Day 48

Today’s achievement unlocked: I put my pants on by myself. Maharajah didn’t help & I didn’t use an assistive device. It took some finessing, but I was able to do it. 

Today during PT, I mentioned my goal to put my socks on, and also for help stretching my quadriceps especially in the leg impacted by the surgery, so we focused on that today. She put me on the leg press & increased the weights without telling me (I knew immediately). Then 5 minutes on the exercise bike, which sadly only burned 20 calories!

Fridge was feeling a bit light today so I stopped for groceries & walked a bit more to find everything on the list in my head. By the time I got home I already accumulated 2336 footsteps. 

Day 44

Still waiting for the call from the neuropsychology group for a follow up appointment. 

Everything is otherwise good, except I started sobbing today. I miss both of my parents. And as fucked up as it truly is, I miss the idea of having family. 

Day 43

To expand on what I shared with the neuropsychologist during that four hour psych eval: 

Between 50+ years of emotionally destructive narcissistic abuse on top of a foundation of adverse childhood experiences, feeling unsafe, feeling like a failure, a burden or a problem, being hyper sensitive because of all that, coupled up with pain, anxiety & a baseline of dysthymia, the pandemic & unaddressed or processed grief over my mom dying, this all is negatively impacting my perception & performance at my job where I feel like a failure, a burden and a problem. 

My mom might have set this dynamic in motion; however, she is physically gone now, and I am the common denominator now in my problems, and I need professional help to try and untangle this mess because it impacts everything, and is holding me back, as well as it is impacting my ability to experience & cultivate joy. 

Day 42: The Six Week Mark

Still going to PT 2x a week, banging out close to 2,000 footsteps daily. By 1 pm today I achieved 1,771 footsteps—the day is still young. 

After PT, I went to Wegmans (which no doubt added to my step count), and then to the post office to drop off a letter. Then back home.

Today I am off medical leave and technically working. Basically today will be email inbox housekeeping, setting up new agency laptop & packaging the old one to be sent back to IT. Hard to believe it is nearly 900 days since the shut down in 2020. In some respects ties sure flies, but for me, for the most part, time has stood still. I struggle remembering what day of the week it is, and an always ama ed it is now 2022. 

I am still waiting on the results of my psych eval; however, I am reminded that at the end of 2018 I had a meltdown at work due to a debacle someone else created—and I was the one who was lectured on my attitude, which then had whatever hope I had just plummet—hope that my (then new) boss would usher in a breath of fresh air in my office, and instead, left me with the oh so familiar message that I am a problem. The same message that was conveyed to me by my mom for five decades of my life. 

At the end of 2018 when faced with this mess, it not only fill me with despair, but had me re-evaluate everything and I came to the conclusion to discontinue talk therapy sessions with my therapist after nine years of just stagnating.

My annual eval was the week before I went out on medical leave, and suddenly after 20 years of being in my job, suddenly there is some respect or regard given to my capacity for institutional knowledge—and after 20 years of basically having my arms tied behind my back, suddenly my input is wanted—YET! at the end of 2018, I learned first hand no one wants my input because it doesn’t align with what they want to expect to hear. 

So, I can’t help but see my seeking out a psych evaluation as just an extension of the 2018 bullshit messaging, that I’m a problem. 

My mom is no doubt to blame for this as well as my problem with most older women and women in positions of authority over me. But right now? I am the common denominator. 

I was hoping to use these past six weeks to start devising a plan of escape from this job. I started (and stopped!) reading What Color Is My Parachute. I lack the focus to sit and read and do the exercises in the book Maharajah found so useful last year during his career crisis. 

Periodically, the agency I work for runs retirement workshops at certain times during the year. I got an email this week about the next workshops & I let HR know I was interested. So that is a step in the right direction, I hope. By the time I am literally back in the office, it will be 11 more months until I am able to (I hope) retire from this job. 

Waiting for the results of the psych eval is like waiting for a baby to be born. So much anticipation and uncertainty, but I hope my life will be positively changed as a result.

Day 34

After a lifetime of feeling like I were a problem, and at a minimum the last four years (out of a total of 20 at my job) feeling like a problem at my job, I sought out, planned for, and finally had my four hour psych evaluation. 

In some ways the feedback I got during the process was very validating, especially in regards to my unaddressed grief over mom’s death & the precarious COVID hellscape we are all trying to navigate. 

Afterwards, I sat in my car and completed a 375 question survey as all part of the process. So now I wait for them to call & arrange my follow up visit where we go over the results.

