{ Humble pie. }
One can prepare as best as possible for a substantial event, but the unknown elements create moments of humility that have, in turn, produced gratitude. Having another major surgery did that for me.
I went in as emotionally sound as I could knowing there'd be triggers and memories that would surface from a decade of pain and hardship witnessing many of my family members face cancer. This journey has been to prevent cancer but the experience has been all too familiar. Leaving the kids the night before was torment; having them cared for by our family and friends made it easier.
Being I had to stop eating and drinking by midnight, I filled up over a celebratory meal with My Love where we toasted God's goodness and faithfulness. Tim has been nothing short of being amazingly awesome, gentle, caring and patient in this recovery process.
With the surgery time beginning late morning, it gave for hours of reflection and worry to set in. Our good friend drove south to sit with Tim during the six hour surgery. It's been because of our village that we've done this so well.
Recovery has been filled with love and friendship from the willing childcare, surprise visits, endless meals and cards of well-wishes. Living in a small town has pros and cons but our family has seen the deep, genuine care of our community at its finest.
Thank you seems small for how grateful we are.
{ Needed all the encouragement I could fester... }
My sister had these socks from her journey and I occasionally wear them when I need to do hard things. If there was one person, aside from my husband, to sit by my side, it would be my sister. Someone to calm my fears, tell me what it would be like and support our kids like she did so well. I set aside the provided hospital socks and demanded my Bad A** socks remain on throughout surgery.
The only surprise of the day was Dr. Calhoun stating she would remove one lymph node from each side as precaution not reason.
This felt too similar to Traci's story and the surprise procedure was enough set the tears into motion. Tears that went from fear to laughter before surgery.
Tim and I have found weekly lunch dates in all our trips to and from Seattle both before and after surgery. One of which had the perfectly stated message for us as Tim has truly carried me through this experience.
When doctors warn you of T-rex arms, they really aren't joking. The range of motion and ability to do ANYTHING for yourself is immediately stripped away after a double mastectomy.
Even breathing on my own was a burden for my body the first five hours after surgery resulting in Tim cautiously, but with great panic, reminding me to breath. Every minute and a half I felt a gentle tap on my hand and a voice telling me, "Breath hun, stay with me love."
Once the narcotics began filtering out of my body, Tim was able to relax a little bit.
Going the bathroom, showering, getting dressed and the first few days, cutting my own food were all tasks I needed help with. Adjusting the eight pillows to find some level of comfort became Tim's specialty. He just knew what I needed, when I needed it.
Around the clock care.
Around the clock humility.
I have been at the mercy of others and still remain here to some extent.
{ My personal care taker. }
{ Recovery in action. }
My views of recovery have been watching my Mom clean our house, getting kids here and there, full seasons of all things Joanna Gaines and clinging to my mastectomy pillow on weekly trips to SCCA and UW Medical Center. I've mastered the art of sitting and frankly, found myself sick of it while watching Bakers vs. Fakers. While watching, a craving text to Tim became reality when he brought home two pies.
Humble pie to match my journey of learning how to ask for help, accept helping hands and being okay with it.
My recovery journey continues for a few more months and everyday I'm feeling stronger. I celebrate the little wins for the day and find myself so incredibly grateful for each prayer spoken on my behalf.
Today's win... I washed my own hair.
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