Hello from the Other Side

I've been debating how and when to write a post here; don't want to put out an official good report only to rescind it a few days later and otherwise it's genuinely hard to know where to begin--time to deploy the bulleted list!

• I am home.  Arrived the Sunday afternoon after, having discharged out of the hospital last Saturday and driven to a halfway point in the Wisconsin Dells to break up the trip.  The first night out of the hospital always makes me question why I left the hospital--after the first day after surgery, it is easily the next worse; this was at least better without the stress of seven hours of driving.
• Still congratulating myself on my foresight in renting an electric lift recliner for a month.  Makes getting up much easier when that transition is tricky.  One of my favorite things to do right now is to stare at Andy with a fixed, crazed smile while rising up.  
• The surgery went better than anticipated.  We had gone in with the plan to leave as much colon as possible, and it turned out that most of it was healthy enough that they only needed to take out the last bit, which means I approximate that I have lost about two feet of my colon, collectively.  
• Since I was doing so well after surgery, we rearranged the care structure a bit, and it was just Andy and I for the first week.  I would say for him it was almost a stay-cation:  yes, he was helping me in a number of ways, but we also just had some quality time together.
• Been trying to come up with a snappy reply if I am in a situation where someone calls me an asshole, maybe along the lines of how I can't be because I had mine removed.  Haven't landed on anything there yet.  
• Still doing very well, especially with the context we had coming into it.  This is the healthiest that I've been going into a surgery in a long time, and all that preparation really did pay off.  
• We're trying to establish what the new normal is going to be.  
• Rather than languishing in recovery, I instead have to remember to not overdo anything.  My, it is strange.  
• The bruises on my arms are starting to fade, finally.  In the hospital, to reduce the chances of blood clots, I received two shots of heprin every day, into the back of my arms.  After a few days in the hospital, the backs of my arms were solid shades of purple.  
• Since I am more prone to dehydration with less colon, I need to keep a close eye on what empties out into my bag.  Preempting a loose stool day, I asked my mother to buy me some marshmallows, since historically these have helped in the past.  My mother bought both a regular bag of marshmallows and one that was candy corn flavored and shaped.  As Andy has an amusing dislike of candy corn, he had a thing or two to say about them.  A few days later, I asked him to pass me the atrocity marshmallows, and he knew exactly what I was talking about.
• Sang a bit in church the other day and noticed how my stomach muscles really are involved in singing:  on the one hand, yay that I was using right-ish form; on the other hand, ow ow ow ow ow.
• As I attempt to structure days now that encourage something that strikes a balance between activity enough to stave off boredom but not so much activity as to be overwhelming at set me back, most of what I look for now is some flavor of human contact for at least a little time every day.  
• I'm back to a general diet now, the first two weeks eliminating all fresh fruits and vegetables.  Not ready to try eating a salad yet, necessarily, but it's nice to incorporate a good variety of whatever for now, at least before I switch back into my ketogenic diet again. 
• With how the surgery went, I was brought back from recovery around three in the afternoon, I'm told, but I genuinely don't remember anything until around seven, seven-thirty that evening.  Lots and lots of sleeping.  Don't mind a bit of Versed, the medication that keeps you from forming new memories, from time to time.  The last thing I remembered was around maybe 0830 or 0900, when they were prepping me for a spinal injection to help mitigate the post surgery pain, not even the shot itself.  
• At this point, probably the most encouraging sign that things are going well is that I am already off of hard drugs, switching to regular, over-the-counter acetaminophen.  I still feel as though I'm pushing my luck by writing that.
• Still have those moments from time to time where I wonder how many things I have done for the last time.  I don't think the list will be as long as I suspect, but more in the vein of doing X without worrying about Melvin.  
• I had one surgical drain placed.  And I am pleased to say that this was taken out before we left.  I am still a little annoyed at the resident that took it out, because he assured me it would be fine in such a way that I believe he has taken these out several times but has never experienced one himself.  That sucker was deceptively long and decidedly uncomfortable to just pull out.  However, I am more pleased that I didn't have to worry about carrying for it at home or finding a local radiologist that worked with my insurance, etc.  
• I was able to graduate quickly to unassisted showers without the shower chair.  Trust me when I say that this is a luxury that most take for granted.
• On the trip coming home, there were a couple of ladies at the Wendy's we stopped at who came separately to my table while I was waiting for the rest of my crew to order and return to ask me if I was okay/needed help.  I was about four days post-op at that point and told them so, thanking them for their concern, but I must have looked like hell.
• The nurses and staff did very much appreciate the Pin the Bag on the Ostomy game.  Yes, we definitely brought it with us.  
• They DID try to give me the wrong antibiotic at first.  However, one of the plastic surgeon fellows was in the room at the moment, and not only did he see my expression but he had also heard one of my tirades about said medication.  As a result, he jumped in immediately, saying that we would get it switched and I would not be taking it.  I was grateful, and at the same time the wind had been taken out of my sails a bit, because I have that fight perfected in my head.
• I know people say and do weird things coming off of anesthesia, and I have a small fear that I will do or say something hurtful.  According to my family, all I did this time was make some faces and ask the same questions a few times.  

