Too Much Medicine!

“Do you have a fever?

Is there pus coming out?

Is there swelling?

Do you have a lump?”

These are the questions my surgeon phoned to ask when he read that I was on “two very strong antibiotics.” The last thing you want is to pass an oral infection into the blood stream via the breathing tube when intubating.

Thankfully, the risk was deemed low and here I am, trying to recover. He expects me to be in significant pain. What he did was virtually pioneering. And he did not implant mesh. Hallelujah! I have been sewn up extensively and made the poor surgeon think on his feet. Hey, if my life is never boring, why should the lives of those treating me be!?

Caring hugs in the form of, “How are you now?”

Tiny hand in mine, walking me ever so slowly as if she knows I’m not ok. Watching me to see if I’ll kneel when we pray. Eyes wide open as she worries over her non-kneeling mom. My precious two year old.

My worried seven year old who was miserable while I was gone. Stroking me so often now that I’m back, telling me she prayed for me. Scared I’ll die in my sleep.

It’s going to be a long time before I’m normal. Many stitches. Pain. Pain. Pain. Taking off the abdominal binder to change dressings or shower leaves me moaning in pain. It’s as if my entire stomach constants will burst open as the muscles tear apart where they were sewn together in front and on the sides.

Sleeping, sitting, lying bent over 24/7 is not fun. Wearing a thick hot binder that creases under your bent back is not fun. Not being able to get out and into the recliner (Yes, not bed) is not fun.

But I know, this too shall pass.

And I’m also glad in a way. All the concerns I had about previous scarring are real. Those scars were bad. But people in a group I’m in took it lightly. Maybe photos don’t show it much? Though a friend definitely saw how bad it was. They want to treat me aggressively. Needling was mentioned. I’m kinda terrified ! Just removing the drains and dressings was horrific. Doing it here at home too makes me wish I was put under for each dressing change.

But as a friend said via text, “Sending gentle hugs, Thandi,” and I feel them through my phone.

This too shall pass. One day, these months of recovery will feel like but a blink in time.

Breathe.

Oh, my title. The antibiotics are killing my stomach. I have nausea now. And the painkillers are causing the opposite of a runny tummy while the antibiotics are trying to do the opposite of the opposite of a runny tummy. I feel sick just trying to swallow ONE tablet and I can’t eat a full meal yet. Swallows the tablets is meal enough for my stomach. I’m sitting here terrified of vomiting. I don’t want to undo all the stitching. I’m also on two glasses of movicol a day. That also does NOT help reduce nausea. Im not ok, ladies. It’s one thing to be all yucky and in pain from the actual surgery. But when internally your system is broken from medication, it’s another load of misery on very small shoulders. And I mean that seriously. Every tailor tells me my body is narrow and small. 😆

This too shall pass.

Let it pass quickly.

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