It's my anniversary. Two years ago today I had my colon resection. I've been thinking about what it's been like for me over the past year and came to some conclusions...which might even explain why I haven't blogged in over a month.
I still struggle with the emotional roller coaster that having a major surgery can leave someone with. My body, though healed, still does not function the way that I thought it would after recovery. No one tells you what to expect because for each person the healing process is different. Mine has been rather SLOW. I'm not sure if it's because I'm a type A personality and I expect things to happen NOW or because I haven't done enough for myself to aid in my own solid recovery. I think it's a combination of both. Either way I expected to be a bit further along than I am now.
Oh, don't get me wrong, I've made a lot of progress. Eating better, getting moderate exercise, still working on the sleeping part. However, I still don't think I've gotten to where I should be in this period of time. Just my opinion...but I do know what I think should be happening for myself.
When I was diagnosed SO MANY PEOPLE told me what they thought I should be doing. Based on their experiences (or in most cases, not) I was instructed to eat this, drink that, take this or use that. While I think that they all meant well it made me crazy! Now that I am two years out some of those same people are STILL trying to enlighten me as to what I should be doing. I have recently learned to thank them for their opinions and move on...or politely ask them to shut up.
A few weeks ago I was going through some papers, cleaning out my desk and file cabinet...an endless and thankless job...when I discovered my medical records that I placed there. What stood out to me is the dates on those papers. My diagnosis was in November and my surgery was in January. It took me a while to figure it out but then it dawned on me...the entire holiday season will never be the same for me again. I lived in fear and uncertainty during those weeks leading up to surgery. I couldn't enjoy what was going on around me because I felt like so much pressure was put on me, so many decisions I had to make and then not knowing the outcome, was more than I could bear.
Last year I felt depressed and out of sorts around mid-November for no particular reason, or so I thought. The feeling continued throughout Christmas and into the New Year but I ignored it. Mysteriously it went away by the time February rolled around. The same pattern began to happen again this past year. I could never quite put my finger on it but as soon as I saw those medical record dates it slammed me into reality. I work with patients suffering from various forms of PTSD and seasonal disorders as well as depressive episodes around significant events. It never dawned on me that the same thing could be happening to me.
This year I'll need to pre-plan the holiday season and its activities. I have a friend whose husband died on December 16th and for Christmas she and her children went to Aruba to be away from familiar surroundings. She knew what was coming up for her emotionally and planned the trip months in advance.
I discovered a lot of good things in the last year as well. While bending down to pull a chart from a shelf at work, one of the nurses noticed my port scar and grabbed my arm. Confused, I looked at her and followed her to the staff lounge where she unbuttoned her top button revealing an identical scar. "Sorry to grab you like that", she apologized,"but I've been meaning to ask you about that scar for a long time." We talked about our surgeries, hers for breast cancer 13 years ago, and how many things we have in common, like the same oncologist, Dr. G. She assured me that the healing process is slow and that you would never again be the same person you were before your cancer diagnosis.
I know that I am not alone in this journey. That's the best thing I've discovered in my recovery process. "You're a survivor too!", my nurse friend gushed.
Yeah, I am a survivor.
I still struggle with the emotional roller coaster that having a major surgery can leave someone with. My body, though healed, still does not function the way that I thought it would after recovery. No one tells you what to expect because for each person the healing process is different. Mine has been rather SLOW. I'm not sure if it's because I'm a type A personality and I expect things to happen NOW or because I haven't done enough for myself to aid in my own solid recovery. I think it's a combination of both. Either way I expected to be a bit further along than I am now.
Oh, don't get me wrong, I've made a lot of progress. Eating better, getting moderate exercise, still working on the sleeping part. However, I still don't think I've gotten to where I should be in this period of time. Just my opinion...but I do know what I think should be happening for myself.
When I was diagnosed SO MANY PEOPLE told me what they thought I should be doing. Based on their experiences (or in most cases, not) I was instructed to eat this, drink that, take this or use that. While I think that they all meant well it made me crazy! Now that I am two years out some of those same people are STILL trying to enlighten me as to what I should be doing. I have recently learned to thank them for their opinions and move on...or politely ask them to shut up.
A few weeks ago I was going through some papers, cleaning out my desk and file cabinet...an endless and thankless job...when I discovered my medical records that I placed there. What stood out to me is the dates on those papers. My diagnosis was in November and my surgery was in January. It took me a while to figure it out but then it dawned on me...the entire holiday season will never be the same for me again. I lived in fear and uncertainty during those weeks leading up to surgery. I couldn't enjoy what was going on around me because I felt like so much pressure was put on me, so many decisions I had to make and then not knowing the outcome, was more than I could bear.
Last year I felt depressed and out of sorts around mid-November for no particular reason, or so I thought. The feeling continued throughout Christmas and into the New Year but I ignored it. Mysteriously it went away by the time February rolled around. The same pattern began to happen again this past year. I could never quite put my finger on it but as soon as I saw those medical record dates it slammed me into reality. I work with patients suffering from various forms of PTSD and seasonal disorders as well as depressive episodes around significant events. It never dawned on me that the same thing could be happening to me.
This year I'll need to pre-plan the holiday season and its activities. I have a friend whose husband died on December 16th and for Christmas she and her children went to Aruba to be away from familiar surroundings. She knew what was coming up for her emotionally and planned the trip months in advance.
I know that I am not alone in this journey. That's the best thing I've discovered in my recovery process. "You're a survivor too!", my nurse friend gushed.
Yeah, I am a survivor.