Getting better

Every time I click on my blog, and see the header, I smile.
I love that quote, that someone (one of YOU) emailed to me.  I loved it so much, I put it up there, and I am touched with it each and every time I read it.
Though I must add, that right now, my life is not very wild, but ah, it is 'oh, so precious'.

Let me tell you about my 'recovery'.
The first week, I didn't move around much.  It hurt so bad.  What on earth did they do to me for 6 hours?  Good God.
When someone called me, and asked if the headache was gone, I could only smile weakly, and mumble, "uh, not really."
Apparently, routing out the monster was tough work, and the aftermath isn't easy.  The headache I have now, is different, it moves around, it comes and goes, it is more post traumatic, than evil demon.
They say I will have headaches for weeks, before finally, everything settles.
My neck is stiff, it feels like someone has poured cement down the back of my neck.   I can turn side to side, a bit more than I expected.  But if I want to look at the stars, I will have to pretend I am 9, and lie down in the grass.  I will start Physical Therapy at 4-6 weeks post op, and will probably be doing it for months.
Looking down in front of me is impossible.  Eating is an event.   I pull a regular chair up to the island in the kitchen, so that my plate is nearer my face.  Otherwise, eating is too painful.

And my jaw has been impacted, somehow.  I can't open my mouth wide enough for some things, and chewing makes my jaws so tired, I have to take breaks.  Or eat less. Jello, mashed potatoes, soup, ice cream........oh, how sweet.  A sandwich is a job.  I eat it, but it takes longer.  Forced, finally in life, to eat slowly, savor every mouthful.  Ironic, it seems.

 I am 10 lbs lighter than when I started this journey.  Helluva diet, though.  I do not recommend it.

The back of my head is still on fire, so ice packs are my friends.  Sometimes, there is no pillow soft enough to lay my head down.  That's tough.  I swapped out the Percocet for Tylenol, and the Valium for Flexeril, as soon as I got home.  I am anti narcotic drugs.  I opted for more pain, and less feeling like a zombie.
Every day, I nap.  ME..........a NO NAPPER EVER.
Yes, it's true.  Sometimes a half an hour, sometimes an hour, but I fall asleep like I haven't slept for a day.
Every day, I walk, no, not alone.  At first it was 4 houses down the street and 4 houses back, then to the end of the street, and then around the block, and then around two blocks.
And then, DH drove me to the bike bath, and we walked along the river.  Sweet Roy looked up at me, as if to say, "are we normal yet?"

I have been to the studio twice, since the 27th of August.   The first time, I did too much.  I was only there for two hours, but I didn't stop to rest my head and neck.  I paid for it with neck spasms and more pain.  Stayed home the next two days.  Yesterday I went back, for two hours more, only this time, I took the pillow that L offered.  I made myself comfortable, and sat.  It was better.  And just being there made me feel hopeful.  Positive.  Myself.

I have not driven yet.  I probably could.  The truth is I am hesitant.  Almost ready.  I am listening.
I read a lot.

I am beginning to slowly realize, how impacted I was by HH, or "the monster" over the last 11 months.
I didn't know.  Much, I imagine, like any depressed person doesn't realize that they are depressed.  They "tell" themselves that everyone is full of baloney, 'imagining' it.

I look back now, and know that the anguish, the frustration, and yes, the depression, was inching up on me so deviously, that I really didn't know that it was there.  I only knew that something was SO wrong.  But like having your nose up to the glass, you can't really see.

I do know that towards the end, for at least a month, maybe more, I cried all the time.  Anything, and everything, brought me to tears. It was like a fountain of never ending tears.  But it never helped.

I also realized that the cough I woke up with every morning for the last 10 months, was gone.  I wonder, how many ways did the increased pressure in my brain affect me, that I wasn't even aware of.

I apologized to DH the other day, in Hannaford.  It was my first grocery shopping experience since the surgery, but wearing the rigid collar on all outings, prevented me from seeing things on the bottom shelves.  He was helping me, grabbing things as I directed.
While I am not tearful of late, suddenly I was, and  I took his arm, and said, "I am so sorry for how mean I have been to you sometimes, over the last several months."
I didn't know I was going to say that.  It just came out. It was the truth.  I have at times been short, and bitchy.   He has tried to to understand, and he has put up with me.

He hugged me then, right in front of the stacks of tuna.   We just stood there, hugging, two older people, realizing many things, and grateful for them all.
We must have been a sight, but honestly, it was the best hug I have had in a while.

I think that's when I let go of the monster, for real.