Good Omen?

The time had come once again.  I had to go and get my insides scanned to look for any hint of the cancer that resulted in the removal of my left kidney two and a half years ago.  

So, I took the drive down to Waterloo and went through the process on Tuesday this past week.  It could be so easy to be grumpy and short because, frankly, this wasn't something I WANTED to do.  In fact, it really is something I would rather not be spending my time on.  Who would?  

But, I always remind myself that the people at the front desk who take my name, confirm my address and take photocopies of my identification, are simply doing the job they have been hired to do.  These people, the nurses, and the technicians see person after person.  Nearly every one of these people they see might rather be somewhere else than dealing with whatever it is that makes it necessary for them to visit this medical facility.

So, I put on my best self, even if I am not feeling it at the moment.  And, typically, the interaction is pleasant - because that is part of the job these people do that must certainly be difficult to fulfill at times.

I had to return on Friday to hear the verdict.  Would there be evidence of cancer or not?  Would there be a short, pleasant conversation and a quick discussion about the next time I would be scanned in the "distant future?"  Or would there be a longer, less pleasant conversation?

My lovely bride took some time off from her teaching to accompany me into the building, and after we sat down, I noticed movement in the entry way.  I pointed it out to Tammy and we both recognized the praying mantis.  After a quick discussion, I went and got the mantis and took him outside, placing him on a tree nearby.

It even let me take a couple of quick photos with the phone.

There are two types of praying mantids (mantids is the plural form of mantis) in Iowa.  Both prefer the southern part of the state.  This would be a Chinese Praying Mantis, which were introduced to the United States in the 1800s.  They are larger than the Carolina Mantis, with a body size that can reach 4+ inches.  

This particular Chinese Praying Mantis was on the upper end of their size range and the legs and wings made it appear even larger.  The legs are serrated and very strong and I was a bit surprised by how it could lift itself up with only 1 leg have clear purchase to start a climb.

Praying mantids are amazing predators, but they are very opportunistic and they do not discriminate.  They're a bit like dragonflies, they'll eat what they can catch.  In fact, a praying mantis youngster may well eat some of its siblings.  They'll eat pest insects and they'll eat beneficial insects.  So, for those who might feel like adding Praying Mantids to their gardens for pest control, they might find the end result is not quite the perfect solution they were hoping for.

Still, the presence of a larger insect predator is exciting and interesting.  And I certainly would not find their presence on our farm to be a bad thing.

And as far as Friday was concerned, I chose to see this encounter as a good omen.  And it was.  We got the all clear.  Of course, we get to go through it all again next October - our new "distant future."  But, for now, it's all good.

And I got to say hello to a Praying Mantis.

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.

Cycles

We're all subject to them at one level or another.  The cycles of life are all around us in nearly every sense.

We have a daily cycle of dark, then light, then dark again as the earth spins.  We sleep, we get up, we do things and we sleep again.  And, of course, those daily cycles are influenced by the longer, yearly cycle as Earth travels around the sun.  The periods of light are growing shorter and the periods of dark, longer.  It's the way it is - and there are times when we handle it well - and others when we don't.

At the Genuine Faux Farm, we are twice blessed with cycles that have their beginnings and endings every year and are related to our occupations.  The farm, of course, has its yearly production cycles.  The raising of chicks, the planting of seeds - then the collection of eggs and the harvest from the plants that came from those seeds.  And, it just so happens that we also work with the academic or school calendar as Tammy goes through faculty workshops, student registration, etc and then moves through a school term until they reach their conclusions with final projects, exams and evaluation.

The cycles themselves have their stress-points.  And sometimes, the cycles of farm and school have coinciding stress points.... Like late August into early September.  

So, what happens when other things "go wrong" around those combined stress points?  Things like a storm that gives us some additional work to do?  Or maybe some equipment that decides not to work all that well for a while - requiring a shift to do repairs rather than the planned efforts?  

What happens when the beautiful blooms of sunflowers can be found laying in a grassy area after they were decapitated from their stalks?  Disrupting their natural cycle and, of course, symbolizing disruptions to the farmers' cycles as well?

