselves in my brain were starting to grow.

Then I had the surgery, and I had lots of time to sit and think about just that. One of my friends made a joke a few months ago about being my assistant, but it stuck with me. Like, really stuck. So, I talked to him. He's one of the most sarcastic, hilarious, earnest, and hungry for knowledge people I know, and he wants to do good. He's got the gene. (I'm also pretty sure that he's 1000 times more diligent and smart than I am, so I'm pretty super excited about that because he's given me a fresh perspective on a few things lately that have been super helpful.) We're cut from the same cloth, is what I'm saying. Then another colleague approached me and said that she wanted to get into private practice, so she came over and we talked about it. Then I was approached by two of my students who were having trouble at their practicum sites asking if I knew anyone who would be willing to take on interns because they were looking to change sites. All of this happened over the span of two weeks. It was literally one of the most bonkers ways of the stars aligning that has ever happened to me, ever.

So, now I scout for an office. I am super excited and terrified and holy shit this is real now because I gave my notice today and this really has to work now. The next few weeks are going to be stormy and hard, for sure. But, the thing is that I feel equipped fully to deal with it as it comes. I just need to ride it out and know that on the other side is something so exciting that I can barely contain myself even thinking about it.

Also, I'm starting to become this unbelievably, unabashedly happy person. The tides are turning in such amazing ways that I can barely contain my joy. Look out, world.

Professional Self-Care and Fake Running

You know what's my favorite as a professional counselor?

Game-changing trainings.

I had one this morning. It was only like four hours long, and I went into it with a little bit of a pre-emptive eye-roll-but-I'll-try-to-have-an-open-mind attitude. It was about treating teens with anxiety and depression.

Snort. Listen to that hubris that I just put out there.

But, I signed up for this training because I could always use a refresher and new techniques or just affirmation that I'm doing right by the kids that I work with. I've also heard rave reviews about the trainer. 

I got all of the above and then some. This woman was SINGING MY SONG, let me tell you. I left there feeling validated (which can be hard sometimes - therapy isn't meant to be comfortable, and so sometimes I have people yell at me and slam the door on their way out while giving me the finger and I just have to take it - I'm happy to, but it wears on you after a while!), more competent, and with HUGELY IMPORTANT tools in my toolbox that I either sharpened or put newly in there. Moreover, it set my hair back on fire about working with teens. I wasn't beginning to hate it, but I was starting to feel complacent about it. 

I started using some of the techniques I learned this very afternoon and like three of my clients started bawling.

I went through a training a few years ago and the trainer said something to me that will stick with me until the day I stop doing clinical work: "If they're not crying, you're not trying." Every once in a while it smacks me like a 2x4 how right he was.

But, the most important part of this training was what it wholeheartedly affirmed for me: Professional self-care is equally as important to me as personal self-care. I need to feel competent at my job, which is a tall order on the best of days. Trainings are a hugely important part of that. I'm decent at my job, sure, but in order to stay competent, I have to keep training, and keep growing and changing. If I don't keep my finger on the pulse of my growth, I'm not taking care of myself professionally, which is a big problem. It's been hard this year because of COVID because I haven't attended any in-person trainings for almost two years - they've all been online - and so it feels to me like I'm not doing enough (though my grid of CEs and what they're for and how they meet the requirements would disagree with that. I'm up for licensure renewal in December and I already have nearly double the CEs I need, if I'm not already there. I had 155 when I was up for my first renewal. What can I say? I love to learn.).

In order to take care of myself professionally, I have to tap into my desire to learn, which is incredibly deep. I feel so good and energized after today's training that I want to go sign up for more of this woman's trainings. She's amazing. What an unexpected gift today was (and I almost skipped it because I've been up since 2:30am with a coughing dog - I'm so glad that I didn't!).

Let's also talk about how positively things have changed for me since my surgery. I haven't said much about it, but I feel like a totally different person. To figure out why this is, I did some digging and it was likely one of two things: I was either SUPER sensitive to progesterone, or I was estrogen dominant. Or maybe both. Let's talk about what's specifically different:

1. I want to be active. Yes, you heard that right (and in fact, I'll be taking a walk after this blog post is finished). I am itching to get back to yoga, I'm going to start training for a 5k as soon as humanly possible, please, and we have that spin bike that I'm absolutely itching to get on. This has never happened before. I've always taken a kind of "blah" attitude to exercise, but let me tell you that I get out walking every day and I am LOVING IT. What I've started to do is what I affectionately call Fake Running. I start my Couch to 5k program, and I do a whole workout, except I don't run. I deliberately try to walk slow, and then when the "run" comes, I speed up my walking. I'm being careful and I'm doing what I'm supposed to do by holding off on serious exercise until after my 6-week follow-up, even though it's hard. 

