Outside of having my wisdom teeth pulled, I've never had surgery. This was a pretty big one to start with. I mean, they cut my bone and rearranged me. Recovery has been fine. Exhausting. Sometimes challenging, but, honestly, it's been pretty smooth.
Some milestones: I got the post-surgery bandages/splint off last week and got a new splint. (This is splint number four for anyone counting.) I met with my doctor this morning and received permission to go back to work. I saw my tattoos without the bandaids today, and my doctor/surgeon did an amazing job in lining them back up--they look great, honestly. This made me so very happy. I really like my ortho and this makes me like him even more.
I've been given permission to go back to the gym with restrictions on what I can do. My doctor reassured me that I'll can get back to my heavy lifting weight (220lb deadlifts), but I need to be patient. But he understood why I needed to get back: I began working with a trainer after I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis in my knees. It has made such a huge difference in my life, both for my personal health and in how I see and carry myself. I don't want to backslide.
The first week-plus of recovery was exhausting. literally. Any prolonged activity and I would fall asleep for an hour-plus. One afternoon I went for a walk around my complex and fell asleep as soon as I sat down. Last Thursday I met with my hand therapist. I slept for probably two hours that afternoon.
The next day I met a friend for coffee/lunch, had my septum ring put back in, and went to my library's holiday party. I figured I would sleep all day Saturday. I was tired, and napped a bit, but not like I had earlier in the week. By Sunday I began cleaning my condo from top to bottom simply because I needed to move.
Several months ago I met with my hand therapist to see if there were any other things that could be done in the physical therapy realm before I met with my doctor to talk about next steps/surgery (there weren't). When we met, she said before making a decision about surgery, I needed to make sure I was ready--physically and mentally--for the recovery.
Physically, I was prepared. I'm pretty strong, so I wasn't too concerned. Mentally, I knew I had to get there. I knew there were some things I would have to come to terms with, like taking a setback in some of my weight lifting goals (deadlift 250 lbs) I knew I was ready when I broke down in tears one Saturday because I hurt, and I was tired of hurting.
But there's another mental part of recovery I wasn't prepared for: relying on others. I am super independent. Fiercely independent. I don't like relying on others for anything. And I knew surgery would mean I'd have to ask for help. I knew I needed to come up with a recovery/care plan for food, rides to doctor's/hand therapy appointments, and other stuff (like hair washing). But asking for help? That would be damn hard.
When you need help like this, you realize who your friends are. Not just those who step up to help, but those who ask about you, email you, and simply check in on you. It's been humbling, honestly. But it also means relying on others in a way that can put you in a vulnerable place.
Several friends signed up to bring me dinner on different nights. I was able to cook some nights, and I appreciated that because it gave me some control. But two nights in a row, people forgot food deliveries. The first time it was a good friend of mine, and when she realized it, she apologized several days in a row and wanted to know what she could do to make me forgive her. Come hang out with me later in the week, I told her. And she did. And it was so nice since I'd been stuck at home for more than a week. And she was convinced that the hard cider (I was done with the pain meds) and girl talk made the next few days easier. She may not be wrong. The other person didn't realize it or at least didn't acknowledge it for several days.
But more than anything, the worst part was feeling like I had been forgotten. And when you are fiercely independent, not used to relying on others, and being in a position where you really can't leave your home (due to heavy pain killers), feeling forgotten is a really tough place to be.
After that, I knew I needed to figure out how to take care of myself, like I normally would, but also welcome and allow others to help. It's a weird balance, and it was more of a mental adjustment than it was physical. I learned to ask when I needed help, but pushed myself to do thing for myself, by myself.
Essentially, I learned that surgical recovery--any type of recovery, actually--is as much of an emotional and mental recovery as it is physical. It's one thing to know that intellectually, it's another to embrace it.
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