The newborn life chose me. I am squarely in the recovery stage where all I do is sleep, eat, hydrate, drink protein shakes, and go for walks. Rest is not easy for me. I like a project. I like a goal. I like a plan. I like to feel productive. I also know that rest is critical for a full recovery.
No matter how much I sleep, I’m still tired when I wake up. So, I’m taking it easy and trying to sleep as much as possible. I bought a zero gravity chair to help elevate my legs without putting pressure on my hips and back. I’m in love with this thing. I wrap myself up in a blanket, pop on an eye mask, jam my favorite pillow behind me, and it’s the equivalent of being swaddled.
On Tuesday afternoon, I have a virtual check-in with my amazing nurse. Since my incisions are healing quickly (that hyperbaric oxygen chamber is amazing), I removed all the steri strips that were covering them. I also checked for pieces of the sutures that haven’t dissolved. For most people, the stitches dissolve on their own after a few weeks. As I have demonstrated on numerous occasions, I’m not most people. So, I ended up having to remove a few pieces that pushed their way out of the incisions. That was not fun at all, but my mom and I survived that 90 minute endeavor with no yelling and minimal tears. I consider that a victory.
I also needed to take pictures to send to the doctor. Somehow that was harder than retrieving the non-dissolved dissolvable sutures. Some areas of my legs are remarkably swollen and look bigger than they did before surgery. Logically, I know the swelling is normal and it will get worse before it gets better. It’s still a tough pill to swallow. It doesn’t help that other parts of my legs are smaller than they were before. There’s some saggy skin thanks to weight loss and the removal of these nodules. I still need another surgery on the backs of my legs, and will likely need a thigh lift to remove the excess skin when this is all said and done. To think all this work, pain, expense, and struggle to still end up looking like a popped can of biscuits when I’m sans compression…that’s a tough thing.
This is where I have to remind myself that for the last two weeks, I’ve hit 10k+ steps a day for 10 days and 6k+ steps for 3 days. I was a slacker on surgery day and only hit a few thousand steps, but I also didn’t have my watch on. Also, I was knocked out for 6 hours. So, there’s that. I can’t remember the last time I did that and didn’t pay for it.
Back in May, I spent a week in Istanbul. I walked all over the city, and everything felt like it was uphill both ways. On numerous occasions, I’d cut my excursions short and would Uber back to the hotel because I couldn’t drag these heavy legs across the city any more. I’d lie on the bed with my legs propped up straight against the wall because that was the fastest way to reduce the swelling and to give me some relief. After an hour or so, I’d go back out and would drag myself around because when will I have the chance to be back in this beautiful city again? My last night there, I was walking to this restaurant known for its stunning rooftop sunset views. After a day of being on my feet with only one short break to elevate my legs, I kept pushing myself and ended up falling in the middle of the street. I was walking, everything was fine, and then it wasn’t. My knee gave out from the weight of these nodules, and I collapsed as I was crossing the street. Thankfully, I only ended up with some minor scrapes, but my ego took quite a hit. I turned around and walked back to the hotel. I washed up, took some ibuprofen, put my feet up, ugly cried, and ended up at a rooftop cafe across the street from my hotel for dinner and a sunset.
Yes, I’ve walked this many steps in recent months, but they’ve not been pain-free or without incident. So, maybe I give myself a pass on these swollen yet saggy legs? Maybe I focus instead on two weeks of being relatively pain free? Or the fact that I’m genuinely smiling in every picture because my joy and relief can’t be contained? Or I focus on the fact that I’m getting back to my usual sarcastic yet happy self because my demeanor and mood aren’t dictated by relentless pain 24/7? Or the fact that this body I’m so critical of is absolutely amazing and is healing so remarkably well despite decades of abuse and mistreatment? Any one of those things is infinitely more important than tight, toned legs.
The emotional healing that has to happen is so overwhelming compared to the physical. I have specific instructions to follow for the physical stuff … walk, hydrate, protein, eat well. The emotional stuff is much less structured and if I’m honest, there’s much more work to do there. All I can do is keep trying, keep moving forward, and be gentle with myself.
The LipeDiva 