2. I can breathe. I did not expect my asthma symptoms to remit after the surgery, but that's exactly what happened. I would go through periods where I would struggle to take a deep breath in because it felt like someone was standing on my chest. That has not happened in four weeks. I also can't help but think this is also tied to anxiety, which is also now basically gone. I have been more emotionally even than I have been in in my life, ever, over the past four weeks. Even after I have a little caffeine.

3. I am pretty sure my migraines are gone. As in, completely gone. If there would have been any time for me to have a migraine, it would have been one of three times over the past month: 1. Right after the surgery; 2. When I would have gotten my period; or 3. The antibiotics that I've been on. I had a slight headache one day that I didn't need to take anything for - just drink some fluids because the antibiotics were drying me out BIG TIME. I drank a liter of water and it was gone a half hour later and never returned.

4. I require less sleep. I wake up at certain points of the night, which is not in and of itself fantastic, but I don't struggle to wake up anymore. It takes me a bit longer to get to sleep, but that's ok. I go to bed later and get up earlier and I'm totally, totally ok with it. I also have the most bonkers dreams ever, every single night. I wake up literally every morning being like "uh, what the eff just happened?" Because my dreams are so vivid and realistic that I sometimes have a hard time discerning if that really happened or not until I'm fully awake and realize it was a dream. No, I am in fact not pregnant with twins or triplets, my doctor is not a serial killer, and I did not spend an entire night just rolling around in the grass. (At least I don't think I did.) I also talk in my sleep a lot more, which Rob finds hilarious.

Things are changing for the infinitely better. Will I have bad days here and there? Sure. I'm able to allow for and accept that wholeheartedly. But, if things keep going this way (and I think they will - BIG blog post coming in a few days about more stuff), my life is about to get infinitely better, and it wasn't even half bad to begin with. :) I am more excited and inspired than I have been in a super long time, and I am SO SO SO grateful.

Three Weeks. WOO.

I'm not sure what happened.

I went to Easter dinner with my in-laws on Sunday, ate barely any dinner because I had no appetite (except for the chips and salsa that I was eating because I re-found my appetite after losing it again - I definitely ate too many), took a nap after dinner, and then came home and felt VERY full for the rest of the night. I'm supposed to take one of my antibiotics with food, and I really had to shove it down. It was unpleasant.

But then something magic happened while I was sleeping on Sunday.

My head screwed itself back on straight on Monday morning. I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck, but after going through my morning routine, HOLY BALLS. You could peel me off the ceiling, basically. I saw five (!) clients in a row Monday after not being able to see more than two in a row without needing a nap last week, and I woke up today feeling more of the same. I had my follow-up with my doctor and the infection and the surgical stuff are all healing great, and I'm finally, finally turning a corner.

I'm just ready to get off of the antibiotics. The side effects are hard (but not as hard as they were when I had C. Diff, which is an unendingly pleasant surprise), and I've lost another ten pounds since starting them, and I know that's not a good thing. I'll gain it back and likely fairly quickly (or maybe not if I can keep eating well and being active!), but I just am ready to not have to take antibiotics anymore. I need to find my new sense of normal, and having to be smacked in my bladder by an infection at this juncture is making it harder.

I have to remember to continue to take it easy, but it's getting harder as I'm feeling better. I cleaned my kitchen this morning, I went on a Fake Couch to 5k Run yesterday (and by fake run, I mean that I walked slow during the walk parts and walked faster during the jog parts - I want to heal faster, but I'm no masochist and there's no changing the reality that I can't be super physically active for another three weeks, if not longer depending on what my doctor says), I was able to bring laundry downstairs in one trip instead of multiple, and I'm just feeling great. I'm at the stage where I'm ready to get fully back into everything, but I know intellectually that my desire far outpaces my capacity still. The reason that I know this is that I was trying to walk Ruby and it was...less than pleasant because she's an out of control puppy for whom Benadryl doesn't have the sedative property. How is that even possible? I am like five times her size and ONE knocks me out for 14 hours. No impact on her WHATSOEVER.

She's a mutant dog. I decided.

But, the healing continues.

I've also made more Big Life Decisions That Are Going to Result in Hard Conversations in the Very Near Future, but I'm so excited about what's coming that it's going to be easier for me than it would have been even a few weeks ago. Now that my brain has reconnected, I'm now able to figure out how to make things work. Once I've had the conversations that need to be had, I'll talk more about it. But for now, I continue to work and think and heal.

And be patient. Patience is the name of the game because if I'm not, I'm going to really severely hurt myself. I just have to keep reminding myself of that whenever I feel the urge to push farther than I can or should.

