Posts
She was blindsided by a health crisis.
Having enjoyed good health all my life, I am in shock to be experiencing a serious health crisis. After major surgery, the long-term prognosis is good for my full recovery and many years of excellent health in the future. But only after a few months of slowly and painstakingly regaining my health will I arrive in this promised future. Oh how I took my health for granted, assuming that with my careful diet and lifestyle, my knowledge of nutrition and how my body works, I could avoid serious illness. It didn’t work that way and I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened.
Here are the medical facts in a nutshell. Five years ago I had my first diverticulitis attack. Until then, I didn’t know I had diverticulosis. My diet and lifestyle contraindicate ever contracting this disease, but my genetics doomed me. My mother and both my grandmothers had it. It was a time bomb ticking in my body. I have fought valiantly these five years, narrowing what I ate more and more and taking a host of nutraceuticals and herbs to aid digestion. But this summer, soon after I moved to Portland, my health deteriorated. I had one abdominal infection after another, was hospitalized several times, lost my energy, and lost my appetite. The constant antibiotics and constant battle with infections wore me down. Finally, in September, a smart surgeon figured out from my CT Scans that I had entered the endgame of my journey with diverticulosis. I needed to have my sigmoid colon removed, and, as they discovered when I was on the operating table, I needed it removed immediately to save my life. I’m a hard woman to kill.
Removing part or all of the sigmoid colon is a common and routine surgery that has been conducted for decades to address all sorts of issues from diverticulosis to colon cancer. Even though it is routine, with relatively few risks, it is still major surgery. It laid me flat. It’s amazing how quickly our muscles atrophy when we don’t use them. Nearly ten years of diligently going to the gym washed away overnight. I could barely move. I don’t remember anything from the first two post-surgery days. When I got out of the bed and forced myself to move again on Day 3, I crept slowly on a brief walk around the ward using a walker with a member of my care team and a physical therapist walking beside me to prevent me from falling.
My weeklong stay in the hospital after the surgery was actually a pleasure because the care team was terrific. I had super nurses and CNAs, a great physical therapist, a brilliant young surgeon, and other helpful staff who contributed to my recovery. I enjoyed engaging them in conversation and we shared stories, they told me about their families and pets, I learned the meaning of their names, I had them explain their tattoos, they made me laugh, and they kept me entertained and comfortable. I heard how the married women’s husbands had proposed to them (one of my favorite questions). I gave advice on potty training toddlers, dealing with seasonal allergies, and more. They made me feel like the grand dame of the fifth floor. I gave the nursing staff a good laugh by telling them that I felt like I was staying at a spa. (I asked them what time I was scheduled for my manicure.) On my last day, many people popped into my room to say goodbye and wish me luck. One of the CNAs told me, “It has been a pleasure to care for you.” After I had settled in at home, I sent them a bouquet of flowers to thank them.
Coming home was hard. I’m looking at days, weeks, months of slow recovery. I can feel myself improving and getting stronger by very small increments. But I wonder how I will survive these weeks of healing. The days drag. I lack patience for my uncooperative body. I don’t get much done, although I’m easing back into my grant writing work, which I can do from bed. I tire easily and spend too much time during the day sleeping so that I don’t sleep through the night. I take a slow and careful walk outside twice a day without a walker, enjoying the brilliant fall color in the maple trees. If only I could fold time and jump to a few weeks from now. If only. I feel fortunate that my ill health is short-term and that I can look forward to achieving that magical state called “good health” one day in the future. I doubt I would have the courage or determination to continue life if I had a chronic or serious disease with no end in sight.
I have to work to keep my mind occupied and my attitude positive. I am grateful to my friends and family for their extraordinary support. My husband Ron has given me so much. When I was so terribly sick during those first few days after surgery, Ron sat on my hospital bed, held my hand, and sang to me. How could I not feel better from that? I have a long road ahead and keep the vision of a complete recovery as my guiding light. I am reminded once again of the fragility of our lives. Mysterious forces beyond our vision work their designs.
I wish you good health, dear reader. Do not take it for granted.