The eval delved into all manner of things. Visual memory stuff, remembering weird geometric shapes, putting blocks in order to duplicate images, remembering long lists of words, having me pronounce a long list of words, and pressing me for not just definitions of words (two of which pavid and another words I cannot remember right now but I didn’t know the definition of them), but also couplets of words & have me say what they had in common—some, such as time and progress, for me were difficult to discern. 

She really appreciated how thoroughly I answered the intake form, and I even provided a power point presentation I created to hopefully cut through a lot of time. 

Day 32

I saw surgeon on Friday. He gave me the green light to shower today. 

I’m doing a little better each day. Today was the first day since 7/14 I was able to take a complete shower (without wrapping my ass in saran wrap) rather than bird baths & sink shampoos. 

I showered up before heading out for my first out patient PT session, run two errands, then visit my chiropractor. And yes, I showed him the shark bite. 

Tomorrow is a do nothing day, so I’ll rest up. Then Thursday is my psych eval, I can’t wait. 

Day 30: Bottoming Out Emotionally

Yesterday Maharajah took me out for an early birthday lunch after our acupuncture appointments. 

It is owned by a famous chef, and is otherwise a nice place, if you’re into name recognition over everything else. It is in a town that isn’t racially diverse, doesn’t have any non-white employees, and doesn’t even have salt and pepper at the table. The latter detail presumes a lot, as everyone’s tastes are different. Whatever, right? 

One problem I will admit to is I get overwhelmed and rather say something i let it slide until I just lose it. What should have been an enjoyable outing gradually spiraled downward into something else entirely. 

Right from moment one when we arrived, my sphincter clenched: valet parking. 

Even before COVID, I loathed valet parking. I don’t like the idea of a stranger in my car, and often times a teenager who is a relatively new driver. Now with COVID, it adds a whole new level of angst. 

I had barely pulled up, and this unmasked snot nose grabbed at my door handle as I growled, “Give me space!” as I reclined the seat all the way back so I could maneuver out of the car.

The spiral consisted collections of stimulants:

Then inside (no masks!), they see me with my cane, and when I asked for most direct route to get to the patio--they walk me down 2 dark flights of stairs with a railing wet with god knows what, rather than have me walk out front door and around building. 

The seat was too low and I hurt myself sitting down. I waited for 4 weeks for my incision to heal up, and while I sat on this uncomfortable seat I worried I ripped my incision open. I sat in silence and discomfort rather than ruin M’s lunch. 

Lady at the adjacent table was ranting about politics, as someone else’s dog trapped in a car howled—we are in the middle of August! All I could think of was the dog’s suffering. 

The menu is limited, and they try to make everything too extra/fancy,  and there is no guarantee I will enjoy my meal--which of course was the case bland bland bland. 

I ordered a squash and chorizo pizza which looked pretty enough; yet it was really lacking in taste. The bits that had chorizo were great; however on a 12 inch pizza, there were about 10 slices of chorizo which had the diameter of a dime. 

We waited too long to get check, my hip throbbing at this point, so i got up to go get the car while he settled the bill, and in doing so i missed the nice birthday gesture. 

Maharajah tries to make my bday special, it isn't like any of my kin (other than my distant cousin David) has anything to do with me.

I just wish i knew how to shake it off--catch myself before I start to spiral and just shake it off. I was sour since I came home, and even a nice long nap with an ice pack on my ass wasn’t enough to snap me out of it. 

Sadly, for the first time in a month, I woke up disappointed I didn’t die in my sleep, and I was in tears by 10 a.m. 

Day 28

Today was my initial eval for out patient PT. And so far so good. I set clear goals and we scheduled as many appointments as we could for the moment. I go back in five days. 

I managed to go to Trader Joe’s & get my grocery shopping done. Then off to Harmon for some items, one of which is a package of Mederma for when I finally get news from the surgeon that my incision has finally healed up, I’ll then start buttering my bum each night in the hopes of making the scar somewhat less gnarly. 

I then placed an order for Ramen for lunch, and Maharajah helped lug everything inside when I got home. 

All in all a productive day so far. 

Day 27: Rehab Might As Well Be A Full Time Job

So far I have waited nearly 2 weeks to schedule my initial eval for out patient PT, and schedule as many appointments as possible. And in doing so, I am disturbed by the fact they are no longer doing COVID screenings, and that leads me to speculate that masking isn’t mandatory anymore. 

Between the on-going COVID hellscape, and the fact that as of today NY state has reported 2,132 Monkeypox cases, I’ll be wearing long pants, long sleeves, and an N95 mask for tomorrow’s eval. 

Tomorrow is the PT eval, Friday is yet another appt with the surgeon to inspect my incision, and next week is a flurry of PT and other medical appointments.  

Still? A better and more productive use of my time than being in the office.

Day 26 Post Op

 Today I finally got discharged from the physical therapist. I really had hoped that the male PT would be here, as I really go a lot out of those sessions. 

