One Year - Still Lopsided

Well, here we are.  One year ago today, a bunch of people in hospital scrubs tied me down to a bed and rolled me, kicking and screaming, into an operating room so they could fish around in my gut to find out if I had a left kidney they could dissect.  Yep, one year and that kidney is still missing from my left side.  I guess I am still a bit lop-sided.

Ok.  I suppose I should be serious for a moment - if that is at all possible.  A tumor had been found, cancer had been diagnosed and the kidney had to go.  So, it went - on April 28, 2021.

One of the few things that is similar this year is the forsythia bush near the southwest corner of the house is in bloom.  Otherwise, the progress of Spring is a couple weeks behind where we were last year.  And, happily, my one year check-up came back with a clean-bill, as far as cancer is concerned.

As sort of a "throwback Thursday" post, I thought I'd look back at last year's struggle with the surgery and all that surrounded it with the perspective gained after a year post-surgery.  At the least, it might amuse me - and maybe be interesting to some of you?

One week before surgery, I wrote :

The recovery time that follows is bound to be frustrating as I realize I will be unable to do many of the things I am used to doing on the farm in the month of May.  So, we're trying to do everything we can to prepare - and we're trying to do everything else that we feel we want to have done before surgery too.

It's not possible and we know it.

So, we will do what we always do.  We will come to the realization that some things will get done and others will not.  Our goals will shrink each day as we identify things we hoped to do that are no longer feasible.  I'll berate myself for the half hour I spent with my eyes closed in a chair because I felt tired at midday.  I'll question my efficiency and my choices for the tasks I elected to do.  And, hopefully, I'll find myself in that special zone that lasts for two to three days and things on the task list get done, one after the other.

Sometimes, when we look into the future, we actually get it right...

Yes, I was almost constantly frustrated as I went through recovery.  And, yes, as the days moved forward and the surgery loomed ever closer, our goals were reduced by necessity.  But, happily, I was able to put on a very big push and many things got done.

A few weeks AFTER the surgery, I reflected on all of the falsehoods we like to tell ourselves about recovery from injuries, illness, or surgery:

There was no way we could get ahead of everything before the surgery - even if we did give it a valiant effort.

I wasn't really able to enjoy reading or most other quiet activities I like for the first two weeks after surgery.  In fact, I would NOT call that period of time restful.  Instead, it was a lot of work. And, it mostly just exercised my tolerance for delayed gratification.  Now that I can read, etc, I have to get back to work.  So... never mind.


And no.  Most of the world kept on walking as I tied my shoe.  Now I'm trying to double-step to catch back up.

When we tell another person to "be nice to themselves" and "take time to recover," it always sounds so pleasant.  The fact of the matter is this:  It is TRUE that we need to take time to recover and we need to give ourselves permission to do so.  But, it is NOT necessarily true that the process is at all nice, or at all relaxing, or... frankly... at all desirable (other than the hope that full recovery will eventually be reached).

Maybe we need to say things like, "give yourself permission to focus only on the work that comes with healing."  Or, "it's okay to feel frustrated or a bit down while you are recovering, but don't give up!" And, "remind yourself that is okay to ask for help, even if you really don't want it sometimes."

Recovery for the first day or so after the surgery was played out in fifteen minute increments.

• Fifteen minutes in the chair in the recovery room.
• Fifteen minutes standing in the recovery room.  
• Fifteen minutes pacing in the room, dragging all of the various post-surgery accoutrements with me.  
• Fifteen minutes in the chair with my head back, thinking, I have to sleep.
• Waking up and thinking, "HA! I got some sleep!"
• Then looking at the clock and seeing...
• yep, 15 minutes had passed.

I would like to tell myself that this will never happen again, but I suspect that we all will have times in our lives where this is the way things will go.  Fifteen minutes of survival, followed by fifteen minutes of survival.. and none of it terribly pleasant.  At least I had the promise that this was very unlikely to be permanent - and that was very important to me.

And, of course, I got to go through the whole process of celebrating things that we take for granted most days in our lives.  Finally sleeping in my own bed after a few days in a recliner.  Actually sleeping for MORE than fifteen minutes.  Walking out to Crazy Maurice the willow tree and back.  I mean - I actually "celebrated" having a bowel movement for goodness sake!  But it was all PROGRESS.  And I was gifted with that progress on a regular basis - and for that I am grateful.

And, looking back, I am humbled by the help provided by friends and the well-wishes sent through the mail.  All of these things were critical components of what I think could be called a "rapid recovery period" even if I constantly chafed at what I felt was a terribly slow process.

For weeks afterward I continued to struggle to regain my concentration and energy levels.  Last year, at the end of May, I tried to put in words what it was like:

Let me explain just a little more.  This tired is a special kind of tired that people who have had similar surgeries might understand.  The brain just kind of ... refuses... to do more.  In a little bit, it will just flip a switch and I'll be asleep.  That's pretty odd for me, as I am typically a light sleeper and it usually takes a while to wind down so I can sleep.

This is something I no longer must deal with, thank goodness.  But, it actually took me several months (maybe as much as a half year) before I could say I hadn't felt that way recently.  Sure, I can get tired and fall to sleep quickly now.  But, it's not the same thing as the kind of tired I was attempting to explain here.  This was a tired where there was no choice in the matter.  I was done and my brain and body weren't having any more of whatever I was doing.  If I didn't get to a place where I could rest, it would all shut down and I would be resting wherever it was that I WAS at that moment.

And, through it all, Tammy was the ultimate Guardian Dragon.  I suspect she felt as tired - or more tired - than I did through it all.

But, this year, we don't have to do that sort of thing - at least we're not planning on it!  And, today, I'm going to leave you with the thoughts that I wrote on the day prior to surgery - to be published on the day of surgery:

I hope you will be well.  Be kind to each other.  Remember to stop and greet the flowers when they dress up for you.  Nod a greeting to the bees as they pass you by on their way to work.  Skritch a cat and provide them with taxi service if they ask and you are able.  Patiently listen to a tree as it takes the time to use all of the words it needs to describe something to you.  Really listen to some music or to a bird sing.  Watch the sunrise or the sunset.  Do what you do with integrity and show empathy for others.  Work hard and take care of yourself.  Learn something new.  Share something you enjoy with someone else.  Listen carefully and think well.

And, be the voice that tells someone else that they are loved.