We often do what we can to just keep moving - because that's what we have to do.  But, sometimes that results in an unhealthy sort of denial.  When we don't allow ourselves to recognize that we're feeling a little "out of sorts" then we don't do anything to address the problem(s).  Then, we find ourselves looking around and wondering why we aren't getting things done the way we usually do.

 I am still grieving a bit that the beautiful sunflowers were abruptly terminated a couple of weeks ago.  Yes, it is true - they were on the decline after a glorious peak.  But, I was looking forward to a few melancholy viewings where I appreciated the remaining beauty, but still wished for the peak blooms.  That may sound a bit odd - but observing the natural cycle of an annual flower is part of what keeps me ... well... healthy and grounded.  

But, suddenly all of the stalks are splintered and the flower heads were scattered over the ground.  The Goldfinches won't get their lovely Fall and Winter forest of stalks and seeds to flit around in this year.

Certainly, the end of our sunflowers this year is more symbolic to me rather than "the cause of all of my woes."  But, examining how I felt about their early exit helps me to understand better why some things are harder to do than they should be right now.  

We all go through these cycles in one way or another.  Good energy to get things done at one time and very little energy for the same things at another time.  I've found that, for me, the first step to getting some of that good energy back is to recognize that I don't currently have it.  Time to cycle upwards again.

Breathe First - Then Do

A friend posted on social media that they were feeling overwhelmed by the pandemic, by the current climate news... by all of the things going on whether it is personal or global.  This is an individual I know who does care for more than their own comfort - and I understand how difficult it is to balance between care and worry.

The part of the post that spoke to me was, "Must breathe.... Soothe me, friends."

First, I was honored that, perhaps, I could be considered a friend.  And second, I realized I also needed to breathe and I could use some soothing.

So, I put a reply out there with a picture that soothes me - and I wrote: "Breathe first - then do." 

After I posted that reply, I thought about it more - and when that happens, a blog often follows.

Was I writing those words and sharing that picture to soothe myself or to soothe the person who made the original post?  Does that really matter?

We all have things we care about and things we want to do.  Many of us find that we are overwhelmed by how much there is to do and how little of it we tend to get done.  We despair that it doesn't seem to matter what we manage to get done because it won't make a difference.  We get frustrated, we get angry or depressed (or both), and we start to worry that everything is getting away - all for the worst.

Personally, I still worry a bit about my health after kidney surgery and I worry about everyone's health with the pandemic.  I am concerned that we are poisoning our world with pesticides and we don't seem to care about the natural world as we should.  I teeter between the edge of despair and a wild, unsubstantiated hope that we'll figure it all out.

Breathe first - then do.

Tammy and I were able to take a few moments over the past couple of weeks to watch some of the Olympic athletes compete in the Summer Games.  These are people who have dedicated themselves to excelling at one thing and this event is the pinnacle of their achievement - whether they receive gold or finish last in the opening heat of a particular event.

The platform diver takes a deep breath before falling, in a controlled fashion, to the water three stories below.  The volleyball player takes a deep breath before putting the ball over the net on their serve.  The discus thrower takes a breath before unwinding themselves in preparation for the throw.

Breathe first - then do.

Our lives are the event we have prepared ourselves for and this moment is the pinnacle of our achievement.  Just as the next will also be the pinnacle of our achievement.  And the next...

But, before we achieve, we must breathe.  

Breathe first - then do.

Concentrate

There is one ability I have had a fair measure of pride in throughout most of my life.  I typically have been able to concentrate well when I decide that I WILL concentrate.  But, what happens when something you feel is a strength feels like it has abandoned you for a time?

To illustrate that point, I show you this photo of green bean plants with flowers.  What does it have to do with today's topic?  Nothing!  Well, maybe I'll find a way to tie it in  We'll see.

First, let me do the full-disclosure thing: I do not pretend that I am always able to concentrate fully on whatever it is I am doing at any given moment.  Like most everyone else, there are annoyingly large portions of my life where I could not be bothered to focus on something - even though it should have been important enough for me to do so.

What I am trying to say is that when I decide I am going to put my focus on something and I put some energy into it, I typically will stick with it until it is done.  This is true even if the job gets tedious or I become mentally and physically tired.  The difference here is that I might not choose to concentrate fully on something - which can be disappointing.  Right now, I am not sure I can fully concentrate even when I DO choose to do so.

