One thing I have learned about medical issues: they reveal things you might not otherwise see. Let's be honest here:
- I'm really, really tired. Tired especially of hospitals and of the post-op experience. Tired of not being able to shake the constant feeling of impending doom.
- I feel guilty for feeling tired. It wasn't me who suffered a day of excruciating pain, followed by 60-ish hours without food. I'm just the person fetching water refills and taking care of scars and offering encouraging words.
- There is a reason I didn't become a nurse: I am not a nurse. I feel sorry for Kendell and I love him and I wish he felt better. I try my hardest to be nurturing and kind and gentle, to fluff pillows and hover concernedly and care about his large intestine like I should. But somehow I lack the natural ability to nurture without also feeling a little bit resentful. Mostly this is because I would like to be nurtured back.
- I feel guilty for this nurturing failure of mine. It makes me feel like a bad wife and an all-around horrible person.
- When I'm in a certain mood—that I can't take this anymore desperation—I would really prefer you not be nice to me. I know that's odd. But if it hits me at just the right spot, a kind word will totally knock me over. I'll start crying and not stop. So if we're talking and I keep changing the topic back to you, it's because I'm desperately afraid of your kindness. yes. that is weird.
- I don't want to see this, but it keeps tapping my heart: some of the people I thought had my back kind of, well, don't. I thought we were closer than we really are. Maybe that's not a fair assessment to make. But I am left with a feeling that I'm on my own that, like the impending-doom feeling, I cannot shake.
- I'm just a little bit slightly envious. OK, another weird thing to say. But part of me thinks it would be nice to have a recuperation period: ten to 14 days of mostly just lying around. Think of all the reading I could get done!
- I also feel guilty for feeling my tiny bit of envy.
- I have a wart on my forehead.
I know. That last one doesn't really fit. Except for I finally figured out what the bump was (after falling asleep in the chair beside Kendell's hospital bed and having a dream that it was a lump full of bugs) in the hospital. I don't care if it means yet another copay: I'm totally making an appointment with my dermatologist to have it taken off.
And I think I'll need a 10-14 day recuperation period afterward.
