September 16, 2015
I want to thank everyone who took the time to send me best wishes over the last two weeks. I was completely overwhelmed by so many prayers on my behalf. Thank you all very much.
As you know, I was scheduled for the removal of my gallbladder on Friday, September 4th. I was very hopeful that I would receive the laparoscopic procedure and not what they call the “full surgical” one.
I was very fortunate, because that is exactly what happened. It was 9:45am when I was wheeled into the operating room, and it was approaching 1 pm when I was wheeled out to the car.
My beloved had previously booked the week after my surgery as his September “staycation”. I know that the week he ended up with was not the one he’d hoped for. He had planned to just be home but had thought we might take a day trip or two. That of course didn’t happen. He managed to do a lot of reading, and he “binged watched” a couple of historical television dramas. He and his daughter attended a local annual village-wide yard sale. He stayed up late and slept in late—in other words, he rested. That’s what a staycation is for.
I had shopped before my surgery, loading up on various frozen entrees for the duration, as David doesn’t like to cook at all. Unfortunately the first few days the temperatures were way too high to have the oven on. So one night we had one of the entrees done in the microwave, and then we made do with sandwiches. And since I didn’t have much of an appetite that was fine by me.
Although I was lucky to end up receiving the laparoscopic procedure, this entire adventure has not been smooth sailing. One thing that went exactly as hoped, I received my edit just a few days after my surgery. I was able to get the work done, spending an hour and a half at a time behind the keyboard.
I was determined to meet my professional obligations—but I was also determined to do exactly what I was told to do in order to heal. I spent most of my time either in my lounger or in my bed. I rested. I napped. On day 6 post-op, my main incision site, the one called the umbilical site, hurt more than the day before, not less. I was afraid it might be infected—but no one else seemed to think so. Over the weekend, of course, it became clear that it was infected. I got antibiotics, and was told to contact my surgeon on Monday, which I did.
I won’t go into the gory details. Suffice it to say I now understand about having an incision reopened, drained, and then packed. I’ve also added a trip into the city next door to my agenda every day for the next while, at least, to a nursing office where my bandage is changed daily.
Though I have work I need to do, I am taking a few more days to rest. Monday night, after seeing the surgeon, was the first decent sleep I’d had since the Thursday before.
I realize that many people deal with far worse things than what I am going through, and I really try not to think about it too much. It’s only temporary, after all. In a month or two these last couple of weeks will all be just a memory.
I’ve even decided there’s value to still not having much of an appetite. Maybe when I go for my regular check up in November, I’ll have lost another 10 pounds.
It’ll be a hard-won loss, but I’ll take it.