I have been hesitant to write about the meeting with the neurosurgeon. After various tests and reviewing my MRI, it is inevitable that I need surgery. My body has compromised for a while now, but we've reached a point in which there is just no room for the nerve to run through and the longer we wait, the less chance I have of getting full function back to my left leg. It's rough, but necessary. I will spare you the gross (yet amazing) details of the surgery. Surgery is scheduled for Tuesday. The count down has begun and I have 5 days to squeeze the most out of life and kids before going to the hospital.
The longer I have foot drop and weakness in my leg, the more I realize that my body is not going to overcome this on it's own. Even with all the exercises and therapy, my leg is not getting any stronger. In fact, I have periods of weakness in which I lose my balance, almost falling. It has been difficult for me, watching my body go from a healthy and strong one, to a body that initially after the accident, couldn't walk without assistance. I was extremely lucky to visit old roommates just a few days after my first steroid injection in my back. Pictures of us smiling where posted on Facebook. What wasn't seen though was me in a wheelchair, being pushed around Pike's Market by my friends. It feels equally humbling and humiliating. I am humbled that some of my closest friends, friends that have watched me struggle and soar, are there when I am unable to walk. What is difficult is being on a level in which you are ignored yet stared at. A level in which you see and understand what is going on around you yet can't fully take part in it. You are not a child, but on the same level as one. I am in a middle ground of life and I am not fully sure how I got here.
Usually I am always moving, always doing. Truthfully, I don't often like to sit still. I love to have plans. I love to move my body and I usually move fast. I think it's the East Coast in me. These past 6 weeks have felt like time has moved so slow. Daily I have pain, discomfort, and weakness. My life has scaled back tremendously in which I go from home to therapy, and not much more. For a month, friends and family surrounded us with love and provided meals, cleaned my house, did our laundry and loved on our kids. For a month, I was not alone yet I feel lonely. My life feels as if time is moving slowly, revolving around my back, yet everyone else is moving 10 times faster and I can't be apart of it. I miss being apart of something and being with people. Not just around them, but laughing and connecting with people.
At times, I have asked my husband if something else is wrong with me. As of lately, I have admitted to him, that when meeting someone new, I am unable to process what they are saying. I find that nurses and some doctors talk fast and like to joke, but I am unable to take in what they are saying. Normally, I love to joke and laugh. My husband says I have middle school humor. A good fart joke goes a long way with me. Maybe that's why God gave me 2 boys. Lately, I can't keep up with humor. I can't even take in normal conversations at times and it make me feel even more isolated. In my head, the person in front of me is talking, I just can't understand. It's as if they are speaking a foreign language and I'd love to participate, so I mainly shake my head yes with a few "yeahs" and "oks" thrown in, faking it and hoping I can catch something I understand soon.
The most troublesome thing to me isn't the surgery, but the recovery. No lifting, bending, blah, blah, blah for a few months. I will follow the doctor's orders, but wow, are there a lot of restrictions. I mostly get sad thinking about the next few months. I will continue to be on the outside, unable to participate in life events. I know this is for my body to heal and new bone to form. I just get sad because it means not rocking my daughter to sleep. It means not playing soccer with the kids this season. It means elevated toilet seats with handles. You know your husband loves you when he buys you one of those, a grabber, and is considering a walker. My middle school mind goes crazy with stupid jokes about all my new "tools of recovery".
I have been thinking a lot about our needs. When you can do little for yourself and your family, your needs are great. I think as of now, besides prayer, I think what I need most is a friend. I appreciate all the meals and childcare. Don't get me wrong. We couldn't do it without our friends helping us with daily life, but what I need is someone to not just ask how my back is doing, but how I am doing. I need a hug. You won't break me. I need a good laugh (and sometimes a cry). I know it could be worse. I know this is little compared to cancer or MS, but it has rocked our world. I am trying to look at it as a transformation period full of growth and discovery. A time in which I can't continue with one of my biggest joys, running, but must dive into new passions and try new things. We will see where this road leads. Will you walk with me?
1 comment:
Sarah, I am so sorry you are in this place. Your openness and honesty about your needs are brave and challenge me. Thank you for taking the time to share it so clearly. I recently read a book that I highly recommend to read during your forced 'down' times. The Hardest Peace was written by a young wife and mother, Kara Tippetts, about her cancer struggle and her relationship with God through it. She is very clear that cancer was her Hard and that we all have our own Hard to struggle with. She also had a blog called Mundane Faithfulness that is worth reading. She lost her battle with cancer a few weeks ago but others are continuing the blog. Both the book and the blog are so encouraging, I think mostly because she was open, honest and transparent with all she was living. Your blog reminded me of that about Kara. I will be praying for you, Rob and the kids on Tuesday and through your recovery. Karen Grothe
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