Brain surgery: Recovery in Progress
Week three has come and passed, and I am still here.
It was, perhaps, even harder than the hospital stay - maybe because I’ve been awake for more of it, certainly because I had to transition off of opiates. I understand why I was given a Tylenol/Codeine combo after that surgery, and it likely got me through some pretty serious pain that would have taken too much solo Tylenol for my liver. And. Coming off of the Codeine has been challenging in a way that I wasn’t prepped for. Did you know that Codeine withdrawals can last 4-10 days, peaking around 48-72 hours? Did you know they can include digestive upset, chills, weakness, emotional instability, poor appetite, headache, etc.? Well I do, now.
I am now on day seven, and I’m feeling much more like myself. I still have upset digestion and low appetite, but I’m getting the hang of it, and it’s improving. Days 1-4 were really difficult. I didn’t recognize myself in some of those moments, which was fairly unsettling.
But here we are!
What I’ve done that helped some:
Rest - as much as I can.
Reading about withdrawal symptoms and understanding, as a result, that the things I am feeling are temporary. I can hang in there, knowing that this will not last forever.
Liquid I.V. for electrolytes, plenty of water, turmeric pills, lionsmane mushroom powder, magnesium. All supportive.
Talking to myself the way I would talk to my daughter. On the afternoon of day 2, I said to myself - out loud - that, “I love you. This is hard. You’re going to be okay. I love you. You can do this.” I said it until I managed to get up and warm up a cup of broth. It took several repetitions and a few tears. And I did it.
Alternating sweet food with other food. Like I said, my appetite is low, and I don’t want to eat much. However, there is a small interest in sweet flavors, so if I alternate bites of sweet food with anything else, I get something down. Oatmeal and smoothies are also helpful because of this.
Warm blankets and sweaters - the chills are bizarre. I sat outside in 90 degrees with a sweater on day 3. Gotta do what works.
And, of course, I have been helped by others. I’ve been brought food, loved ones have watched my little girl while I rested, a friend has cleaned my kitchen twice, I’ve been told so many supportive and kind words, other friends are planning a dang fundraiser concert for me… it’s unreal. It really is wild. The thought, “Have you earned this?” comes up often, but it’s a question that isn’t grounded in the actual reality of what love is. And I’m really working on sitting with that these days.
What else…
The thought, “Who am I now?” has been coming up, as well.
I have been looking back at photos of myself from a few years ago - backpacking trips, my solo Iceland trip, playing music in a band, etc. I’ve been thinking a lot about this version of “me” that I used to be and wondering, often, about how to connect with her again. She was adventurous and sensitive and demanding and curious. She was not always my best self, and yet, I love her so very much. I love her, I miss her. Early motherhood had already separated us for a little bit, but this event has really made her feel far away. And the emotional whirlwind of all of this has made the current Me feel strange and unpredictable. So I suppose I am searching.
Yesterday evening was good. I went for a walk with my partner and baby, and we went for over a mile. Over a mile! Then we came home, fed baby girl dinner while I drank a smoothie, and then let her bounce in her doorway swing while I chose music to play. I decided on Nickel Creek, and the first song of theirs that played was Destination. And then came the tears.
July of 2016, I listened to that album - A Dotted Line - on repeat as I drove solo out to Colorado to meet my brand new partner at his field camp. I was stopping at the Great Sand Dunes first to do a solo overnight and I can still remember the odd drive to what honestly looked like a giant sandbox. I remember speaking to the ranger (who I knew, actually) about the forecast, how I might have to sit on my backpack in my tent if a storm came through (to avoid lightning), and where find a good campsite in the aforementioned sand. I remember sitting in the diner, eating a burrito, while waiting for it to get late enough in the afternoon for cooler temperatures. And I remember setting out, late in the day, with intention.
Well, I got to a spot eventually, but the wind had picked up, the storm clouds were rolling in, setting my tent up was impossible, my shoes were full of sand, bugs were crawling up my legs, and I was having a straight up bad time.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I asked myself, aloud, laughing. “Fuck this!” I declared, packing all of my things up again and walking the entire way back. I made it back to my car after sunset, shoved my crap in the back, and started driving. I drove all the way to Durango (playing A Dotted Line) and booked a motel room. The shower was exquisite.
As the song played last night, all of that came rushing back to me. Here I was, watching my daughter laugh and bounce in our living room as her father - that same new partner I drove out to meet - bounced along with her while he warmed up his dinner. Here I was, having survived brain surgery, having birthed a child with a man I adore, listening to the same music as that version of me who decided life can be absolutely whatever I choose, if I’m brave and defiant enough.
So the tears came. Overjoyed, grateful, hopeful tears. In that moment, after a really hard week, I felt such wonder at being alive. I’m still here, watching my loves laugh and dance, remembering when I got to be a solo backpacker in a sandy desert and then drive through Colorado mountains to get to the man I’d fallen in love with and would later have a baby with.
??? What is that? Is that really mine? Holy shit! Life! Fucking gorgeous.
So that’s how I’m doing, more or less. I had a few really difficult days and will very likely have more. I have been dearly loved and have been trying to wrap my head around that. I have been in nostalgic bliss. I drink a lot of smoothies.
Life is all right.
On we go.
