Ricardo, my physical
therapist, presses his strong hands into my lower back, rubbing in cream with
soothing circular and up-and-down motions.
“That’s where it still hurts,” I say. “Is it normal that I still feel pain after seven weeks?”
“That’s where it still hurts,” I say. “Is it normal that I still feel pain after seven weeks?”
“Of course,” he answers. “You
had major surgery. “They made an incision in your skin and then pulled you open.
In my experience, your recovery should take about 3 months.”
“I’ve been feeling kind of
low,” I tell him.
“Perfectly normal.”
My step is lighter as I leave.
In
spite of my doctor’s reassurances, I need validation for what I am feeling. My
family treat me like a queen – breakfast in bed, morning checks on levels of
pain, hands to help me up – for about
the first month. I think they expect that I should be better now. Yes, they
still ask daily how I feel, but I sense they are losing patience. At the dinner
table one night, they claim to feel frustrated that I can’t describe in detail
the intensity and location of the pain.
“How
does it compare with before surgery?”
“You’re
healed on the outside so should also be healed inside.”
“Then
the surgery did no good.”
“That
doctor keeps changing your medication.”
I
tell them I have complete confidence in Doctor B. who reminds me of a big brown
teddy bear that I want to hug. We actually do hug each time I leave his office.
I can send him a WhatsApp which he answers immediately or calls me on my cell
phone.
At
home, I report on Ricardo’s comments. That should keep them at bay for a day or
two. But doubts prevail in my own head. I pull out the long sheets of
information on the two meds I’m still taking.
Adverse Effects: Drowsiness,
weight gain, puffiness, weakness, depression, irritability. (and “fondness for
doctors," I add.)
That just about covers it. I
spend half the day in a stupor, can only walk 4 or 5 blocks, my face is
swollen, I feel ugly and find solace in reading and swear like a drunken sailor
when I trip over the vacuum cord.
Two days until I see Ricardo
again. He reminds me of a ...
