Around 10am however, those intentions changed. Fast.
It turns out that sitting up in an office chair is different than sitting up in your bed. That wearing a pair of nice work pants is different than rolling around in pajama bottoms. And that as sedentary as my job is… It isn’t sedentary enough.
I made it until 1:00. I then gracefully bowed out. Proclaiming my inability to make it through the rest of the day.
Thankfully, I have a truly amazing and understanding boss. One who is supportive of whatever I need in this time of healing.
Because the truth is – despite the best of intentions; I just couldn’t do it.
And here is the point I want to make: I know my body. Better than anyone.
I know my body.
There were those yesterday truly concerned about me pushing myself too hard too fast, and to them I just want to make this one point:
I know exactly how hard I can push myself. And exactly when it's time to pull back.
I have done everything in this process whilst following Dr. Cook’s rules. I had clearance from him to fly home on Friday; I didn’t do so until Saturday. Because I knew I wasn’t ready. I had clearance from him to start back to work on Monday. I didn’t do so until today. Because I knew I wasn’t ready. And as much as I thought for sure I would be able to handle a full day; I also was the first to admit it wasn’t going to happen as soon as I realized how much more difficult sitting at a desk was than I had anticipated.
I know my body.
And yes, I checked out of the hospital earlier than the good Dr. had originally anticipated, but he wouldn't have let me go if he thought it was that bad of an idea. He would have put up more of a fight if it truly was unadvisable. I had made it clear from day 1 that I hated hospitals, so I think we both knew that if there was any way at all for me to leave early; that's what I was going to do. I no longer wanted the morphine drip, and at that point - there was really no reason to keep me. I was walking to the bathroom on my own, getting the deed done, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would sleep better in a quiet hotel than I would in a noisy hospital while hooked up to an IV. I don't regret leaving the hospital early at all, because I know it was what was best for me.
I spoke to Dr. Cook’s office today for my first follow-up phone consult. Everything I am feeling and experiencing is normal. They reminded me again that the endometriosis that was removed from throughout my body was extensive. That it had spread deeper and further than expected. And that even though my incisions look the same as they did for my last two surgeries – this surgery was not the same. In fact, I was informed today that most other doctors would have opted to open me completely up for this procedure. That most would not have been able to do what Dr. Cook was able to do laparoscopically.
I was reminded today how truly blessed I am to have found this phenomenal surgeon. One of only a handful in this country who would have even attempted to remove all the bad tissue he was able to remove. And perhaps one of the only capable of doing so with such precision and care that I'm in the position now to even be contemplating returning to work.
But I was also told to continue trying things as I felt ready. Listening to my body and pulling back if my attempts felt too difficult, but to continue trying nonetheless.
I am not taking any of this for granted. I know the gift I have been given in this surgery. I know the blessing it is going to bestow upon my life here in the very near future (as soon as I do manage to heal all the way up). I know that I need to be easy with myself now, so that I can truly enjoy the benefits later.
In that same breath though, I also know that I am not a girl who will ever milk anything. That no good will come to me from staying in bed longer than I need to just because I can. That my mental health is just as important as my physical health.
And the truth is that in order for my mental health to thrive; I need to at least be trying to re-enter my life.
Even if I fail only half-way through the day.
I need to be trying.
And I need to be setting goals and moving forward. One foot in front of the other.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
I have no intentions of starting an exercise routine without my doctor’s consent. No intentions of pushing any harder or faster than he thinks I should. But… I do intend on pushing. On forcing myself to try. On testing the limits to see what I am and am not capable of as soon as I am given permission to do so.
Because, that’s who I am. I learned a long time ago that coddling myself really served no good purpose. There have been 1000 times where I could have curled up in a ball and allowed endometriosis to consume me while popping pain pill after pain pill to get through the days, but I chose not to do that. I chose to endure. I chose to fight. It wasn’t easy, but I truly believe those choices fared better for me than simply succumbing to the pain of this disease. And so I have to admit; I will continue to make the same choices even in my healing. Because it’s who I am. Because it’s who I want to be.
And so tomorrow, I will get up again. I will try again. And it’s possible that I’ll only make it a half day again. That I won’t be able to accomplish much more than I did today. That I will be more than thankful for Friday to come and go as well, so that I can collapse into the comfort of a 3 day weekend.
But it’s also possible that I will discover tomorrow to be easier than today. That I will realize the discomfort isn’t quite so strong. The exhaustion not quite as gripping.
It’s possible that tomorrow I’ll make it 6 hours instead of 5. Or that I may even reach the end of the day without thinking once about leaving early.
And if that happens, it will be something I wouldn’t even have realized I was capable of if I had chosen instead to stay curled up in bed clinging to my discomfort in fear of re-entering the real world.
You never know until you try.
And I intend to continue trying. To continue moving forward with the best of intentions.
Knowing full well that if whatever I’m trying turns out to be too much, I can always step back and reevaluate.
Intent only on trying again another day. Again, with only the best of intentions.
Until eventually, it no longer feels like trying.
It just feels like living.
