I feel helpless…
I can’t pick up a shirt that fell to the floor a day ago.
I’m exhausted after washing my hair and attempting to cry without sobbing.
The 5 inch incision across my pelvis means I can’t get a proper sob out without fearing I’ll blow my stitches. You don’t know how many muscles it takes to cry til you can’t use some of them.
I want to get back to work, but sitting up over long periods of time brings me renewed pains.
I am embarrassed to ask for help.
It’s stupid but I find it annoying to not be able to do little things for myself. People call and ask me to call them if I need anything but, I don’t know how to make up the words to ask someone to put some socks on me or refill my flower vases or braid my daughter’s hair. I never learned the vocabulary of asking for this minuteness of help.
The surgery “went well” and I’m not entirely sure what that means but it’s what people want to hear.
Stage 4 endometriosis is never “good”. Endometrial tissue stuck on my bladder bad enough to cause problems is not good.
Ovaries that had to be released (like they were being held captive) from all the tissue that’s been growing all around is not good.
The pain and discomfort I’ve been dealing with over the last year, finally explained. And I don’t want to hear the words “at least”.
I know I’m blessed. Know that “at least” I was able to have my treatment work 13 years ago. That “at least” I was able to get pregnant. That “at least” I had a child. That “at least” I’ve had all this time without the disease that tore up my world when first diagnosed.
I know how lucky I am. But here I am anyway. Feeling helpless. Pissed off that I am not healing fast enough for my liking. Thinking about what treatment options I’ll discuss with the doctor on Thursday.
Tick tock tick tock. Will this womb ever have life again? I’ve been blessed with the bestest child ever and she is MORE than enough.
But only another woman who has had to make the conscious decision due to an illness will understand the hard headedness and indignant feelings that come when you have to make that decision under duress.
And I get back to feeling helpless. Needing to ask for help for things that you don’t even think about when you do them. Or getting creative. I pulled out a sleep bra from a bag on the floor with my toes (ain’t nobody ever said I wasn’t talented!).
I’m okay, though. Always okay. Takes more than this to keep me down, right? Praying through the feelings and for direction.
Waiting on the frog princess who hugged me this morning and asked me if she could cuddle with me when she got home. I will cuddle and it will make me feel like I’m doing something good and right and needed. And maybe then I won’t feel so helpless.