8 November 2020
Today is laundry day, the first time I will actually use both new Whirlpool appliances to wash and dry our laundry. Same old clothes, new fresh scent. A metaphor, I suppose, for the nation at large after this election.
It's been a rough couple of weeks for Joyce.
She's reporting more pain (from nerve growth, we've been told) but it can be addressed with Tylenol. She sits almost the whole day in front of the TV, but the election is over now. She hasn't been taking a walk. She isn't eating very much (well, except for ice cream).
And she's been depressed. She had a short, monosyllabic call with Mary the other day just before she did take a walk with me, the first of the week. Then we learned we lost Rosie, the sister of a dear friend who we were both very fond of.
Salwa measured the wound Friday and said it was the same size. And, frankly, it looks about the same as it has always looked. I don't see a lot of healing going on.
But we were told to expect a slow recovery.
Her surgery created a large wound left for her body to heal. The surgery itself didn't repair anything. It just removed bad tissue. So she isn't just recovering from surgery, she's also healing the wound created by the surgery.
And she now and then melts down over having that Wound VAC attached to her, keeping it happy, getting me to change the canister every day, attending to its blockage alerts and low pressure warnings and keeping the battery charged.
But on the plus side, Saturday she did get out after that call for a walk to the market and on the way back she was stronger and felt better. And yesterday she walked around the garden and sat in the sun for a while with a glass of wine. Then she made dinner.
And all that's a little like doing the laundry, too.
You have to wash your attitude every once in a while during these long recoveries. Just to keep it fresh. So you don't miss the good stuff when it happens.
Like the birth of little Dalia* who came into the world just over a week ago.