I am the same person who, as a child, sorted through ALL of the jumbled nails, screws and other fasteners on Dad's workbench when I was a kid.  To be clear - Dad was a siding contractor at the time and he often would dump his pouch of fasteners into jars or other containers without worrying about which thing went where.  What was important for him was that he could find what he needed in his pouch while at the job, so he needed to start fresh with each job.  The leftovers and what was on the workbench were not exactly the same thing.

I suppose you could argue that sorting these things should not take too much concentration.  That might be true if you weren't also trying to learn the different fasteners at the same time you were sorting. I will say that I did learn a fair bit about them.  And some of it has even stuck with me to this day.  (Let's not bring up all of the things I have FORGOTTEN since that time...)

 

I am talking about a different kind of concentration - not the kind that you use when you harvest a row of green beans (see!  I did it!) or walk rows of potatoes looking for potato beetles to remove.  In those cases, your brain does not have to engage fully in your task.  You can listen to a book tape, have a conversation or just let your mind wander.  The task requires that you keep moving and keep certain senses alert, but concentration is not completely on the task.

Note - those are some nice potato plants in the photo just above us.  See, I tied them into this blog too!  Yay me!

In any event (see Rob try to pull his concentration back into line again), it seems that the next part of my recovery is re-establishing my ability to fully concentrate when I need to.  I've been doing my best to exercise my body and now I find I need to expend more effort on my mind as well.  Yes, it is true that I expect a very high level of concentration when I choose to use it.

So, why has this been a problem for me?  

Well, you could actually argue that it hasn't been a problem because I HAVE been concentrating very hard on recovering from surgery.  Perhaps I dedicated my will-power to that purpose so much that I should not expect to concentrate at a high level on other things?  The lead up to surgery, the worry that is cancer, and the process of healing can be pretty distracting from... well... everything else.

So, I have chosen to accept that this is simply a part of the recovery process and I will work through it so that my concentration will return to where it once was.  And, perhaps, my will-power to use it more readily when I should may grow to a greater capacity than it once was.

Because I appreciate it more now that it I feel it has (temporarily) abandoned me.

--------------------------

And - here's to a nice day that was a good bit cooler than it has been.  The farm received a little over a half inch of rain on Sunday - something we were needing desperately.   We could have used a bit more, but we know better than to cry for more rain - when we have, we get way to much....

Have a good day and an excellent week everyone!

Farmer Update

Yes, you read the title right.  This is a farmer update, not a FARM update.

Although, you might be on to something if you figure there can't be an update of the farmers without some farm thrown in.

You may recall that I did have surgery to remove a cancerous kidney on April 28 of this year.  By May 5, I was able to write my first blog update for those who wanted to know how I was doing.  And, on that same day I went out into Eden and pushed a seeder and did a tiny bit of cultivating with a stirrup hoe.  I didn't last too long - about 15 minutes - but that's how long everything seemed to go at that point.  Some of the milestones we celebrated as I recovered were pretty humbling.  

I am now seven and a half weeks post-surgery.  I had my check-in with the surgeon and he pronounced me "still alive," which I considered to be a good thing as I agreed with him.  All formal lifting and activity restrictions are removed at this point, though he did tell me I should "listen to my body" and not get too crazy.

Well darn it.  I was going to hoist a piano over my head and toss it over the Harvestore silo.  

I guess I'll wait until next week to do that.

I think most people who have had a chance to observe would say that this has been a pretty quick recovery.  But, I would like to add that while I have been fairly aggressive with keeping moving, I have been playing the long-game by quickly identifying movements that would require caution.  

Happily, most motions are approaching some level of normalcy.  I can hoist the water and feed buckets and put implements on the tractor.  The biggest difference is that I am still rebuilding strength that was lost when I wasn't doing any of this lifting. 

On other fronts, I still have some trouble with concentration, especially on writing or office tasks.  At this point, I suspect it has more to do with building endurance.  Similar to the loss of some of my muscular strength because I was not using them as I was prior to surgery, I lost some of the 'muscles' for these other tasks.  I just have to build them back up.

I no longer flinch if something touches the incision areas, but I still don't care to have a cat decide she wants to knead directly on them and I don't think about my recovery every other moment of the day as I had been just a few weeks ago.

