Well, I've been trying to lay low the past few days to catch up on much needed rest. Today marks one week since surgery and my recovery is already two times faster than the last round. Cognitively I don't feel that I've lost anything and speech did not pick me up as a discipline, so that validates that belief. I woke up from surgery feeling like I had just taken a very long and restful nap. I was fully alert and oriented before we made it into the PACU for recovery. My left hand is still regaining some dexterity as typing with both hands is mildly challenging, but I am beginning to be able to tell where my proprioception is on my left side and so I can type with both hands again even if it is slow. I have definitely atrophied on my left side and it will take a few months to regain my full strength, balance and muscle mass, but thankfully I know a good PT while I wait on my orders to be processed through the hospital system.
Today is a day where I am reflecting on a few things that have come about with this new tumor. Prior to this surgery, I was angry and mean and short tempered. That anger has gone with the removal of the tumor, but the damage it did remains and will likely be permanent. As is the case with these things, I lost some more friends (and one who I considered very near and dear to me and that, generally speaking, I got along with on most things even if we didn't always see eye to eye (I was the "by the book individual and this other person was the laid back care free type). I have always been a prodder, I've even gone so far as to be perceived as a bully a time or two. I have always been the "poke the bull" and "suck it up" type individual if you will; but it was amplified two fold with this new tumor. I was short, uncouth, and flat out mean to people close to me. I knew it, and some days I could control it, but most of the time, it just came out of nowhere and steam rolled me into a level of rage I've never experienced before. I hated this me because I harbored hate in my heart for the first time ever and while I am extremely and deeply passionate about things, I've never felt hate to that degree before. That being said, I made some disrespectful comments to this individual and it was enough for this person to decide they didn't want to tolerate it anymore. I don't blame them, I probably would have done the same if I were in their shoes so I can only accept responsibility for my actions and work to learn from them. I am extremely apologetic to anyone who felt personally victimized by me during the past 6 months. I can't change the past, but I can start fresh. It's my only option. This illness has taken so many friends from me, many of who were just exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster that ensued regularly or just didn't know me well enough to know how to support me. I don't fault them, I empathize with them. There is only so much you can put up with before the exhaustion becomes overwhelming and you have to remove the toxicity from your life (I understand that more than anything). Its somewhat curious to see both sides of the issue. In a sense, it gives you an understanding that might not otherwise be achieved, but it also makes it hard because you can't explain things to those who have only experienced one side of the equation.
In the end, the ones who truly care will see you through thick and thin without question and with unwavering love and compassion (even when you don't deserve it). Those are the people I want by my side to cheer me on during the days when I can't be my own cheerleader.
