Two weeks post-op now and I take all the wins I can get. I used to see myself as a big baby, someone with a low pain threshold, and the mere idea of it still brings me visceral pain. But even with the infection I’m currently fighting, I’m looking around me at my apartment and the way I’ve set it up -by myself and with the help of friends- so that I can navigate this part of recovery on my own and it makes me question this narrative. A hundred pillows propped on the bed in different positions so I can roll in and out. A contraption that lets me reach things that are far away and grab them without having to bend or twist my torso so that it doesn’t pull on my incisions. A stool and non-slip mat in the bathroom so I can shower independently. A grocery order and a list of hacks to make food that sustains me and takes less than 30 minutes. As many canned, sliced, ready veggies/protein. A cane for support when I need it. A little station with everything I need to clean my open wounds daily.
After getting through the first night where I had no one beside me, I woke up feeling something I can’t quite name but that no one can take away from me. My therapist used to ask me to remember that I would always have my own back even if I had no one. And I do, it’s true. I’m so proud of myself despite the fear. I made myself coffee for the first time since surgery and I smiled at the normality of it at all. What a privilege it is to stand in my kitchen, grinding coffee beans and waiting for the milk steamer to heat up. :)