The biggest difference, however, is the relief I feel that I can pull my own weight at the farm and in our household.  And who knows, maybe I'll be able to offer help to others when they need it too.

It's good to be on the off-ramp from recovery and back onto the highway.

Approaching Limits

A common theme in the life of the Genuine Faux Farmers - both Rob and Tammy - is that we are ambitious, we expect a great deal out of ourselves, and our "to do" lists are typically far longer than we have time to accomplish everything in....

Little things.  Things that, by themselves, really shouldn't take too much time or effort, just don't get done and then they become larger things in our heads.  Things like putting the reducer in the beehive at the left.

For those who don't see it or understand - look at the openings at the bottom of each hive.  The one on the left goes the whole width of the hive.  The one on the right has been reduced to a few inches in width.  The concept is to give the bees a smaller area to defend against critters that might want to invade.

If you still don't see what I'm talking about, just seize onto the explanation that a smaller opening is easier to defend and leave it at that.

The reducer is just a small piece of wood that gets pushed into the larger opening.  The trick is, you don't really want to do it when the hive is active.  This is an early morning or late evening task.  But, our mornings are usually filled with numerous chores.  Our evenings also have chores... and much less energy.

And, to be perfectly honest, we tried to put one in last night and found that they were cut just a little long.  So, the task got a bit more complicated... and we were tired.  So, we left it for tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Temperatures have been predicted to be unseasonably low Friday night with possible patchy frost.  Now we feel less happy about having gotten all of these cucumbers planted.  Will we be able to cover these plants to protect them?  It really depends on when the winds calm.  If they calm too late, I suspect we'll just hope we get lucky.

Why?

Because our limits get reached a bit sooner than they might have other months of May.

I think I fully realized today (Thursday) that both of us are still operating with limits on our energy and ability to function that are still lower than usual.  Why?  Because both of us are still recovering from surgery.

Tammy had to carry a heavy burden for many days, taking care of all of the chores and all of the animals.  Trying to do what she had to do for Wartburg.  And, being a "Guardian Dragon" for her partner (that would be me).  There was understandable worry, fear, and frustration and it took its toll.  It only makes sense that she might still be trying to recover lost sleep and find some mental and physical balance that was lost.

I, of course, am still healing.  That means that I get tired more quickly than I think is right for the amount of effort I put into things.  I sat down this evening with the idea that I could knock off a couple of "smallish" tasks that required some concentration.  I was motivated to do them.  But, my brain refused to concentrate on them.  So - I decided to finish this blog post and hope that it makes sense tomorrow (Friday) when people read it.

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.

I pushed fairly hard to do some physical farm things when the weather was nicer.  But, Thursday's rain allowed me to do indoor work and my body was telling me that I had pushed it a little.  

First, let me assure you - this was nothing serious.  I stayed well within safe limits, but I did push myself within those well-established limits.  This was just my body saying that, "Hey.  You did actually expend some energy and move around and use some muscles (in a good way) and thank you for doing that.  Since I am also trying to heal you up, could you slow down a little and let me do that work now?  Then you can be up and moving again tomorrow."

It's all good.  But, I guess I'll just have to move a few items from today's "Very Ambitious Plan" (VAP) to tomorrow's VAP.  

That's normal.  So, recovery is progressing nicely.

Have a nice day and upcoming weekend everyone!  Now, I will follow the advice of the Sandman... and go take a night-long nap!

Kindness Received

 I have always liked getting "real mail" and it is possible I enjoy sending real mail just as much.  But, with the trends toward email, social media and other electronic communications, mail delivered by the US Postal Service tends to be bills or advertisements.  Even I - the person who claims to like to send real mail - fail to do very well when it comes to sending things out.  Every so often I send a batch of things out, but probably not as often as I would like.

Apparently, Tammy let people know that I would like to get some real mail from people as I recovered from surgery.  And, boy, I have been loving getting the real mail!

Thank you!

I received one package that included envelopes and postcards that had been received and saved.  The first item shown at the left was among them.  It is a simple letter sent from Norway to the United States - a nice example of modern postal history.  I enjoyed digging through the pile.  Now I need to look again since I am a little less 'foggy.'

