Maria and I replanted the Gratitude Urn and put it in the Dahlia garden, it looks as if it grew there. It is symbol of my gratitude for my open heart surgery, for discovering my weakening heart early, for saving it from grievous harm or worse, and for healing well so far, the beginning of this journey of recovery. My fitbitflex has become a chronicler, a quiet chorus and record of my steps to recovery. In the past week, over a six day period, I took 38,587 steps towards recovery, I walked 18.44 miles and burned more than 18,000 calories.
My nightmares are slowing, I am beginning to sleep, my incision scars seem to be healing well, I am losing weight, I am become semi-functional. I washed some dishes today, I will start cooking some meals tomorrow. I can bend over now, and breathe more or less normally, although there are occasionally breathtaking bursts of pain, reminders to be slow and careful. I can bare to look at myself in the mirror now, I can shower for myself and dry myself off. Small steps, big steps. I cannot drive, lift most things, or help Maria out with much of anything on the farm. She is a trooper but she is wearying. My daughter Emma is coming up Thursday for a few days, I hope this will get Maria back into her Studio, where she will return to herself. I am grateful for her every minute of every day.
Curiously, gratitude is the primary emotion I feel. Things could have been much worse, gone much worse. I am starting back to work on my next book this week, I am eager to get to New York City and do some readings on behalf of my new e-book, “Who Speaks For the Carriage Horses: The Future Of Animals In Our World.”
I know recovery from this kind of surgery takes awhile, but I am not in too much pain now, I am off all painkillers and I am especially grateful to be back doing one of the things I most love – walking in joy and purpose. I relish walking up hills I could not climb a few weeks ago. The next few weeks are filled with healing and purpose, I will be seeing a lot of doctors, figuring out permanent medications, widening my walking length and range. I’m thinking of getting a treadmill for the winter when the days are so short and dark.
The biggest sign of my surgery is my sudden exhaustion, I just collapse into a chair and pass out for an hour or so. This, I am told, is the heart’s way of getting rest for itself as it recovers from the trauma of surgery. I promised never to complain about my surgery, force the story on anyone else, or convert into a struggle story. I don’t believe most people need or want to hear much about it, I am eager to move on. This will not be my identifying characteristic, it does connect me to people who suffer pain and loss, it helps me towards empathy and compassion.
Surgery like this reminds me that time is short, it reminds me of what it is important, it reinforces my long-held belief that there is no such thing as security, we can only feel safe and be safe from inside of us. As always, my blog is a great centering force in my life, I believe writing here helped me heal more quickly than anything. I am grateful for it. I am working on several bracing schemes to show to the surgeon that might get me and my camera back in operation, it is good to be thinking about photos, I will appreciate them all the more.