This Body of Mine Was Bruised and Battered, but It Survived, It Endured, and I Was Still Standing28/5/2022 Day 28 The first steps of recovery
Five days after my transplant, I walked a lap of the ward as a physio carried my tubes and chest drain equipment. Eight days after my transplant, I had my final chest drain removed. Then I took my first shower, standing up in six months. Before my transplant, the most physical part of my day was taking a shower A shower became a chore to endure, with extensive preparation and planning. From the chair placed midway between the bedroom and bathroom as a rest point to the oxygen cranked to its highest level. In the beginning, it was a relief to sit down while showering. All too soon, the motions of washing while sitting became an impossible struggle, and eventually, a shower was a half compromise, where I would sit under the stream of water, relying on the act of getting wet to keep me clean. There was no vigorous towel rub down at the end, merely an enclosing oneself into a bathrobe, then the slow shuffle to sit next to the heater. So the simple act of standing, being able to breathe while water coursed around my head, made everything I endured on the transplant list worthwhile. Every single second. On that day, as I stood under the water, breathing in and out without a struggle, the pain seemed inconsequential. It was a most simplistic pleasure. I didn’t have to hurry or worry about each breath because these wonderful lungs breathed naturally and without effort. Afterward, I looked at my battered body in the mirror. Scars, dressings, and bruises covered my body. Yet all I could think about was how great life was — because I could breathe. With my goals achieved, it was time to say goodbye On the tenth day, Grant took me down to the carpark in a wheelchair where Monkey was waiting. It was my chance to say goodbye to my beloved dog. In doing so, it allowed her to know that I was going to be okay because my breath was sweet and fresh and no longer reeked of the decay from my dying lungs. Recovery after lung transplantation surgery isn’t a quick process Physically, my body needed to rebuild itself. Initially, with wire holding my sternum back together, I was limited in what I could lift and carry — not that it was a huge problem because my muscles were wasted and weak. My body and brain had to get used to a whole new cocktail of medications. My body simply didn’t feel right. From being incredibly attuned to my body’s needs before transplant, I was now fumbling in the dark. Every symptom had me second-guessing myself. Adding to that, my memory was fuzzy. In those first few weeks in hospital, I struggled to recall a page I had just read. But I was a reader — so I persevered even though sometimes I needed to read the same page twenty times for comprehension. Yet despite everything, there was so much joy. A simplistic pleasure came from enjoying something that most people take for granted. I could breathe, walk, and talk, all at the same time again. These lungs are magnificent. They do what lungs are supposed to do, and they do it naturally and without effort. Three weeks after my transplant, I went home I put in hours at the gym, followed by hours of walking. On the three-month anniversary of my transplant, I walked 4kms in the City to Surf. It took me 56 minutes, which may not seem like much, but before my transplant, I couldn’t walk the full 20 meters on my oxygen cord without stopping. Nine months after my transplant, I returned to my job in a school library. I’d mostly adjusted to the cocktail of medications, and my memory had returned. But I still hadn’t quite figured out this new body of mine. By my first anniversary, I’d fully adjusted to life post-transplant. I’d learned to listen and decipher my new ‘normal.’ The horrible side effects from the cocktails of medications were now part of daily life.
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Written bySandi Parsons - Cystic Fibrosis Warrior. |