The Cure is Worse than the Disease

So, not surprisingly because it's super common, I have a post-surgery infection. It's a little bit in my bladder (also unsurprisingly because my bladder's default position is Low Key Mad, and then when you shove a catheter in there, even for a little while, and then it also has to move to take up space that wasn't there before, it's going to exact revenge) and other places, nothing major, and easily fixed with antibiotics. Two of them, in fact.

Right.

The good part is that I'm on day 2 and already starting to feel better. Let's just say that from the outset. I was feeling weird pains that I knew weren't normal (and also my doctor said they weren't normal) and those are gone, and it no longer takes multiple tries to pee, and I'm not as tired. All good things.

I spent a morning/early afternoon in the ER (not because it was super dire, but because my doctor told me to go there because my insurance was taking its sweet time approving a contrast CT scan and my symptoms started escalating in ways that were very, very uncomfortable) and I've also decided on a new career: ER eavesdropper. If I can make a career of that, that'd be awesome. Literally, I heard someone call their refrigerator a Grocery Hole and that is what I will refer to it as for the rest of my days. (Not a patient. It'd be markedly less funny and I wouldn't be joking about it at all if it was a patient.) Then, I left with one antibiotic, and then immediately got a call from my OB-GYN Oncologist dude that said "nope, don't take that one, take these two instead."

One of them is Flagyl. Awesome. Except not. It's already throwing me like it did last time.

You see, about seven years ago around this time, as a result of the antibiotics that I took after getting my wisdom teeth out, I got C. Diff. It was, to this day (inclusive of breaking my arm in three places and needing surgery, having a full hysterectomy, and two fine needle aspiration biopsies on my thyroid), the worst thing I've ever been through medically. Ever. It took a full year for me to recover from it, and it took even longer than that for my gut to recover.

Flagyl (and can we just say out loud that it sounds like some weird protozoa or amoeba or something?) was one of the antibiotics the doctor put me on back then. Right now it's not going so bad, but let me tell you: I remember. It takes a few days to get really bad. The weight loss, the digestive issues, the fatigue, the constantly terrible taste in my mouth, the brain fog, the joint pain (which was actually more likely caused by the other antibiotic I was on at that time), the inability to eat distilled foods and crying in the produce section of Hannaford, all of it. It's hard to take vinegar out of your diet. I dare you to try it. It will be much easier for me this time because I eat a lot better and I'm much healthier than I was back then. There's also the fact that the antibiotics are not treating a debilitating case of colitis this time, but still. I can't use things like hand sanitizer because if I slip up on ingesting anything distilled or alcohol based, I pay a pretty heavy price.

No joke, and not to put too fine a point on it, but I went to my follow-up with my PCP back during that time and she put me on another 7 days after an ER visit and I legit asked if I could just live with C. Diff, and burst into tears when she said no because it kills people if it goes untreated and it's super contagious. The side effects of the treatment were literally that bad.

I am also battling the fact that while my appetite is coming back little by little post-surgery, it's not fully back yet. So, I asked my doctor what to do about that because he was like "make sure you're eating enough and hydrate hydrate hydrate. And then when you think you've hydrated enough, hydrate some more," and then when I asked him how to figure out having to eat more when I literally can't, he was like "Shove it in if you have to." This man does not sugar coat anything, and if I could, I'd have him as my PCP. I was also talking to him after I got out of the ER and was like, "But, all things considered, I feel great!" and he was like "Um. You're a vivacious person, and I totally get that, but you just got out of the EMERGENCY ROOM, Ryan. It's ok if you're not doing so hot. Give yourself permission to not be doing so hot."

Great advice, I must say. But, I'm currently at the First Circle of Flagyl Hell: This Isn't Super Pleasant But Not Terrible Either. I'm also teetering on the Second Circle of Flagyl Hell: I'm Very Tired and My Gut is Very Very Angry and No I would Not Like to Eat That Very Pleasant Thing but Thanks Anyway. It's coming. I can feel it.

In the next day or two, I'll experience Circle Three: Fluids. Just, All of the Fluids, and Also I lost Ten Pounds. Because this course of antibiotics is mercifully short, I'll likely only make it to Circle Four: Dear God Make It Stop. 

If my doctor extends them (DEAR GOD I HOPE NOT), I'll likely have further circles, like Circle Five: I Can't Stop Sweating and None Of My Pants Fit, or Circle Six: I Can't Eat Anything and I'm Very Frustrated and I Don't Want to Eat Anything So I'm Going to Look at Watermelon in the Produce Aisle and Start Crying Uncontrollably In the Grocery Store and Leave Empty-Handed.

I just have to keep thinking to myself that I'm starting to feel better and repeating that to myself over the next five days.