No one enjoys being out of the game. That's how I've felt these last few weeks. I am not a good sick person. Ask anyone. I hate it. I am miserable, and I can make everyone around me miserable. Pain medication apparently makes it even worse. Ask my husband, he will tell you.
The good news is I have never been seriously sick before. A few colds, a case of the flu or strep once or twice, but nothing major. Stitches twice, both when I was a child. No broken bones or major injuries. Two surgeries, both c-sections because my all of my children have unusually large heads and they arrived 14 months apart (single first, twins last). I have always been healthy and active.
Until about three weeks ago.
The world came to screeching halt. I have never had even the slightest back problem before. When I made my original trip to the family doctor early this summer, it was for an odd left leg pain. My back didn't even hurt. We suspected mild sciatica that exercise and anti-inflammatory drugs could eliminate. We never imagined it would lead to surgery.
Back surgery. For a completely ruptured disk that was not only useless, it was also compressing a nerve root than ran the length of my entire left leg. Serious pain. As in no longer able to walk without tears pain. Two trips to the ER pain. Pain that strong medication like Lortab and Percocet could not even begin to touch.
It sucked.
The diagnosis and surgeryy happened so quickly I didn't really have time to worry about it until afterward. That's when I started thinking about how serious it was, about how many things could have gone incredibly, horribly wrong.
I have three children, two with special needs. I am not allowed to be sick or unwell. I am not allowed to sit out of the game.
But for two weeks I have been expected to do just that. Bed rest, with only limited breaks every few hours for a little walking. The couch or the bed have been my unwilling home these last few weeks. I have hated every waking minute of it. The sleeping ones were not much better, as getting comfortable with fresh, scabbed, two-inch incision in your lower back is kind of hard to do.
A few days ago, I took myself off the pain medication and off bed rest. My surgeon would probably not be impressed, but I didn't ask. I started slow, just getting out of the house for half an hour did a world of good. Sunday's baseball adventure was even better. But of course, it made me want more. I am tired of laying around the house, seeing all the things that need to be done and being expected not to do them. I am getting up to do things, and then going back to rest. The laptop is a good friend on the couch, and a new Nook book also helps. But I will not stay there for hours at a time any more. I simply cannot do it.
Today I am planning to help Josh with the boys at speech therapy. I will wait in the truck with two of the boys while he takes each twin in for their individual therapy. I do not think I am quite up to participating in therapy that often involves rolling around on the floor, physcially coralling five-year olds, or turns in the occupational therapy play room (think lots of swings, crash mats and sensory-seeking heaven toys).
Slowly. I am trying to be good.
We will overlook the fact that the first thing I did this morning after not being able to fall back asleep was to get up, clean the inch-layer of dust off all three ceiling fans in the living room and play room (which, of course, has been mocking me these last few weeks as I lay on the couch since I can see all three of them). I also may or may not have vaccuumed most of the house (all but the bedrooms) after said inch-layer of dust left the fans and sprinkled brilliantly all over the floors. It went well with the dog hair from the big, spoiled puppy. So really, I had no choice.
But then I took a break. Really. And the only other things on my list for today are folding the load of laundry in the dryer (will take 15 minutes, tops) and writing some thank-you notes to all of the wonderful friends and family who have helped us these last few weeks, whether helping with the boys, sending over food or gift cards for food, or just being there for us. And I can even do that one sitting down.
But I will not go back to the couch or the bed all day long. I will not take the awful pain medicine that was making me sleepy and sick and ... well, let's face it ... cranky and hateful.
Tomorrow we have another baseball game. And maybe one day this week I can convince Josh to take me out to lunch before his leave ends and he has to go back to work (he's been off the last two weeks taking care of the kiddos and the house and me). My appetite is slowly returning, though I still feel sick to my stomach when I am up on my feet for too long. And surely I will be allowed to drive again soon, especially now that I am off the of the stronger medication.
Slowly, but surely, just like I alwasys say with the boys. Nothing comes easy or quickly, but it comes just the same. I am finally starting to feel more like myself again, and that is a wonderful thing.
More of the usual programming again soon ... especially as I can get up and get back to my other hobby, playing with my camera!