I have also been the beneficiary of a batch of postcards that include puns.  In fact, a number of the cards have also included some puns, jokes and words of advice.

One of my favorites is shown here.

"I know a guy who got into photographing salmon in different outfits.  He said he liked shooting fish in apparel."

A close second was "I have a new favorite word - 'drool' - it rolls right off the tongue."  That's not a pun, but it sure made me chuckle.  Belly-laughs are still off-limits for a little while yet.

I have been the recipient of some homemade cards and various commercially made cards.  Thus far, I have seen a couple of designs more than once.  What does it say when a chicken wearing sunglasses and slippers speaks to people as they look for something to send me?

Someone else sent me a crossword puzzle book - which I can now say that I have solved most of the puzzles in the book already.  They were just the perfect level for me to work even though I didn't feel my best.  It was nice to exercise the brain a bit, without having to fight too much.

Just prior to surgery I got a nice care package with some books to read and a book of puzzles.  The books were pretty easy reads - just what I needed and the puzzles run the gamut from easy to really hard.  Still working on that one.

My co-workers at PAN sent me a wonderful packet of picture of their pets encouraging me to rest and recover.  There were pictures of 'cloud therapy' and personal artwork and snow on a mountain... in Hawaii.  It felt good to have the people I work with send me healing messages.

And, of course, Tammy and I have sent mail to each other over the years.  We have two running traditions.  One is to re-use a card by sending to each other with a new message in it.  Some of our traditional favorites have no more space to write more.  Another trick is to send a letter with questions in it.  The recipient has to send it back with replies and they often will add some new questions to the list.

Yeah.  We could just talk to each other - and we do.  But, this is fun too.

I thought I'd share a few of the things I have received here, but there are several others that aren't shown.  Whether something you sent is here or not, please know that I have appreciated each and every piece of real mail.

Again, you have my thanks.

Now I've got a new task.  I've got to start SENDING some real mail.

Recovery Falsehoods

There are certain lies that you tell yourself and that some people help perpetuate as you prepare for a major life event - such as a major surgery.  Lies like:

• If we just push, we can get ahead of things so we won't have to dig out so much after the event.
• You can rest and maybe distract yourself with enjoyable, quiet activities such as reading, etc during recovery.
• The rest of the world will cut you some slack as you recover - kind of like the friend who stands patiently while you tie a shoestring.
  

I am now three weeks removed from surgery (can you believe that?) and I am pretty much done with the post-surgery fog.  I can move around pretty well, but I still have to limit my activities to avoid straining my torso - for all of the obvious reasons.  

As far as recovery goes, I think I am doing pretty well if you limit it to just the physical recovery.  But, I am also at the point in the recovery process where I am now fully aware of these facts:

• 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 enjoy 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.
  

Am I really as upset as I sound as I write this blog?  

No.  Not really.  After all, I do believe that Tammy and I did about as well as we could have asked ourselves to be prepared for this.  Our lives are not a complete shambles at this point in time and we are accomplishing a number of things each day.  And, there has been all kinds of wonderful support sent our way.  

If there is one thing that concerns me, it is the amount of stress and strain this all has put on Tammy.  If you know us, this won't surprise you.  I'm typically more worried about her and she's usually more worried about me.  Let's just say that I am glad I have been able to take up more responsibilities each day to help lessen the load on her and leave it at that.

Yes, the broilers are out of the brooder room and now on pasture.  Yes, Valhalla got moved.  Yes, we've planted half of our onions in the field.  Yes, Eden is planted.  And, yes, I am starting to get some things done in the office too.

In the end, this is more an observation of how we, as humans, often obscure the truth from ourselves when it comes to potentially difficult things.  The real question I have for myself is what purpose this serves.  Does it allow us to face difficult things with a bit more optimism?  Is it a way to build up one's own courage?  Or is it just attempts to project how things are going to be in an uncertain future?

Probably all of the above in some way, shape or form.

There you have it - just some things I've been thinking.  It's a dangerous pastime you know.

Mini-Milestones

One part of me is completely shocked how many days have passed since surgery and another part is fully aware of exactly ALL of the days since I started the process that began with a "cleanse" of the digestive system on April 27.  

