One thing our medical system misses is the psychological effect that a new disability has on a person. They do their best to get you patched up, healed up, and physically moving again, but no one prepares you for the mental games that are going to unfold. I'm into the ugly days - the epic battle between mind and body, what is going to change first ... body or mind?
I'm one of the lucky ones. I have the luxury of believing that my surgery was a choice, that the damage done was done for the greater good, that the disability has a good chance of being resolved over time. Not many in my situation can say that. But the attitude v disability games have begun.
At home I'm not busy enough. I don't have the hospital distractions to annoy me, the scheduled meals or physio, and the steady stream of people to interact with. It's just me and those tasked with babysitting me. I'm not doing myself any favours by sitting around mindlessly doing nothing except getting up and walking once an hour. I know that. I say I'm going to do something that day, but the seemlingly herculean effort to make it happen doesn't always come through.
The novelty has worn off and I'm just tired of this new version of me... If I could escape this body for a day, I would give almost anything to do it. I'm tired of the aches, the pains, the discomfort and I'm tired of being tired.
And I knew this was coming. I have the luxury of having the resources to be able to research the impact of disability on the psyche, the ability to fully navigate our medical system, the smarts to get help when I need it, and I even know someone who has "been there done that" and is able to answer every question I have, give solid advice and predict what's coming next.
But it still sucks.
I will either heal or adapt or some degree of both, but today I want to be the old vivacious me who could do anything. That's not the hand that I was dealt and there is nothing to be done to change that. In the choice between moving on or the sleepiness of the depressed, I choose the family motto - "suck it up and get on with it". (I come from a long line of "yeah, it's hard work, so what" people, and I will not be the first to cave). But I've entered the time when it's hard, when I'm snippy, bitchy and ready to take anyone's head off. The times when it is hard to be around me because you can never be me or understand my life. When I know I need to adapt to my new reality, but I'm still fighting it. When you can escape me, but I can't.
I was as prepared for these times as I could be, but it's going to be a bumpy ride. As much as I am aware of how good I have it compared to some, and compared to what would have happened without surgery, this battle of the old Sarah versus the new Sarah is inevitable.
Now if they'd only send a shrink instead of a personal care worker ...
Not sure you can ever totally prepare for something like this. Remember 'preparing' for your first labour and delivery?
ReplyDeleteSo I'm not sure if I mentioned this before but about four months after my accident, I was in to see my doctor and he asked me how I was doing. I gave him the standard 'not too badly/could be worse/working with what I've got' response. And then he asked me how I was really doing. And I sighed and said that I was tired of it. That I hadn't asked for it and didn't want it and it wasn't fair. I felt I had done my time with it and I was ready to pass it off to someone else and get on with life again.
And he said two things. The first was that life isn't fair. And then he asked me how many times I had done Ironman Canada (he knew the answer). I said three. And then he asked me if there was ever a time when I had felt tired and wanted to quit. And of course, in a twelve hour race, that thought crosses your mind. So he asked me what I did.
I got the point. You take a big breath, suck it up and just keep moving forward. Because there is no quitting, the finish line is a long way away and you won't get there if you don't keep moving forward.
Of course that doesn't mean you don't feel like throwing in the towel sometimes. You're allowed to vent and get all the bad stuff out - make sure there is someone safe to talk with who won't judge. Get it out and move on.
Not sure telling yourself it could be worse is always the best idea. I mean, it's nice and positive and all. But you have a loss and it's okay to grieve it.
I remember another disabled person saying to me 'it's just your arm'. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! It's 1/4 of my limbs! And I miss being able to use it the way I want to. Every so often, I still miss that a lot. You do get used to the new body, though. It becomes your new normal (although for you, probably not a permanent 'new normal').
And the old and new Sarah are the same Sarah. That part is the inside part and it doesn't change. Just the wrapping has changed.
Hey - I think you start start doing push-ups. Set a push-up challenge for yourself. We can have a competition when I get out there. :)
If you and I were in a push-up competition, you would kick my butt !
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