Walking a crooked road to recovery

Two weeks ago today I was in ICU, the dark side, my personal Armageddon, I shit you not, a twister of emotions, voices juddering in my head, dipping below the surface, grabbing the lifeline that was my yellow brick road, somewhere, over the rainbow. Catch a breath. Reach for those memories, snap that photo, linger. Hope. Pray. Is anyone there? They're all here. Every step of the way. Near and far. I'm not alone then. I can do this. We can do this. Love. Love will lead the way.

Recovery started with all the unconscious work that my body performed while I was asleep. 24 hours of the good stuff, the not knowing, before the awakening and the mental game of two halves begins. Waking up to being an invalid no less, albeit for a short time, thank god, but incapacitated nonetheless. Totally underestimated how that would make me feel. Mrs multitasker running around at 100 km/h beep beep Road Runner! Get out of the way losers! Wakes up as Ironside, the '70s TV crime show set in San Fran with the guy in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down from a sniper bullet, solving crime for the SFPD. You tube it up people. OK I'm being dramatic, it's allowed, the old artistic license. "God bless us and save us" as mom would say. 

Loss of independence is a mind-fuck. Will it ever come back? Bed baths, bum wiping, those nurses are worth their weight in chocolate. "Sorry to put you through this". "Ah, this is nothing I've just had 3 patients bleed all over me". My beautiful J was willing to step in but there was no way on earth that I was gonna let him wipe the shite off my arse. Too much information. It was just the once anyhow, I was back to the old self wiping on the second bowel movement. Triffic!

You create a list of Physical firsts. First poo, first wee without catheter, wound pump removal, blood lines out, walk with frame, walk without frame, set of stairs, etc. You leave hospital and come home to a new set of goals. Showering with glad wrap on your donor site (thigh), detangling your hair (product promo: L'Oreal Leave in conditioner, Elvive. Rec by Jiss, the chief of nurse motivators in Plastics. J spent 3 days looking for "L'Oreal Elixir" until we realized the elixir was the morphine and the conditioner was Elvive). Man it feels good to have your hair washed. I've upgraded now to a Lush leave-in product called "RnB", deeeeellluuuuussssshhhhh.

Still working through the list. The true test will be next week when J goes back to work and I have to move on to the next stage of independence. Resocialising is on the list. Too easy to become a hermit. Virtual socializing has been a hit! Sitting in my pants in front of the iPad. You'll find me in one of three places. Ground control: the indoor chair in the lounge, a bedside table either side with all my techy stuff, books, mags, crochet, at hand. Chair with a view: outdoor chair on the covered deck, come rain or shine, fresh air, sound of Tuis and the brush of the trees in the wind. That's the heart of our house that deck area. Third space is bed - available for afternoon naps, district nurse visits and a couple other things on the road to recovery. Mmmwwwwwaaaaaahhhahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

So that's been my world for the last week. While I've been developing my online persona you've probably been thinking she's doing well, she's probably doing cartwheels across the living room floor. Nah, I've been wrapped in cotton wool, pampered and fed peeled cherries and plums by my lovely man J. Not having to lift a finger except on and off the keyboard. I have felt like the cat that got the cream except mine has been spread all over my furry belly, dolloped with strawberry jam and licked off. 

How could I not recover so well? Next stage of recovery is resocialising. Off to see the 3 aunts who have arrived from England last night. This will be a tonic, no doubt with a vodka thrown in!