I had planned by the end of July to be down 30+ pounds, have gotten my endurance up to walking 2-3 miles every other day, be well into a weight regimen, and a bunch of other stuff.
You know what plans are good for?
Looking back and seeing how wrong you can be.
My recovery is coming along, slow and steady, and on Friday, I finally gave my husband permission to make me laugh.
Well, that was a dumb idea.
Why? Because after abdominal surgery, one of the things a person has very little of is core strength. So, when we engage those muscles, which have taken a beating, it hurts like crazy. And pain is exhausting.
And you know what else? Healing, from whatever has set us back, is not linear. It's more like a drunken Spirograph with orientation issues.
Pretend that I'm stuck in the middle...
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Oh, and healing is as disobedient as a three year old who just got home from Grandma's. It is not going to listen, it will not eat its peas, and it wants ice cream in bed.
So, here I am, thinking, as usual, that *I* should be able to recover in 2-3 weeks when the surgeon said 4-6.
Uhh, no.
And another 'no'? Like, a BIG 'no'? Writing while in extreme pain and under narcotic medication.
Noooooooooope, not a chance. I tried, yes I did. But, uhh, no.
To be honest, July has be beyond lousy. I had one good week, and then 22 days of "my tummy HURTS, I can barely keep yogurt down, my hair is too heavy, and I need a nap."
Yes, I can eat normally now, but I did have a game of "projectile blueberries from space" a few days ago... that I lost.
I'm due back on keto tomorrow. I did lose a few pounds in my 3 weeks off, but that was because for 2 weeks, my diet was extremely limited. Then, of course, I gained it all back. Weirdly, I'm almost the same weight as when things went south, which is good.
But no, I am not the same shape. Three weeks of very little movement and zero long walks with the hound dog have left me feeling very wobbly. I am not happy AT ALL about this.
And no, pushing myself to exercise hard and catch up is not an option either.
Am I feeling sorry for myself?
Honestly?
Yes, I am, a bit.
But, let's count the blessings:
-My husband has been amazingly awesome. That might have something to do with seeing me lose my mind in the ER and him having to answer all the questions because the pain is so bad that I cannot speak.
But I can cry in public and not give a flying fig. Because that's a life goal. The crying, not the flying.
-It wasn't as invasive as it could've been. I'd be looking at months of recovery, not weeks.
-I don't have to worry about missing my day job. I did miss a few seriously fun things, but I don't have to deal with bosses giving me a royal guilt trip.
-I got to eat CARBS!!!
-I got to eat CARBS!!!
-I got to eat CARBS!!!
-I can go out, but yes, I need to pace myself.
I did two full days of Hockey Momming last week and was tired, but I did it!
And yes, my husband did the other three.
And yet, I took a trip today to Costco, for two things, and Walmart, for two things, and I was beat when I got home.
Like I said, not linear.
-I am grateful to be back on my feet, and back at my laptop.
No, I don't know why God allowed this.
But it's not a BIG THING. It's a somewhat annoying and painful thing. It's not life threatening, and it's not going to permanently alter my existence.
It's summer and I can enjoy things from a lawn chair in my back yard.
I'll get back to where I was, and go further.
All in God's time.
So yeah, pray that I learn some patience.