this is what after-care looks like

slowly mending.

i know i'm still holding a bunch of fear. i feel really weird about the surgery. i faced death, but i was unconscious or out of reality for so much of the crucial time. so what happened to me? the things people say happened; this abdominal surgery, the breathing tube, the amusing statements while i was mentally elsewhere (apparently i called the surgical prep team bastards, and had a bad dream involving breastfeeding, gardening and darth vader. darth fucking vader. can you get any darker and deathier? he's the grim reaper for an entire generation. he's our big mean dad in the sky who probably just wanted the best for us but it turned out really fucked up), the almost-dying? or did nothing happen to "me" because nothing is all i remember?

my conclusion is that something definitely happened, or at least i have convinced myself that something happened. i am still in reaction mode. i am slowly realising i can stand straight up, but i keep hunching over, trying to protect my belly. i was increasingly afraid of things done to me at the hospital, even though the things that were done were increasingly less painful. i have reactions to scenes in movies about pain and bodily harm that are similar to reactions i was having to seeing pregnant women. i am identifying with trauma and surgery, integrating it slowly into who i am. i am accepting that what happened while i was unconscious still happened. i guess i did face death - just not with the part of me i remember. not with the waking me. doesn't really narrow it down, but yeah. not this bit.

but this bit is around for a fair amount of the recovery time. never in my life i have been so grateful for extra-strength tylenol as the period since little peanut's birth. i was "not the painkiller" type, and i will be that type again. but like western medicine, there are times when painkillers are really appropriate. don't worry; i won't forget i'm not 100%. i won't re-strain the muscle. i'll just be able to get up without nearly weeping. yeah. good plan.

strength is coming back. granted, it's just strength to climb the stairs right now, but hey. from here, the world.

friends have been lovely. the wife came out, and it was like living with her again; the on-the-bed talks, the kitchen fun... also a member of the healing party is trixie, whom i referred to in relation to the g-20 protests. she's being charged with conspiracy and has been under house arrest for a number of months. anyway, her conditions have been relaxed (to still tighter than people face for their ninth armed robbery) enough that she could travel out to our small town and stay with us with only a minimum of legal paperwork and a note from her sureties. so she stayed for several days and was fabulous; telling me when to get out of bed, when to go back to bed and what to eat. i lost a lot of weight in the hospital and came back skinny enough to make everyone nervous. but i have already gained some of it back and am on my way to get the rest of it. i've never been too skinny, but it's sad to see your scrawny self. eat some almond butter now, just to be on the safe side.

so i don't have any wise words, i haven't figure anything out and i still want to cry. but i'm sticking around to mend, and this too - you can be damn sure - will pass.