Additionally, she said she’d arrive between 12:30 and 1:30, and I rushed to get washed up and ready, burning a lot of energy to do so, and she arrived at 1:30. 

Meanwhile I had shit to do today but lost steam sitting around waiting for her. Tomorrow’s another day, but just because I am recovering from major surgery & require PT does not mean I don’t have other things I want & need to do. 

So, tomorrow I’ll get those things done: Rx pick up at Sams (as well as a curbside pick up there too, as I can’t walk the entire warehouse yet), do a UPS drop off, and maybe call the out patient PT place again and see if they can finally get me an appointment. 

I really don’t want to go to my third choice place because even with masking mandates, they weren’t enforcing it stridently, and I spent the entire time in my sessions anxious. I have no doubt in my mind no one is masking there anymore at this point.

Meanwhile, my first choice doesn’t take my insurance, but I have met my deductible for physical medicine, and if I were to go there, it would cover 50% of my sessions—which over the course of six weeks, 3x a week, will add up. 

So about that Rx pick up for tomorrow…

My surgeon has me on a 5 week course of blood thinner due to my Factor Five Leiden Mutation. At the hospital, I got a 30 day supply, but I need an additional week’s worth of pills. 

I messaged my doc and asked if I could just resume my dietary supplements on day 31, as they thin the blood, and he mixed it and said this is the protocol. Great. Right?

So I get a text notification from he pharmacy informing me my Rx is ready and it costs $30–FOR SEVEN PILLS ($4.29 per pill!). I called to verify it went through insurance & they verified it did, in fact, go through insurance, because without insurance the cost would be $140.00 ($20 per pill!). 

I am not sure WTF is going on, because the 30 day supply I received from the hospital pharmacy cost me less than $20. At this point I am not sure who the fuck is robbing me, and I am glad I will be off these pills soon. 

So far the EOB for the surgery itself was about $5K—the anesthesiologist was $5k+, with a total over $11K. I am now waiting for the EOB for the hospital facility billing—I’m sure that’ll be a doozie, and again, fortunate that I have a good medical plan—for now.  

Day 25

Today was my final appointment with the occupational therapist. He had plans on working my upper body today, but I ambushed him when he arrived and told him what I had planned on doing with him :)

I told him that we’re going down the stairs and out to the car so he can witness my form in and out of the car. At 10 a.m. it was already close to 90F, zero breeze and we both were sweating profusely when we got back inside. 

He discharged me, and I thanked him for all his recommendations, and we both parted ways giving each other an A+ grade. 

Now I sit and wait to get back from the visiting PT, as well as the outpatient PT facility for my next appointment & first appointment. 

Friday will be hopefully the final inspection on my incision, and at that point I will be able to shower with a bit more confidence. 

I have packaged up whatever parts I could, and will be sending the grab bar back for a refund. Not sure how I will get the mounting cleats off the wall of my shower. I might check youtube for a tutorial—if one exists, it is surely there. Then I will have to order a new grab bar and have a professional install it. 

Now? I nap!

Day 23 & 24

On Friday’s appt, the surgeon gave me the green light to drive, and I waited one day, and here I am on my way to my acupuncture appointment. Ah! Sweet independence! 

Despite Maharajah’s insistence I return straight home, I did manage to go to the local greenhouse for veggies, and I stopped at Dunkin for iced tea & a breakfast sammy, and I sat in the car like old times, having some private time eating breakfast & listening to podcasts before returning home. 

Today I decided THIS IS IT!! I wasn’t going to wait one more day for this pesky incision to heal up before attempting to shower. I spent half of July doing sink shampoos and bird baths and no matter how thorough I have cleaned, it is nothing like a shower. 

So today, we wrapped my buttock in some Glad cling wrap, and hoped for the best. Given the grab bar debacle, I was anxious but managed to get a good enough showering and shampoo done, then had a nap of several hours. 

We picked up laundry as it was ready at the cleaners, and we picked up our dinner order then headed to our favorite park to sit in the car and eat dinner, and get a little walk in before heading home. 

So far today it is a paltry 1,078 footsteps, and I managed one trip down and one trip back up the stairs. I even managed to get in and out of the car without relying on my yoga strap. 

Tomorrow morning the occupational therapist will be here, and I am not sure what he has planned for me, but I guess I will suggest taking the trash out and show him how I get in and out of the car, so hopefully he will finally dis harge ne tomorrow. I think I have one more appointment with the visiting PT, too, I just don’t know when they will arrive. I hope it is the male PT, I get more out of those appts. 

Day 22: It’s Not A Vulva, It’s An Incision

 

Today is day 22 post-op, and I saw the surgeon (again) and will be seeing him (again) next week to inspect my incision . 

