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What a week this day has been

"She has good days, and she has bad days."

Bob has used this line frequently in the past few days. At first I felt like it was an oversimplification, and also a line that is used for someone with "health problems," you know, ongoing, lingering, "health problems,"not for me.

But it's true. I've had good days. Yesterday was one. I slept well, woke up without pain, felt positive, made my way through the ADLs (activities of daily living) without much issue. Bob brought me communion. I was able to begin going 6 hours without pain meds, and only used an ice pack a few times. Drainage volume was less, all was right with the world. 

The day before, not so much. Saturday. I opened one eye and knew something was horribly wrong. It was a migraine to beat all migraines. I got downstairs to take some pain pills and Ibuprofen, filled up the water jug and made it back to bed. I won't bore you with the details except to say it was classic -- massive, stabbing pain, light hurt, smells and the thought of food made me nauseous, and moving was out of the question. I spent the entire day this way. Bob brought me a piece of dry toast and sometime around 4 pm I managed to get it down. After that the pain sort of abated and I was able to get out of bed for the first time. Light dinner, back to bed early. We think it was brought on by some chemical smells in the house from some work that we're having done in the basement. Whatever the cause, it came out of the blue and knocked me for a loop.

She has good days, and she has bad days. And she has days that start out fine and somehow just don't really work out. That'd be today. 

It is a shower day, which are usually pretty good. I feel a little more human and even try and make my hair look presentable. I felt fine, really. It wasn't until my mother-in-law stopped over to pick up some meat Bob smoked for a party she's having next weekend that I realized today was slipping. "You look tired," she said. I nodded, realizing for the first time that, yes, I am. I am tired. I shouldn't be. I have spent the rest of the day on the couch watching old, black and white movies. Wanting to write an update. Trying to sleep. Watching the clouds. Wondering what tomorrow is going to be like.

One week ago today was the surgery. It sounds like forever ago, really. A whole week? Where has it gone? Shouldn't I be lots better by now? I'm sure I'm not the first person to think I just need to kick myself in my own butt and get up and vacuum the floor then make Bob a sandwich! 

Reality is, this is going to be what normal looks like for a while. I'm going to be tired. I'm going to have bad days I'm going to have good days -- which are actually worse because those are the days I want to do more but know I shouldn't. 

St. Paul had good days and bad days, too, I am reminded. 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, 
but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.
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