I am a BAD patient...

I cannot stand to be out of commission.  I really can't.  I guess it's the rebel in me, but when I cannot do what I want to do when I want to do it, it kind of drives me insane.  Now, I don't necessarily mean when I am occupied, I more often mean incapacitated.  Sure, it's not great when I'm so busy that I can't get my laundry done, but I'm really upset when I'm sick or injured and just have to lie around and convalesce rather than doing whatever needs done.

I'm a bad patient, too.  I often oscillate between trying to overdo and underdo.  Oh, I feel better?  Let me just clean the house top to bottom for the next 6 hours. Or, no, I can't possibly put away the laundry I'm still recovering from that sneeze 3 weeks ago.  I don't want to make things worse, after all.

I am battling right now because I just had surgery last week.  It was something that needed to be done and that I had put off for around 2 years.  Not life threatening, but definitely life improving.  I'd gone to the doctor and listened when he talked and thought about things and planned.  The Hubs offered to cook the entire week following surgery!  However, I don't think I really prepared.  In my mind, somehow, when the doc said that immediate recovery was 3-7 days,  I heard, life will be completely normal almost immediately.  I still don't know where the disconnect was.  

I made menus and plans as if I would be the picture of health the Monday following my Friday surgery.  Sure, the Hubs said he'd cook for a week, but surely I'd be well enough to go to church on Sunday and take over cooking by Tuesday.  I even had unprepared veggies in the fridge, but I didn't worry.  I'll just do those on Monday.  Uh, yeah.  It hasn't gone like that.  At.  All.

I went in on Friday.  Still pretty clueless, as I found out.  I went under and, other than a small problem with my breathing tube, things went well.  It took me quite some time to come out of the anesthesia.  Maybe this started me off?  Because you see I couldn't quite understand all the guidelines and care instructions that were being given.  The Hubs was there and he listened well and, you know, cared for me.  It still created a bit of panic in me because I wasn't in control.  Of anything.

The days that followed were bad.  Not horrible.  I was getting better, but it wasn't the 'springing back' that I had envisioned for myself.  I had thought that I'd basically bounce back with little to no recovery.  I don't know where these delusions came from, but I was (and am) quite obviously wrong.

It's one week past, and I'm still struggling.  I know that I'm getting better, but it is SOOO slow.  I still have pain and swelling and other things that aren't polite to talk about here.  I haven't been to church or cooked one single meal.  It's really, really discouraging.  

But today.  Today, I got the urge to write.  I wasn't sure what I wanted to write.  I figured I would talk about recovery and praise the Hubs, and my BFF who brought me a meal, and church friends who have been ferrying Chas to and from church.  Then I started thinking about my attitude and perspective.  And my... lack of faith.  I have been horrible.  Sincerely.

At the risk of making an already long post longer, I just have to praise Jesus.  Because my recovery is going well.  I am getting better.  Things are good.  It is hard, though.  And I have to be careful because I have to strike that delicate balance between too much and too little.  Just like most things in life.

I also have to remind myself of the times when it is okay to sit and bask in the love of Jesus and when it's time to move ahead and love others.  I have to learn to be a better patient, taking care of myself and letting others take care of me, and I have to learn when to push myself forward and work through the pain.