This will be a pretty raw post, because that’s where I am, so consider yourself forewarned.
Raw. Bloodied. Beaten. Wounded. Exhausted.
Another round begins… more scans, more blood work, more appointments, more follow up and more surgery.
It’s long and it’s complicated, and I am completely overwhelmed.
I saw a specialist this week who is sending me for several follow up scans. She’s the one that looked at me and said, “Because you’re at such a high risk for recurrence… blah, blah, blah….”
How do I do this?
That question runs through my mind at least 10 times a day. No make that 100 times a day.
I can’t even care for my house plants, much less all the flowers in our yard, much less start a small vegetable garden.
So how do I care for the children in my home? For my marriage? For my friendships? Without care they will suffer.
People ask me or Brian how I am, and my throwback answer is, “Mostly dead all day.” My body is not recovering like I hoped it would and life is beyond overwhelming. The fatigue, the pain; it’s not lifting. The infection in my arm sent me into a lupus flare.
Honestly, I always hesitate to write these posts. Part of it is that I’m tired of writing about it, but the other part of it is that I wonder if you’re tired of reading about it. That’s my insecurity speaking. Then I hear the voice of my friend, Monica, who reminds me that I write for me, not for others. That’s part of the healing process. My writing. The catharsis of putting into words all that I am going through, learning, seeing. Reminders of ways He is working in my life, in my pain, in my world… all which are an offering to Him.
So today turned upside down for me.
But I don’t mind.
Because I get to go home!
The doctor was in and feels like I can do the rest of my recovery at home because of how well everything is looking. I will still be on some pretty strong meds. which will limit how much I can DO, but at least I will BE with my family.
Brian is picking up Ash from school and then coming here to take me home.
We are so thankful. Still fragile, but so thankful.
That’s what our friend, Tim, accused me of when he poked his head in my hospital room yesterday, grinning, and spouting, “You did this on purpose didn’t you?” Admittedly, I had the tv on and the basketball games were playing, but trust me, I don’t plan to stay here until the April championship game!
Yes, it’s Friday and I’m still here. The redness on my rash is finally diminishing, and I’m not taking dilaudid for pain any more, just extra strength tylenol, but I am still nauseated from the antibiotics. My blood work isn’t where they want it to be, though, and I’ll see the doctor this afternoon or early evening to see where we go from here. I’d like to go home.