Too Much, Too Fast

As I am back into the full swing of my life post TAC surgery, I can see that I didn't quite recover as quickly as I thought I might. For the first two weeks, my mother took care of Precious Miracle. I don't know what I would have done without her help. Precious Miracle is at the stage where she requires constant attention and interaction. She is into things that she shouldn't and climbing where she ought not to (stairs and furniture). She also likes to be snuggled, typically between the hours of 3 pm and bedtime. These are all things a person with a freshly cut hole in the stomach can't handle. So with that, I must say, "Thank you, Mom!"

Perhaps part of my slow recovery is the fact that I pushed myself instead of taking it easy. Five days post-op, I held an egg hunt in my neighborhood. I picked up heavy items, walked a distance and went up and down the stairs without thinking about it. And what did I get? Here I sit, over three weeks later, still putting pressure on my incision as I sneeze.

The third week of my recovery was spent in sunny Florida and once again, I did things that I probably shouldn't have. I wore my jeans (I'm still very swollen) and carried heavy items, not to mention I walked all over the airport. I had no idea that closing the hatch on an SUV required so much abdominal work until I did it with freshly cut abdominal muscles. Perhaps that's what put me over the edge. I ended up in a walk-in, no appointment necessary, doctors' office, where they prescribed antibiotics for my red, swollen incision.

My greatest fear has been and still is infection. But for some reason it's not stopping me. I put my jeans on again this morning to attend Story Time at the local library. Sitting on the floor in tight jeans is no fun period. This was much worse. I could feel parts of my incision pulling, tugging. I would grab a belt loop to pull my jeans away from my waist to relieve the burning sensation. When I got home, I put my sweats on as soon as I walked in the door.

While on vacation, as I tried to fall asleep in my twin bed, I wondered quietly to myself if I had made a mistake. "Should I have waited to have this surgery? Did I jump in too quickly?" Then I thought of what my mind would be saying if I hadn't had the surgery. "I should've done it. It would be over by now. We would be that much closer to growing our family."

So all in all, I am happy where I am. I learned a lesson my body has been trying to tell me for sometime now - take care of me!!! Slow down!!! Much easier said than done.