It's October 9, 2015 and I haven't written on this blog in a VERY long time. For those of you that know me, 2015 has been a CRAZY Year. But since this blog is about me, I can only focus on my journey, so here it is.
I was preparing for bariatric surgery the last time I posted. I'm SO GRATEFUL to report that the surgery went off without a hitch on November 24th, 2014. Surgery was 11am on Monday and I was home by 8pm Tuesday. The worst part was the gas they have to use to inflate your abdomen to see around in there. It truly does have to come out one way or the other, which can be uncomfortable. But for the most part I have been free from complications or any serious side effects. How lucky am I????
With surgery being November 24th, I looked to the New Year with renewed optimism and hope. January 21st my father was hospitalized with what turned out the be stage IV metastatic colon cancer. It felt completely out of the blue. His first major hospitalization was 71 days. For a died in the wool Catholic girl, all I can say is OY! If you don't know, there's nothing so exhausting as sitting beside someone you love so dearly watching them be sick. I thought I knew tired....I had no freaking idea what that was until this happened. The anesthesiologist advised us because of the emergent nature of the surgery there was a 50/50 chance dad wouldn't make it off the surgery table. As the surgeon came to speak with us after the surgery, the anesthesiologist walked by, stuck his head in the waiting room and just said, "Man your dad is tough". You got that right! The now named Honey Badger walked through major surgery, a cancer diagnosis, wound care for an 8" incision for which he'd prefer a sexier story to explain, physical rehab and having to start chemo. He did it without complaint and with the constant concern of not being a burden to his family.
As the person who lives with my father, I had absolutely no reservation about doing whatever was needed to help care for him. I am an unashamed daddy's girl. He's truly the person who taught me about unconditional love. I do however, have physical limitations that made this journey more challenging. It's been a steep learning curve on balancing self care with care taking. The old analogy of putting your oxygen mask before putting your child's on, definitely applies.
I am so very grateful and surprised by what I've been able to do on behalf of someone I love so very much. I have two words for you: COLOSTOMY BAGS. Speaking of steep learning curves, there's just no way to explain what a challenge that is to get into the groove of that whole experience. I'm exceedingly grateful for my sense of humor. My mantra became, "In case my father loses his S%*T, it does not mean I get to lose my S%*T". There's a lot to be said for humor in the face of things that are difficult, painful or embarrassing. There's a gift in caring for those who've cared for us.
More than anything, it taught me about the importance of ACTIONS. It's truly not what we say or what we feel it's what we DO. I am someone who gets plagued by inertia frequently, so to have to walk through the daily business of putting one foot in front of the other, and do the things I don't necessarily want to do, gives me reassurance that I will be able to do that for myself more than I have in the past. As an Irish girl, I've realized that there are times when I'd prefer to stick sharp objects under my fingernails rather than ask for help. My village has bridged the tricky traverse between granting me space, and offering help, to insisting on help should I become a wee bit stubborn. (Me, stubborn?...NO WAY!...lol).
My father has had a lot of challenges this year. Three separate hospitalizations for complications of the chemotherapy and a difficult decision to end IV chemo in favor of a shorter but richer life expectancy. I've watched with a lot of admiration and even sadness as he asks what he did to deserve me caring for him like I have. I watched as he's lost his enjoyment for food. You know a person's taste buds are shot when Oreo's aren't appealing. But I've also watching him poison himself with toxins to stay around those he loves. I've seen him be more motivated than most to be present.
My weight has become a truly secondary part of this journey. I'm very grateful I decided to do the surgery when I did. I'm also grateful in some ways that I had something else to focus on this year, or I could have become quite neurotic and obsessed about what the scale said.
I'm so glad to be on this journey and grateful you're willing to travel the road with me. As always, thanks for reading.
