Well that wasn’t a walk in the park. Sunday I mean.

The day started out pretty good. I went to the bathroom for the first time since Thursday, which after a major surgery is a big deal. I think we handled it well. The suit is flexible enough to pee with it on, but you need to take every thing off if you are going to poop. Now let’s be adults, we all poop. Manuvering in the morning wasn’t hard, but we have no idea how we managed it. Or how we got everything assembled appropriately after. I was able to be more mobile throughout the day, which was nice because I was able to convince JP that we should make something with the papaya I had bought at the market the week before. I ate a little, slept some. Played some games on my cell phone to keep me busy. 

I lost my appetite in the afternoon, but was trying to nibble on things. The papaya banana bread came in handy on my nightstand. By the time dinner came around I really just wasn’t hungry and I was more tired than anything. I told JP to make himself something to eat and I would figure it out later. We have plenty of snacks and meal parts that it wouldn’t be hard have a tuna sandwich or something similar. Anyway, since I wasn’t hungry, he didn’t want to make himself an elaborate meal.  I get that, fancy for one is a pain, but chicken isn’t fancy and we’ll eat it for a few days anyway. Anyway his lazy man meal planning shined slightly.

From early evening on I was frustrated and he was frustrated. My back was sore from laying down so much and it also hurt if I tried to stand too much. Cabin fever is awful and he truly is giving up his time for me. I understand that. It’s definitely getting to us both. I was so thankful that my friend Jules was able to come over on Saturday for lunch and let him escape for a few hours. She will actually be coming over a few times this week too. So that will be a nice break for the two of us. 

Moving on.

The frustration peaked when I told him I thought I needed help in the bathroom again. Poop number 2 for the day.  So we started to get the suit down, but it was close to the time I needed to take my pain medicine again and I was having some solid burning pain at the incision sights (completely normal). Needless to say I was scared to take the suit off, and then lowering myself (even with his help) to go to the bathroom. After I finally got down and had a quick poop, I tried to think about how I was going to clean myself up. 

Yeah, it’s kind of gross to think about, but if you’re used to going through the motion this isn’t something you would usually be concerned about. So take a minute and think about it, if you couldn’t help yourself, how would you attempt or communicate it to someone else? The problem, I have short arms and it’s hard to reach behind me, I also have limited mobility and bending far forward is difficult. Then there’s tubes that are hooked to drains that are sewn to me; I know sexy imagines right? But as I’m already trying to figure out how I need his help he asks if “I need him to help me wipe”. I said I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t sure. His response “right, answer.” Because he didn’t want to have to help with that. 

At that point I screamed at him to get out of the bathroom because that was a dick thing to say while I’m freaking out and trying to not hurt myself. I seriously thought he was kidding at first, but he wasn’t. I already feel like a child because I can’t do things on my own that are normal like walk to the kitchen standing up and his comment just made me embarrassed and feel like I was asking a lot. 

After I got cleaned up, he started having his own breakdown about how he felt he was in over his head, questioning why would the doctor let him help me, and he felt he wasn’t doing a good job. I told him that he needs to tell me these things because we talked about how much work it would be and a few days post surgery isn’t the time to tell me you feel overwhelmed. We had joked in days leading up that we would probably be a little closer than we want because of the things he would help me with such as drains, showering, going to the bathroom. 

I have told him repeatedly thank you the past few days, I have done my best to assure him that he’s doing everything he’s supposed too and he’s doing everything that I need him to. This isn’t just about me, it’s about those around me who are lending a hand. But I can only do so much reassuring. So much of this is winging it and seeing how things work and how they make me feel. Hell, how they make him feel. The drains – something you can easily google if you desperately want to see them, fill with a combination of fluids being produced by your body, blood is one of them. So as you can imagine it’s a very bright red color that he has to empty, while wearing gloves. So, this process isn’t just hard on me it’s hard on him. 

Today I’m in a funk. I managed to get to the kitchen to get breakfast and coffee going because I wanted to say that I did at least that. I got halfway done before he was awake and came in the room. We managed the bathroom fine today and he was more communicative about what he could do to help and where his willingness is, but I keep thinking back to yesterday when I just felt helpless and he shoved his foot in his mouth. 

Every morning I remember I did have surgery and this is reality. You would think that the pain would remind me, but it hasn’t officially hit me yet. Maybe that’s it, maybe it hasn’t hit him too. 

Tomorrow is my first post-op with the doctor and if everything looks good and I feel comfortable, I’ll share a photo or two. 

I guess we’ll have to see how the next few days progress. 

❀️ Cristina 

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