Last night Doug came over with a card table, table cloth and 4 folding chairs. I thought it was a crazy idea, but once he set it up, it made sense. We were able to sit eye to eye at a table and eat dinner together. Rather than me in a bed and him in a chair on the other side of the room. He put a vase of flowers at the center and we spent a good half hour sitting there and chatting like we used to at the dinner table. It was delightful. One of the techs named Chystal came in and saw us and just about fainted. She brought in another tech named Corliss just to see our set up. They're very impressed with Doug. Makes me so proud of him. I wish I had a picture of it. I'll try again tomorrow night. He's bringing a puzzle tomorrow so I should be set for the week.
One bad thing about the past few days has been that each time I get into this bed, I've gotten joint pain that keeps getting worse. It started with one knee and is now in both. Today I discovered that if I spend part of my day OUT of bed and in a chair, it's more doable - the pain comes and goes. It's the lack of movement that's hurting my knees. The mere thought of a foot rub is excruciating.
Dr. Diamond will send me a physical therapist and has given me some safe pain meds to help in the mean time. They have done wonders so far. I actually feel like my real self again. Which serves to remind me that I really am depressed. The psychological effects of this lack of movement makes you feel more self destructive, loathing and volitle. I really hope once Bimp comes, these feelings ofworthlessness will go away and the only soothing I'll need will be from myself, which I miss. I miss myself. Because I have a history of depression in my family, I am a high risk for postpartum depression, too.
I hope it will all disappear once I am mobile again and can establish a new routine once again for Bimp and his Daddy. I hope the moving around, although at a much slower pace, will do me good - give me more energy, enable me to build my life around me again. I hope to pick up where I left off.
This feels more like imprisonment every day. Remember Andy Duphrane from The Shawshank Redemption? That's what it fees like. Sure, I may have a window in my room with a view, flowers and even help from others. But my life's work has been removed, my joy, my system of work and reward is gone. I cannot value myself any longer. Temporary or not, this is the hardest thing I've ever done. And there is nothing anyone can do about it. To remind me of the person I was in the past, and that this will be over soon and that I'll have an even busier life when Bimp arrives does nothing to soothe what I'm feeling now.
This powerful article caught my eye. The illustration says it all.
5 comments:
"But my life's work has been removed, my joy, my system of work and reward is gone. I cannot value myself any longer."
I've never experienced what you're going through, so I hardly have a right to speak. BUT, right now you're growing your son, doing everything you can to help him through this--to keep him safe and well. That won't change when he gets here, either. You've signed up for a most difficult job that won't end until you do. Yes, you'll still be an artist, a designer, a pianist, a writer, and whatever else you dare to dream. But This IS your new life's work, Anne. The reward is coming.
yes, yes - I can see that. To meet him at last - to see the value in what I'm doing, the proof of this sacrifice, the product of my holding still - I have no doubt that will feel good. To watch a new person grow - that will be so gratifying.
It's the hospitalization that kills me. To be identified as a patient about to explode is mind numbing.
I'll try your new mantra out though. The reward is coming. The reward is coming.
wow, you are so close! just thinking about you. my prayers are with you... how exciting.
I too hope you can pick up where you left off Anne. I am confident that you will do that.
Your husband is amazing seeing to a need before you know you have it.
All will be well, all will be well and all man
ner of things will be well."
You are almost there Anne and you are doing a wonderful thing for your son.
I am proud of you.
That Doug is a real sweetie. What a perfect thought that something as simple as dinner together would be so special. I think the absence of sunlight is taking it's toll. Can they wheel you outside for some fresh air everyday?
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