breakdown

I was wrong.

It wouldn't be the first disappointment. Or even the fifth. Getting one's hopes up has become an exercise that enhances neither my enjoyment of the process nor the outcome. My hopes had been so very high.

I am fortunate, in that I have a circle of very patient friends (and mom) whose TMI limits reach another universe, who cook for me (and join me in low residue solidarity), who bring me endless cushions to sit on and prop me up with, pick up the stuff that is too heavy, bend onver in my stead, keep being a positive backup even when I go black cloudy, bitch along side me when misery needs company, humor my rules and regulations, still make me laugh even though it hurts. I hope they don't grow sick of sick me.


poppies © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.


After going to the see the Butcher yesterday, I have taken some time to collect my thoughts on all the things presented me now. I went to see him earlier than expected, because, without being overly graphic, I was experiencing a symptom that would indicate something inside, at the site of the surgery, had given way.


crown © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I had struggled to find a perfect balance of ins and outs to meet the body's fluctuating needs. The never ending attempts to regulate my body's system by way of drugs, fluid intake, and diet make every swallow a calculated prayer. Will this offset this enough, or too much? I need to hold back, but how much do I need to hold back? One extreme or the other. Everything is an adjustment to an adjustment. Running theme really.


bloomers © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

After he examined me and we talked, he said he thinks we have a flap breakdown. While that, to my ears, sounds like I am disintegrating, it is more like a tiny tear, through which, only air can pass. He said he does not yet think all is lost - it should ideally still be able to scar down and heal itself, ideally. He put me back on a topical drug to increase blood flow to help the healing and said he was going to consult with a Dr. M, another colorectal specialist, about my case and ask her if she thinks I should have some ultrasound diagnostic studies, to see if we can locate the tear since she does most of the specialized ultrasound work in Philly. He told me I am his project. There was a colorectal conference a couple weeks ago and he said they were all swapping notes on their approaches to fixing their own patients with this particular problem. No definitive answer. No news to me there. Though apparently there has been some work done using sheets of porcine intestine as a bio-medium. Anyway I have been having some other unspeakable problems to which The Butcher responded that we might have to have a much more radical surgery to correct, should I not bounce back.

I am putting that out of my mind completely as of now, and will not consider it one more time until I absolutely must.


wardrobe whirlwind © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

In the meantime, stay on the low residue diet. Continue to rest and only do what you feel comfortable with and I will see you again in five days. I am filling in my partner on your status, as she is on call this weekend, so in case anything happens, she will be ready for you. I'll call you tomorrow once I talk to Dr. M about your case and see what she thinks.

Dr. M seems to think there is a good chance it will scar up on its own and be done. Give it a couple weeks and just let it do its thing. If it does not... do not put another drain in, work with the new smaller hole... but you must wait at least a month so the tissue has time to soften. And then nab it.

This labyrinthine explanation leaves the path of my recovery as vague as it ever was. After now 17 months, give it some more time. Tried and true. So I am sallying forth... meeting each day in bed with wild horizontal zest. Obsessively checking my inbox for the notes from friends, hopes of sales from etsy to tide me over while I am incomeless, IMing at all hours to fill the quiet void occasionally filled by visits from friends, Michael, and my nursekitty Maggs... reading, looking at photos, watching movies, working on projects, losing my mind a little bit at a time. I did spend half an hour the other day walking around the bedroom taking photos, which accompany this entry... the rules of the exercise: {a} do not leave the bedroom {b} do not bend over {c} do not make a mess you cannot clean up yourself. I've been stuffing my face with every starchy carb catastrophe I have always wished to indulge but couldn't bring myself. Who is having mountains of french toast for brunch, bagel chips for a snack and pasta for dinner on top of liters of sugary fruit juice beverages and sodas? In one day! This girl is. Who is watching their body go weak and doughy in the meantime?


kitty in kittybed © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Tonight I drove for the first time in over a week, on my way to the first art fag night in some time. Shanners, Michael, Shua and I feasted on sassy low residue scampi prepared by Michael. It was great to be out of the house finally, but the general morale of the group was low due to our combined personal turmoils... and despite the deeply cushy couch, sitting upright for 3 hours was more than I could bear.


stolen from the north of england © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Two codeines later, for some reason I am still awake, albeit with one eye open. The next time I write I'll attempt to have something more uplifting than this cranky I've been in bed for 9ish days, I'm stiff and bored drivel. Maybe with a few less drugs in the system I'll be like a different woman.