I am not sure how many times I have come back in, edited or added on bullet point, and left the screen.  Even with components going well, there's still a lot to process yet.  And at this point, what I have to report is good news, so why question it further?  In the future, I'm sure I'll have more to say about life with Melvin as we all make our adjustments to one another.  There will more to say, too, about the experience itself and how wonderfully supportive a great number of you have been throughout the process.  For now, however, this small dump of things is a part of how I need to reestablish this habit, as I work toward reestablishing all else again.  

Our sincere thanks to all of you, and our very real affection to you as well.  

Last One Before Surgery

I'm not sure how to form something cohesive at this point, so I think it's time for a bulleted list of various thoughts.

• Pulling something out of my ass in the will now be a real feat for me or otherwise stress how the answer literally came from nowhere.
• There have been enough comments about my new hair cut that I have started to wonder if my old one was that bad.  Not really, just playfully.
• Chicago Blackhawks v Minnesota Wild!  Would you believe tickets were a lot cheaper at the Xcel Ice Center than they were for the United Center?  Had to enjoy some poutine. 
• I have rehearsed and recited a couple of important statements to make sure that I tell my doctor regarding my care, one of which is about a medication that I will not be taking because A) my body doesn't react to it well and B) at this point I've had so many arguments about this particular medication that it's a place where I enforce my patient's rights on principle; I will not be talked into something I do not want.
• I had a friend with me for my last work onsite.  Our mutual brainmelt is captured in the following quote from supper:  "I am the master of my own bread!"
• ALSO the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile was at the hotel just next door to ours on that onsite and made me far happier than it should have.
• When I look in the mirror, I feel pretty good about myself.  I wonder how long it will take to feel that again.
• Had the opportunity to see a work buddy that I talk to online all the time in person, since we made a stop in St. Paul--shout-out to Max and Chris!
• I will not miss how my butt hurts, strategizing how to sit, and how it can go from okay to not okay in a short period of time. Looking forward to having some of that freedom back, freedom from pain ultimately.
• Picked up a new hat!
• Have officially reached the point, pretty much as soon as I got in the car, where I knew I had done everything that I can at this point. It's time to ride it out. I have been proactive. I have covered my bases. I recognize that the rest is out of my control, and there is peace in that. I can tell you with some degree of certainty exactly when I will be anxious on surgery day, but I am mostly okay leading up to it.
• At the Mall of America, fit the four of us onto the Fairly Odd Coaster and had a blast. Loved watching Andy's eyes go wide when we went into a blind drop. 
• Our first appointment with the surgeon went well.  Normally appointments with this doctor feel really rushed, as though everyone is perpetually running late, but we addressed all of our questions, and I left feeling heard, which was most important to me at this point.  I will also be his only case that day, since it has the potential to go long, depending on the state of everything once they're inside.  
• We're reading Guards! Guards! to each other on the drive. I would say Terry Pratchett was a great choice. Andy and I adore Errol.  
• Fulfilling a few of our traditions has been fun as usual, including some sushi and out to see a movie.  This year's choice:  Thor:  Ragnarok.  And it was a treat.
• Day before surgery involved a clear liquids diet.  This equates to cranky Larissa, and I reserve the right to be cranky while going through this prep process.  A whole friggin' bottle of Miralax, for starters.  Ugh.
• Have a spot on my belly marked where the ostomy nurse feels would be my best spot for the new ostomy, based on how my body creases naturally.  A blue dot placed ominously and innocently on my abdomen.
• I will also have a couple of surgical drains on the way out.  Not my favorite thing.  There's a bulb attached to a tube that goes into the potential abscess site.  This tube is stitched in place and keeps suction on the area, keeping gunk out and helping prevent infection.  This means for a time I will be scared of doorknobs, since this is less than fun to get caught on one.  
• There are a lot of variables that we just won't understand until we're on the other side, so at least at this point I'm content to wait on most of my questions--no sense in worrying about some things until we have a better idea of the state of them.  This means I feel oddly collected.  There are still points where I take a breath, "there is fear," and breathe out.  
• Entourage and support from home has been fantastic.  Thank you all for your kind words and warm thoughts.  

 And otherwise, well, I'll have more to say again soon. Surgery check-in time is officially 0600, which means the surgery is probably around 0730 or 0800.  Looking forward to seeing you all on the other side, my friends.

