“Some things are so unexpected that no one is prepared for them.”
Everyday is so unpredictable which is ironic because I do the SAME.THING.EVERY.DAY. I wish and I hope. It’s kind of like that movie Groundhog Day, except it isn’t funny. I wake up every single morning and think “Maybe I can walk today” “Maybe I can talk normal today” “Maybe I can smile today”… I KNOW even though I lost these abilities overnight, I will not regain these abilities overnight (no matter how bad I want to). So these everyday thoughts are just mean, I am setting myself up for disappointment every morning. I should stop but I can’t because I am just that hopeful (or desperate) for the return of some normalcy.
This one was not part of the plan. After a lot of positive feedback about my blogging, I strategically planned out some future blog topics. I was going to do:
The Diagnosis
The Surgery
The Hospital Recovery
In-Patient Rehab Recovery
At-Home Recovery
Out-Patient Rehab Recovery
Random Hospital Observations
Being a Mother and Dealing with it all
The importance of a Support System
Having a Health Crisis the Same Semester You Are Supposed to Graduate.. etc etc
But, just like this experience has taught me, shit doesn’t always go according to plan. So I’m ditching the outline. After all, as happy as I am that I have received positive feedback, this isn’t for my readers, this is for me. I share my stories for feedback, hope someone will see it and have answers for me, and to provide the few answers I have found with other people struggling. Today, I just need to vent. I’ll get to the rest when I get to it (and I will). Even though this story has an outline, nothing has been outlined.
I know this is my new normal, but I can’t accept that. I try so hard to think “at least you’re alive” “at least you’re learning” but that doesn’t make me feel better so I’d rather think “maybe tomorrow you will be back to normal” and even though the realization hurts like a bitch when I wake up disappointed, it feels better to think that than to think “get used to it".
In addition to a daily dose of false hope, I also work for it every day. I do physical therapy everyday, vision therapy everyday, speech therapy everyday. And although I have progressed since the surgery, I feel like I am progressing at the same rate that grass grows in the winter.. maybe even slower. I feel like I bike 20 miles every day, but someone took the chain off my bike so I really just pedal 20 miles in place everyday.
And people tell me how far I’ve come since surgery, but all I did after surgery was puke my brains out and hold onto a bucket like Tom Hanks holds on to Wilson in Castaway. So to me, being told I have come so far since my surgery is like telling a baby they’ve come so far since birth. Anything is an improvement from busting out of a 9 month sentence in a fluid filled sac.
I am not and have not given up, but omg do I want to. I wish I knew how this story would end for me, but as I am a “medical mystery” to my surgeons and doctors, I am also a medical mystery to Google and have yet to find any solid information on just exactly when I will recover, and how I will recover.
When will I walk? When I walk, when will I run? (ok I’m jumping levels.. no pun intended) When will I talk normal? When I talk normal, will I be able to sing normal? When will I smile again? When I smile, will I laugh?
Like the owl on that tootsie pop commercial once said in regards to how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop- “the world may never know….”