In this photo you can see some remnants of the adhesive surgical mesh, and the bit in the upper right part of the photo is what has been problematic; however, it is gradually shrinking. 

It’s still going to leave a gnarly scar, and I don’t care all that much as I don’t have eyes in the back of my head; however, I might think hard and long and come up with a clever idea for a tattoo to camouflage it. 

To show the personality of my surgeon, when he entered the exam room, he cheerfully quipped, “Show me the goods!” and I responded by hoisting my dress up and presenting my shark bite for inspection.

I got the green light to drive as I’ve been off vicodin for 10 days now. Showers & sex have to wait one more week. 

Although I started the day using the walker when I first got up, I used the cane for the remainder of the day. Also worth mentioning, I was a bit rushed when I left the house for the surgeon appointment, and I forgot my yoga strap; be that as it may, I managed to get in and out of the car without much difficulty. 

After the appointment, we picked up our lunch at what now is or will be our routine place, and sat in a metered parking spot devouring it. Afterwards, I managed to walk to an Indian market right there, and get a good browse on, and managed to pick up some falooda ice cream as a nice reward for the day. 

The day is not over yet, but the pedometer on my phone is showing 1,338 footsteps. 

Adventures in Grab Bar Installation

I ordered the grab bar the occupational therapist suggested, and it sat for 4-5 days despite me asking M. for help installing it, as I am *clearly* unable to do so. 

It sat. First in the living room in clear view. Then I moved it to the bathroom and placed it in his sink. Nothing. 

So, I asked the OT for help installing it. And we did the best we could, following the instructions. I even measured out exactly where I wanted it and traced an outline around the flanges at the top and bottom. 

We glued the cleats in place yesterday. It cured 24 hours overnight. And M tried screwing everything together ABD OF COURSE IT IS FUCKED UP. 

He then suggested “it’ll do,” and when I attempted to grab the bar and put probsbly 10-20 pounds of pressure on it, the bar ripped from the cleat without difficulty. Yeah. “It’ll do.” What it will do is facilitate ne snapping my neck. 

So M set about criticizing the OT’s work, and that he could have done a better job, which just invoked my inner Kali-ma level rage, “Yeah? BUT YOU DIDN’T!!! I ASJED YOU FOR HELP! IT SAT FOR 4-5 FUCKING DAYS AND YOU DIDBT BOTHER EVEN OPENING THE BOX! I HAVEN'T SHOWERED IN THREE FUCKING WEEKS!!

I have been on my feet for over three hours puttering in the kitchen. Food prep. Cleaning. Setting up my coffee pot for tomorrow. Unloading AND loading the dishwasher. Corn bread baked. Black bean mango salad made. Jubilee Chicken made. Chicken stock made. Eggs boiled. Carrots prepared for dinner. Ribs in the slow cooker. Not once did he say, “Rest. You have been on your feet too long.”

I am enraged. And I am tired of bird baths. Barely three weeks into this and I am miserable. 

Day 20 Getting A Bit Burnt Out

 

Photo is from Sunday, which was a 1500+ footstep day. 

Here it is, day 20 post-op, and I am getting burnt out on this stream of strangers (visiting nurse, physical therapist, occupational therapist) coming to the house. Everyday 1-2 of them are here. Then there is Friday. This week and last week we’re appointments with the surgeon to check on the incision. 

I just want one day of complete rest, physical and psychological. Every timethey arrive, I am filled with dread (about exposure, COVID or monkeypox. They’re all masked, and my UV HEPA air purifier is running before, during, and after the visit, but still I worry. 

The occupational therapist helped me install the mounting cleats for a grab bar for my shower, and he’ll be here tomorrow with the set goal of getting me to practice getting in and out of the tub so I can shower. 

Depending on how Friday’s appointment with the surgeon goes, perhaps Friday afternoon I could be taking my first hot shower since the early morning of July 14th, the day of the surgery. 

The physical therapist I prefer (there have been 2) will be here this afternoon, and he will no doubt have me down the stairs and outside for a walk, and I think once he leaves I’ll do my daily wash up. 

In the meantime I am conserving my energy and focus—that statement in itself is laughable if you think of what I have managed to do so far this morning after taking my meds (fill water filter; brew tea for ice tea; fill pressure cooker with stuff for chicken stock along with eggs and carrots, literally 3 different things cooking at once; set out ingredients for cornbread & a black bean mango salad; and plans on putting a rack of marinated ribs in the slow cooker for dinner tonight). But in this moment I am drinking coffee, blogging, while the house is redolent with the aroma of chicken stock pressure cooking away. 

It’s a good day.