Fragile

Of the many things in life one can feel about themselves, fragile, is something that I don't believe that I have ever experienced until now. It's not the cancer. From the moment I thought that was a possibility, I was online, researching, asking questions. Like always I kept moving forward. The surgery, while horrible (and even if you read my description of the aftermath doesn't come close to how "kicked down" I really felt at the time), Wasn't enough to make me feel this. Coming home and finding that the hospital outside administrator had seriously screwed up and things were not ready didn't do it (It may have done it a bit to Ken, he really turned into a momma bear on the phone).

So what has finally brought you to this you ask? My skin graft! For two weeks after the surgery it lay protected in a cast. I could barely feel it. I knew it was there. Every time I have been asked to stick out my tongue, I know it's there because the skin now resides in my mouth. Much to my surprise, I didn't research this. No terrifying images on google, like I had done with the tongue. No reading. I didn't even ask about skin grafts from other survivors I'd met. In short, I had not done my due diligence. Yes, I'm one of those who believes that knowledge and education can set us free. Or if nothing else, prepare us for the worst.

I was not prepared to see what resembles a lasagna stapled to my wrist. Ever since the removal of the cast, I am hyper aware that it is there just waiting to split or tear forcing me to be rushed to the hospital for treatment. There are feelings of guilt as I look over the doggy door into my kitchen and see my pugs sad faces, pleading with me that they won't hurt me. It feels like living in a SPCA Ad. I expect Sarah McLaughlin to start singing "In the arms of the angles" at any moment. and yet even that is not enough to break the spell of fear.

I tell myself that it hasn't even been a day. Spend some time with lasagnawrist. Get used to it. I am supposed to remove the bandages several hours of the day so it can dry out (yuck). And while I did do it last night cannot seem to bring myself to do it this morning.

This is frustrating! I am sarcastic  and tough. I usually make the first joke at my own expense! I rarely get offended when anyone says something unflattering to me. I don't like feeling that part of me is made of porcelain and being a my usual bull in a china shop self, I'm bound to break it. The one thing that I hope will come of this is that I hope to remember this vividly! I want to remember the weakness and fear. Why? The truth about me is that I rather lack a certain amount of compassion. I hope that by keeping this time close to my heart I will be truly able to listen and care for others going thru this experience in the future. The people who have been there for me deserve this as I begin to pay it forward. If feeling fragile helps give a solid return on that investment, then I am willingly fragile! In all truth, I can't imagine having gone thru this alone or with no education. To the many who have reached out to me, taught me, prayed for me, light candles, danced around, sent white light,  I am truly humbled in your presence. Thank you.