A funny thing has happened in the last month. As my anxiety levels have sky rocketed and my energy levels have plummeted, I have been knocked out for few weeks with mandatory rest.
I had a gall bladder attack on September 1st- yes, it’s a real thing! I didn’t believe my doctor until I googled it and lo and behold, I had 9 out of the 10 symptoms. From there, I underwent several tests including ultrasound and HIDA Scan, which eventually showed I have chronic inflammation due to chronic gall bladder disease. My gall bladder is operating at 29% of what it should be. Since my symptoms were progressing pretty fast, a rush was put on surgery orders and last Friday, my gall bladder was removed.
I am very optimistic that this will resolve ongoing problems I’ve had with my digestive system- including nausea and throwing up bile during tough races. It all makes sense now, understanding what the gall bladder is responsible for, and I am convinced I’ve had symptoms occurring throughout the past several years.
In my usually fashion, I deeply underestimated the time it would take to recover. It didn’t dawn on me that I did have an organ removed and not only do I need to heal from the incisions, my body also needs to learn how to operate sans organ.
So, now I rest. And I find comfort in learning to be still.
It’s a humbling situation to be in and I feel like the most unreliable person at the moment. I have had to cancel fitness classes I teach through my small business Kick@515 and I have had to notify my fellow coaches at Girls on the Run that I cannot be present to lead sessions this week. It’s not my MO to be unreliable and it is an uncomfortable place to be. It’s also uncomfortable to rely on my husband to do everyday simple things for me, like help me put on socks, help me get up and out of the recliner I’ve been spending both day and night in in order to use the bathroom and refill my ice pack for me every few hours.
I can’t help but wonder if this experience, this time to be still is just part of the journey, part of what I need to go through before I become a mother. To learn to rely on others. To learn that expressing I cannot physically do all that I want to is ok and it does not make me unreliable. To learn that where I am at in life right now, imperfectly perfect, well, simply put- is enough.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28
Now, for some humor- because let’s be real, every surgery comes with it’s own🙂.
I was given the nickname “pee wee” upon waking up in the recovery room by a male nurse. He noticed I was trying to do too much on my own and not asking for assistance to cough and blow my nose. I had already asked for a sip of water a few times and he came up along side of my bed with a table on wheels and a cup of water with a straw and said “here pee wee, you’re really too much of a whiner.” Of course, my altered state of mind reacted and I started apologizing and asking if he was serious?!? He said no, the opposite, I was exhibiting too much of an independent streak and didn’t think I would want to wait on my next water request. Smart guy🙂
The nick name “pee wee” stuck throughout my time in the recovery room- which they explained was due to my size- I was just a little pee wee on the bed. A pee wee with a flair for independence. Due to my pee wee size, I was instructed to only take 1/2 of a pain pill once discharged and they only gave me half a pill once I got some food in my system. Which- yuck!! I had to settle on jello because the other options were not gluten free. I kind of loathe jello. It’s a texture thing- I can’t really stand the way it wiggles in my mouth. And to make it worse, the flavor they brought was cherry. Which makes me gag.
After I finished my snack, I continued to struggle to open my eyes, so I stayed a bit longer in the recovery room. I have no idea how long, although it felt like hours in my altered state of mind. During that time, nurses or techs would come by and check out my blood pressure and heart rate stats. I guess they were pretty low. I heard the nurse taking care of me repeat over and over “yeah, she’s a runner.” The male nurse made his way back over and made an ordeal over the stats exclaiming “pee wee! I also work in the ER and if you came in with those stats, we’d be rushing to resuscitate you!” Which, of course is an exaggeration cuz my heart rate would have to be zero for that to occur. My heart rate was steady at 39.
For now, well, I’ll enjoy the accolades for just accomplishing the simple stuff.
And instead of a delightful glass of red wine, well, a virtual cheers with my best friend will have to do