Chapter 6 - I Was Running!

I can’t relate to any other personal experiences of staying in the hospital for over two nights, but I have to say this was not bad. I had three meals daily, and the dining representative asked me which sides I wanted with my turkey dinner. People escorted me to the bathroom, got me water with a straw, and even walked me around the hospital floor! I wouldn’t say it was the Ritz Carlton, but it was a good experience. I think the old Stacy would have used those two nights in the dark trying to sleep with a mysterious woman behind the curtain next to me to worry about every feeling and ounce of pain and ask the nurse…"is this normal?” Well, I am pleased to say that I did not. I slept like a baby when I wasn’t getting woken up every hour by a nurse or a doctor to check my vitals. On my second night there, I remember replaying the past two days in my head. I thought, “Geez, I cannot believe what just happened, and that I feel at peace with it!”
I remember the look on my Dad’s face when he visited me for the first time. He came from the side of the curtain in the room and had one of the most unique expressions. I’m not a father, so it is hard for me to know exactly what he was thinking at that moment, but I’ll take a stab at it. I saw him smile with happiness and pride, at the same time as tears with a twinge of sadness but overpowered by joy. He rounded the corner with a little stuffed dog that looked as close as possible to one of our two french bulldogs with an attached get-well balloon. He leaned in to hug me and whispered in my ear, “Stacy Strong!” It was one of those moments I will never forget. I said with a fist, “I did it!”. All he could do was smile.
The morning I was to be discharged, Grant and I were gathering my things, and I looked over at the little puppy dog stuffed animal my Dad had got me and smiled. It had one of those sad puppy dog faces…the kind that says, “I love you so much, but I’m sad because I don’t know how to help you.” I know now why he picked out that particular get-well gift. Knowing what to do when someone is sick or going through a significant ordeal is hard. Me, well, I want to fix everything and make it better. I think I got that from my Dad. But this time, he knew from the day I told him about the situation that there was NOTHING he could do to take away his daughter's pain. Life is not a DIY (do-it-yourself) project. You can’t always fix or even change things about your life that you don’t like, especially for others. I was so happy to see the art of greeting cards still alive every day when the mail was brought in for me. Co-workers, friends, relatives, neighbors…well wishes encouraging me to “remember that each day is a new day,” “nothing can knock you down,” “you are the strongest person I know,” or “we’re thinking of you.” All these thoughts were so encouraging as I began the recovery journey in my own home.
I think when I got home, what just happened began to set in. The day after I came home, a visiting nurse was at my home to check my vitals, make sure my incisions looked good, and ask how I was doing emotionally. She asked me if I had looked at myself in the mirror yet. I hadn’t, but I quickly glanced down at my chest as she changed the bandages. She encouraged me to do that and to grieve if I had to and that it was completely normal. I chuckled a bit after she said that and thought, “I don’t need to grieve; they’re just boobs; they don’t make me who I am as a person!”. I politely said goodbye after reviewing the twice-a-week visit calendar we had established.
When you are restricted from doing things like picking up a bottle of juice from the fridge, pushing yourself up in bed, or taking a shower, it is a whole new experience when you can actually do those things. When I could shower for the first time, I finally looked in the mirror before the steam from my hot shower fogged up my view. I knew what to expect, and YouTube and Pinterest prepared me for my reflection by researching the process. “Oh, it’s not that bad; they did a really remarkable job!” I said to myself. I accepted it and slowly got in the shower for the first time in about a week. When I say that I could literally feel EVERY single droplet of hot water touch my skin, I mean it! Everything we take for granted that we don’t even think about ran through my head at that very moment. I began to cry. They were tears of appreciation for something as simple as a shower, but they were tears of the realization that this was just the beginning. It was the start of the race in my head to the finish line, and I HATE running! I knew that for the next six weeks, as I was home recovering and getting stronger, I had to, even though I was not too fond of running. I have to jump over the hurdles; I have to run over grass, gravel, uphill, and downhill. There was no stopping to catch my breath or stopping for a water break. I could not stop this process. If I have to run, I might as well make it the best run! From that day on, if I was ever going somewhere, I was running! - Forrest Gump