So I have been thinking about some post operative stuff.
I spent an hour or so rereading all of Mark's posts he wrote while I was being operated on and then after.
All I can say is.............gee wizz.
I cried through most of them. Crying for me, Mark, my children and my friends who followed the saga.
I didn't cry because the content was new, no, I had caught up on the operation and resulting consequences. I cried because of the fear and worry that was surrounding me and the situation at the time. I was overwhelmed with the feelings involved.
I'm so pleased that Mark felt he could update the blog so regularly. I hope it helped him cope with his feelings too.
But reading these posts brings and unsettling thoughts to the surface for me. While I was in rehab I was surrounded by people trying to overcome varying types of adversity. I found myself talking to many of my fellow "inmates" trying to encourage them to stay positive and strong. I was sad that so many of these beautiful people felt let down by their bodies, brains, medical system and lives.
Eventually I began to feel a bit like a fraud. My brain was making new connections very quickly. It was becoming obvious to those around me that I was "different". I actually left rehab two weeks before the staff anticipated because I felt I had outgrown the place and my home environment could offer me the challenges I now needed.
Scientifically and medically my brain looked a bit messy on discharge from hospital into rehab. The prognosis was grim. Sure, they all thought I'd recover, but to what extent and in what timeframe was still in question. Poor old Mark was told I should recover in 18 months.
Why did my brain decide to get cracking and come back. How come I got a second chance??
Why can't these other people in rehab get their brains working again for them yet??
I'll never forget a conversation I had with a man who was recovering from a stroke and had just discovered that morning that sensation had returned to his paralysed hand. I was overjoyed for him and with him. It made me feel like their was hope and I encouraged him. Telling him that this happened to me...........I could share and empathise.
Why do some people just accept what is happening to them and yet lose hope? I guess when recovery is slow, the progress is so less obvious that they feel less motivated.
When I woke in hospital I assumed I was no different. I gradually became aware that I wasn't quite as I was before the operation. I now realise that I was actually setting myself goals all along the way. To get out of HDU, to move into a general ward, to get to the toilet unaided, to move my hand. Small but very important goals for me and my family.
So now that I'm beginning to feel stronger I'm starting to wonder what I'll do with my second chance. I need more time to recover, but I can't help wondering. It's in my nature, to plan, review and prepare.
Will I use words to help others in a similar situation? No idea.
Will I go back an encourage others struggling to stay positive during recovery? Quite possibly.
Whatever happens I am very grateful for my second chance. I'm glad to have a future to plan for. Even if that does mean going through more treatment and living with this growth for the rest of my life..........at least I was told I have a future. Time to set some more goals and be grateful for coming back to my lovely life.