Newscoma Has Moved
Monday, November 06, 2006
  Reflections You know, anytime you feel like your life is a pile of steaming dog waste, there is always something that comes out of the hidden shadows to show you that life is pretty good. I'll be honest, when I found out that I needed surgery, I was nervous and I felt sort of silly and unnecessary. After the surgery, I was honestly rocked. There were small yet significant complications that sent me reeling. I honestly thought I had done my homework, but I hadn't. The hysterectomy actually went as well as they all do, but then with the addition of having a bladder sling put in compounded the situation. The week of surgery, I was so drugged I didn't know if I was coming or going. Last week, I started to feel better, other than I started spotting and had developed an infection. Fortunately, the problem has been dealt with additional medication. On Friday, I started feeling stir crazy. I felt isolated and out of the loop. I'm normally a pretty social person, so having only me, myself and I as company for about two weeks was oddly disconcerting. You see, you can't run from yourself. And when taking a long look in the mirror, sometimes the bumps and wrinkles (to paraphrase Kathy T.) just come bubbling to the surface. Some of it wasn't always pleasant. The other thing is this, as I've known most of my adult life that I could not have children, having the hysterectomy set a finality to my childbearing years. I know that may sound strange, but it did. One of the last things my mother said to me before she died was that I would have made a good mother. Those words stay with me. But that is something we will never know. You see, being human is weird sometimes. We grow, we adjust to the issues we have in our lives and we accept. But the surgery, and probably the huge amount of drugs, has had me contemplative about many things. Being in my early 40's all of the sudden has weight for me. I kid about getting older, but I am. I think about where I'm going to be in ten years. Then I read about the absolute devastation of a family facing the unknown which is a life and death struggle over at Atomic Tumor. What I've discovered from this couples terrible run of luck this week, with a man watching the woman he loves lie in a hospital bed. He signs off every post, which is raw and real filled with grief and fear, that he loves his GAC. He loves her so much that you feel it when you read his words. You see, my fears have been somewhat silly. I'll be back at work part-time in the middle of next week. The little bit of life I've carved out for myself will be put back into place. The pain I've felt is already abating. RQ took me out for a little while on Saturday and we went and visited her mother yesterday for a little while. Did I overdo it? Yes. But I'm healing and it was good for me although at times I felt socially inept. Having read AT, I realize how luck I am. That maybe God isn't finished with me yet. Yeah, there were complications with the surgery, but they are fixable. I hope she is fixable. I have never met these people, but for some reason they have touched me and helped me through what I thought was difficult. I have been wraught with fear. But you know, I was wrong. I'm doing what the doctors have told me to do. I'm feeling better and I can already tell the surgery had accomplished what it was supposed to. I'm going to have some visitors this week. I'm going to see my father honored on Veteran's Day. And things are looking up. Aunt B. wrote in one of her comments sections to me this:
Newscoma, I'll just mention this because I feel compelled to--often times, when one is being initiated into holy work, they will undergo an experience in which the gods split them open and rearrange their innards and put them back together. After this long ordeal, the person begins his training as a shaman.
I dig that. Thanks Aunt B. I have no idea about holy work (for some reason this makes me delighted) but for the first time in a couple of weeks, I'm eager to learn and be grateful. And as for our brothers and sisters over in Oak Ridge, I wish you the best. I wish you peace and all though I'm not very astute at prayer, I'm offering some for you. Be well. 
Comments:
What a beautiful blog.
We truly are a community and family, reaching out thru the written word. And we help to heal one another.

Aunt B's words were lovely. When we rise up as 'Wounded Healers' we have empathy for the human condition.
Thanks for sharing..
 
Aaaaand ... breathe out. It always amazes me that we're all alone, yet we aren't. Thank goodness for having people to love us.
 
being a human is weird ALL the time, isn't it? one of the things I like about it to be honest.

as for being "split open and rearranged", yep. maybe that weirdness is what allows for such molecular upheaval.

and thanks for sharing with more folks about AT and his wife GAC. can't help but think that more minds tuned to their problems may keep them both safe.
i sure hope so. it will be a long and hard recovery at this point.

his courage and that of his wife and kids and family makes me feel like a colossal chucklehead. that perspective thing can really whip up on us sometimes and usually its a good thing that our view is knocked askew.
 
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