Giving Thanks

 

Sitting here in my nook with the sun peeking in and out of the clouds shining on piles of fall leaves, I sigh. It’s a sigh of relief and gratefulness. I am here. I am alive. I am getting stronger everyday. These are things I used to take for granted. Now I don’t. 

Last month, I was home recovering from major surgery on my colon. Even though I wasn’t able to do much but sit in bed or a chair, I was so thankful to be home. I was so glad that all the infections and pain I’d suffered with in my body for over a year were finally fixed. 

Thankful for great nurses and doctors. 

All of my nurses and aides on the 7th floor west at St. Vincents were wonderful. They were there for me day and night. They delivered more than antibiotics. They delivered kindness and caring and emotional support. They listened to me and shared and chatted with me, too. 

And one night in particular, which I didn’t think I’d get through, they were with me all the way. They came in and out in a steady stream, taking care of me. Their expertise and team work was amazing. They were ‘on it’ at all times. I was terrified and they were calm. That reassurance helped me believe I would be alright. 

My surgeon is a hero in my mind. He saw the problem, at last, and knew how to fix it. And it was not an easy fix. It was a scary scenario but he went in and fixed it all. It was so good to see him pleased with the result. And afterwards, he made sure I got the best post surgical care, too. I give thanks for his expertise everyday. 

Giving thanks for my stubbornness. 

I will start out by saying, it wasn’t easy to get help. I was tossed from one urgent care, express care, nurse practitioner to another. I kept describing my pain and problems and got handed a prescription. Tests were done and some came back positive and most were negative.

Seeing so many different people in different places made it even harder. I was misdiagnosed which made me question the healthcare system. And myself. But I was stubborn. I kept trying to get help. I am thankful for all the antibiotics, they kept me alive. 

And thankfully, finally a CT scan illuminated the problem. And I am now recovering and fine. 

Finally. 

I give many, many thanks:

For a talented surgeon,

The specialists on my surgical team,

All the nurses and aides on St. V 7th floor west,

You saved me, reassured and comforted me,

And shared stories and smiles, one of the best medicines. 

Recovery

 

This word describes so many things in my world right now. Maybe yours too? Unexpected things happen to us and around us over which we have limited or no control. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to not be in control. It’s frustrating and scary. But it’s a place we all know well and if we can share it in our common space, maybe we can find ways to pull through it all together. 

Seasonal lessons.

I am in a season of recovery. I am home from the hospital successfully put back together. I’ve known for many months I needed help. I knew my body’s pain was a message and while I tried to get help, all I got were bandaids in the form of antibiotics. I went from winter to spring to summer and fall asking why I kept having UTI’s. I got no answers.

 

A few weeks ago, a CT scan showed an abscess from last year had never left my body and was leaking bacteria and causing all those UTI’s. The cure was abdominal surgery and reconstruction. I am now ‘fixed’. 

While the trees drop their leaves and prepare to rest through the winter, it is my time to rest as well. It’s hard for me to drop my routines. Pulling and pushing and rolling out clay. Doing yoga. Lifting weights. Picking up my grand baby. But, to recover my strength, I must rest. 

Color therapy. 

The leaves in the park are falling, layering the grass and walkways in layers of color. I love all the gorgeous red, yellow, orange and purple. And even though I don’t like brown, it adds a base for the other colors to shine. 

Like the trees outside, I let my fears and anger and shock and sadness drop like leaves from the past year. I see the layers of branches unseen before like organs in my body, the structures now strong.

As I walk through the park, I drink in the layers of color. I bend myself gently to pick up a few fallen leaves to take home. I play a little with watercolors and pens and yarn. And I read and rest and eat and nap. 

And just as the trees bud in spring, I feel the prickles of nerves searching to unite and flourish once again. 

Searching for answers

And finding none

Be brave 

Time will tell 

And all will be well.