Excuse me while I go Cry in the Corner

We're getting into single digits, here, folks.  And I'm not going to lie--I'm wigging out a little bit.  I had been planning how I was going to start packing in increments over the week, breaking it into small, chewable pieces, and then work scheduled me for one final trip, all the way up to the day before we leave.  I quickly put all of those plans in the garbage and started up some new lists. 

On the one hand, I'm very frustrated at having to reschedule my packing plans.  When Andy and I went to spend Labor Day weekend with some of my buddies from Knox--the weekend itself was lovely, but I was also so angry that I had to re-plan all of my energy budgeting and all the logistics that I had carefully considered when our flight plans fell through.  I kept saying something along the lines of "if I had known we would end up driving, I would have packed differently," unable to let that resentment go, even as spending time with these people was a balm to my heart.  Schedule changes to me can remind me how truly out of control I am over my own body because of all of that back-planning that I need to do.  I was anxious, hurting, and frustrated.  This time, though, at least I had a week and a half worth of notice to rearrange things which is a lot and very little time in the same breath, however, I am more sensitive to these changes when I don't feel well or have, say, a massive surgery looming on the horizon.  

Then on the other hand, having a full schedule for work directly before the surgery means that I have a built-in distraction.  I will not be able to obsess unhealthfully over details or wander around as I half-start four different packing tasks.  User Group itself is always a fun kind of exhausting, leaving with pudding brain and a real need to zone out to something inane.  My onsite, too, promises to have a lot of questions and a lot of significant pieces to work through.  Between both of these, there's a side benefit that this will certainly put me in the mindset of being ready to be off of work for a little while.  

All this together means that when I was scheduled this last minute trip, I was simultaneously annoyed and very relieved.  I won't obsess about how a number of things I do will be the last time I will be able to do them ever or for a while--lie comfortably on my stomach, use certain body products, go to the gym, roll over without being careful, go swimming--and try to do anything remaining once more, making for its own kind of stress; but on the other hand, I am realizing that there are a number of things that I've already done for the last time without realizing it which is its own existential crisis.  

And of course, since I'm working on this in stretches, these thoughts were written in the theoretical, preemptive.  But now, I can add thoughts that are real and in the now.  

It's real.  And in ways I still can't really accept yet.  I know it's going to happen.  I accept that logic, but the emotional real, well, that's a completely different process.  And I don't really know what to do with it, except that I feel overwhelmed.  It makes me think about being in a car accident, where there is a harsh reality that is consuming all other kinds of thought apart from mental shouts of "that just happened.  Now what?  Now what?  What do I do?"  The anxiety in my stomach swells to ultimately push against my larynx.  

Not all surgery is traumatic, necessarily, in the sense of PTSD kind of trauma, but they can be.  Some of mine definitely have been or at least building off of the same trauma, where things throw me back to particular scenes, specific sensations, staring at the exact same spot in one of my hospital rooms while trying not to move because everything hurt, freezing in place because I'm still trying not to move as a part of that response.  This surgery decidedly puts me back into that same trauma space.  There are many reasons why I don't want to go back.  

Aaaaaaaand in the same breath I am very fortunate to be distracted this week to the point I don't even realize the week is passing.  I even have a friend with me for this particular onsite to share the load and hang out with, which is a huge comfort.  What I have noticed through even the start of this distraction was just how much I needed it--I had/have officially crossed the threshold where preparation has grown into its own swirling vortex, meaning that my coping strategy of planning is officially more harmful than helpful at this point.  One thing my therapist has suggested in some of those points, when I am swallowed into that emotion, is to disassociate from components of it.  E.g. instead of "I am in pain" or "I am feeling pain," I separate myself out:  "there is pain."  So right now, I am practicing "This is happening" rather than "this is happening to me."  It's a subtle difference in verbage but an important one.  This busy week of work and that practice both grant me space to breathe, collect myself, and find calm in the midst of everything else.  I won't stay indefinitely in that space between "me" and whatever the problem is, but with enough distance I don't become the pain, recognize that I am not the pain itself nor is it a part of who I am, just a part of the experience.  From where I'm sitting now, I have done everything that I can do, and there is freedom in that.  I am not my disease.  I have done everything I can.  And now it is time to let go of some of that control and the ownership of events.  I set the dominoes up; I don't have to make each of them fall individually.

So that means I'm pendulating violently from feeling calm to feeling overwhelmed and back again.  From maintaining a bulk of the planning to wanting nothing to do with any decisions.  From anticipation to dread.  From earnest optimism to the kind of realism that plans for the worst.  And, gosh, it's exhausting.  

That's the state of the everything, I think the best ways to help me for the next week is to spam me with fun internet memes and cat videos with the occasional heartfelt encouragement.  We'll get there.  We'll be on the other side soon. 

We're letting an old life die and welcoming a new one; these are just the growing pains in getting there.

To follow along for updates and the like, Pappa P will be updating my Caring Bridge page HERE.