I was even more disconcerted as I was considering what we were doing on April 26, 27 AND even the morning of April 28 (surgery was in the afternoon of April 28).  Tammy and I were working very hard to try to get everything we could taken care of on the farm, at the house, at school and for my job.  We were working outside doing farm things right up until we grabbed what we needed for the afternoon and drove south to the hospital.

I'd hop right on the tractor and drive it somewhere and hop down to load up brush into a bucket, then I'd hop right back up....  you get the idea.  Other than my normal caution I use to stay safe on the farm, I wasn't thinking overly much about making my body do the things I wanted it to do.  I just did it.

This came back to me as we were walking around the farm on Sunday.  I took a trip out to visit with Crazy Maurice, checked out Valhalla, noticed a few sunflowers coming up in one of our fields and then even did a short bit of mowing on the lawn tractor.  That's not bad from the standpoint of recovery.

But, in comparison to how free and easy the work was on the morning of April 28, it can be a little disturbing.

Don't worry, I am fully committed to a properly cautious and appropriate recovery and rehabilitation.  I know full well that over-extending can result in MORE down-time.  I just have to find a way to appreciate the mini-milestones that I have reached recently.  They don't sound like much - unless you have also experienced a surgery or procedure like this - then you'll probably appreciate why they are worth celebrating.

I finally managed to sleep an entire night in my own bed.   While it is true that there are only a few positions that are fully comfortable for sleep, it is better than the SINGLE position that was possible in the reclining chair.  Is it absurd to finally decide to get up and feel a sense of accomplishment that you successfully slept?  If you're fully healthy, perhaps it is.  But, for me, it was a huge win.

But, wait.  If you think that one is silly... how silly is to celebrate the fact that you had a bowel movement?  Very!  Unless you haven't had a normal bowel movement for a while.  Then, you just might understand.  (too much information?  don't care - my blog!)

Walking for ten minutes on the treadmill that was kindly loaned to us so I could use it to recover was another mini milestone.  I did accomplish that one fairly early - but it was at a pace that was more of a shuffle than a walk.  I celebrated far more when I managed to walk a ten minute session at a normal pace.  When you compare it to how I was moving prior to surgery it seems a bit silly to celebrate "I walked" as a milestone.  

I managed to plant a double row of lima beans using our light Earthway seeder one week to the day after surgery.  This was one of my stated goals going into this and I am pleased that I managed it as well.  We both knew that moving was going to be a big part of recovery, so a well contained bit of seeding that would require not straining on my part was reasonable.  Add in the moral victory that it was something we needed to do for the farm....

And, I have been able to water the plant seedlings most days for the past several days too.  This is often a task we just do without thinking about it too much.  Suddenly, it is MY task that I CAN do so I can feel that I am contributing a bit.  The mini-milestone here is that the number of tasks that I can comfortably and safely do has been growing, which makes me feel better about myself.  Another win.

And, that's your Farmer Rob update for May 10.  Still a bit frustrated that he can't do what he could just a couple of weeks ago with ease, but pleased that each day has provided a few mini-milestones.

Life in Fifteens

 Yesterday's post was pretty short and disjointed, but I think it works as an update post.  Let's see if I can do something more for Thursday.

I have been amazed and humbled by the well-wishes and kind words.  But, I'm not yet sure how to answer "how's the recovery going?"  The normal issue of not wanting to overburden someone who was just trying to let me know they cared enough to ask (but didn't' really want much in the way of detail) plays into it, of course.  

The other problem is the fact that my status, from my perspective can be different from moment to moment.  I felt pretty good fifteen minutes ago, so I took a slightly more brisk walk outside.  After the walk, I felt pretty good but was more tired than I had a right to be (my opinion).  A half hour before, my stomach was feeling kind of sour, so you'd have gotten yet another reading.

Recovery is simply a winding road - and it can be hard to accept that.  

Perhaps that's my best answer.

On the whole, I would rather be riding today's 15 minute roller coaster than last Wednesday's (or pretty much any day from then to yesterday).  That must mean things are looking up.

I've really had it on my mind that I've been trying to get through 15 minute chunks of life lately.  Why?  Because sometimes that's about as far into the future I could manage to consider.  

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.

Things ARE better than that by a long ways now and I'll take it.

But, I may never look at 15 minutes the same way again.