Eight Weeks Since My Surgery And All Is … Well…

It’s been eight weeks since my surgery. I’m cranky and I have a litany of woes. For example, taking a shower hurts my skin. My knee buckles randomly and unexpectedly. My balance sucks. I’m still numb in my entire left leg, my right underarm, and across my upper back. (It dawned on me yesterday that list comprises half my stupid body.) I don’t know if I should be doing something I’m not, or stop doing something I am. I have very little core strength. And yesterday I realized I could rest my finger in the indentation of my incision and feel the upward splay of my back on either side. It feels like the Sydney Opera House back there.

Shall I go on?

I feel weak, flabby, confused, frustrated, and pissed off. And I’m tired of feeling weak, flabby, confused, frustrated, and pissed off.

But before anyone gets twitchy with the platitudes, yes, I know how lucky I am. I can drive. I can type. I can walk, talk, squawk, doubletalk, and jaywalk around the clock while I listen to Johann-freakin-Bach, but I can’t clip my toenails.

And, yes, I know it’s only been two months “and these things take time” so I should have patience. But I don’t. Not one thing has changed in the last couple of weeks. Except maybe my optimism.

So if you feel the urge to remind me that I’m lucky or that I should just be patient, well … don’t. Just don’t. It’s not helpful and makes me go all spider monkey. And if you do, I will be forced to creep through the cover of darkness and stab you repeatedly in that well-meaning place where your wisdom, compassion, and common sense resides. Repeatedly.

And I simply don’t have the energy.

Instead, tell me, you know, something else. And while you’re considering your comment, please enjoy these exquisite demotivational posters from Despair.com that seem appropriate today.

3 thoughts on “Eight Weeks Since My Surgery And All Is … Well…”

  1. I love the demotivational posters. They’re uber funny because, like my daughter would say, they’re true. My favourites are: retirement, worth, teams, and meetings. Probably because they describe my life with the precision of a sniper. The Dilbert of posters.

  2. Becky, I remember getting a tumor diagnosed and when I asked the doc what caused it, he said rather blithely, “Bad luck.” Argh! And furthermore, WTH? That’s just to say, I won’t regale you with platitudes about being lucky. Just want to reiterate that you’re AWESOME, and it’s uber awesome that you can write about this in your inimitable humorous style. Love, love, and more love to you.

  3. Marilyn McNalley

    The demotivational posters are right up my alley, as in my lifelong sense of humor. Not everyone appreciates this except those on the same page! You know what I mean. As my grandson says, (darn it all, now I can’t remember it exactly).
    Anyway it reflects on the old adage that if you didn’t have bad luck you’d have no luck at all. And that comic guy who says if anything bad could happen, it will. It’s off that last one I think. But I think it may combine with the first. But he (my 1st grandson) names our family in it. Whatever. Sorry.
    Anyway, I, too, have had spinal surgery (mine=fushion) and I won’t tell you when because, as they say, first do no harm. I do hope you heal as fast as possible with the least amount of pain possible. But I still can’t tie my shoes (get the elastic shoelaces so you can just slip them on) and use plyers to pull up the tongue (yes!) along with an assistance sock putter-oner thingy. You slip the sock on the end of the 3 prong form and then slide your foot into the resulting V and pull up on the straps. Make sure you don’t pull the sock up over the top of the 3 prong thingy because you won’t be able to pull the contraption out of the sock and may wind up smacking yourself in the face trying (like I did).
    As for your mention of “oma” I empathize. January 2017 I was diagnosed with mammary carcinoma, had 2 surgeries and radiation. Chemo wouldn’t have done much to prolong things and I was told I was actually in a good spot. I chose not to tell other than close family (son and sister, plus an “extended family” but very close friend). Anyway, I also dislike hearing all the platitudes including the sympathy as if I only have until tomorrow or something. I’ll leave it at that.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.