It’s been 2.5 weeks (or so) since my surgery and I haven’t written in over a week. Nothing’s happened. That’s not true – lots of things have happened: I got my splint off, I started PT, I’ve even been out of the house a couple times. I haven’t written about any of this because it doesn’t seem like something worthy of writing. But that’s not fair to you. It’s not my place to determine whether my blog is a waste of your time or not. It’s your time to do with as you please. If you wish to read it, then the least I can do is write it.
I think the true cause of this attitude is because the depression is returning. It’s not a train barreling down the tracks at me like before. It’s slowly creeping up behind me, carrying a cloak of darkness. It’s a silent stalker, waiting for me to pause in my step, so it can work its dark magic. Tendrils of familiar sadness flowing over me, binding my arms, slowly dragging me to the ground. I’m fighting to keep moving but it’s not easy.
The physical is taking a toll on me as well. I can’t use my right hand for much of anything. My arm doesn’t straighten all the way. I can’t lift it to my mouth because it won’t go past my chest. If I try to make a fist, I can get the tips of my (long) nails to just touch my palm. Last night I was in a lot of pain. I took a Percocet but it didn’t do any good. It didn’t even make me tired.
My electronic communication is limited to left-handed typing and dictation because I can’t type or write with my right hand. It’s taken me an hour to get this far in my post. I have to ask for help with almost everything. No wonder I’m depressed. Maybe it’s situational, but it still feels the same. Wisps of darkness enveloping me, beginning to drag me into its murky depths. I feel like I am living in a cocoon, cut off from the rest of the world.
We increased my antidepressant but I have a hunch Celexa just isn’t going to work for me. Sure wish I could go back to Paxil, but it will render the Percocet useless so it’s no good until after this surgery recovery is over. I hate being so limited and dependent. I am trying to stay upbeat but it is hard. I am trying to be thankful for the small things but that gets hard too. I am thankful that I have a good surgeon. I am thankful for good doctors. I am thankful that my Dad is doing OK. I am really thankful to have a good husband. It’s the little things that help. Like knowing someone will read this – so I don’t feel quite so alone.
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