Dude, The Drain is a Drag

My daughter is currently learning about the digestive system, which a pretty great work of ironic timing.  So my process has helped her learn about the esophagus and stomach in ways that the typical child does not.  Real life is pretty much awesome like that.

As I mentioned  before, I woke up from surgery with an unexpected new friend, the drain.  It completely freaked me out, hanging there at the end of a tube like a transparent, blood-filled hand grenade.   Eeewwwwww. And I’m not one with a weak stomach.
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I admit, one of the reasons I wasn’t in a hurry to get my first shower afterward was completely based on the fact that it would require changing the bandage around the outlet, which is a nice word for the open hole in my side.   I had some leaking from the wound and actually went BACK to the hospital and insisted that the poor tech change the bandage.  Once I saw him do it, I realized it wasn’t that big of a deal.  I still avoided it and got away with only having to change it at home twice. Quite proud of that.

After the first few days with the drain, and as I started recovering from the double pneumonia, the timing of all of this started to sink in and I found myself very aware of how minimal my suffering really is. Oh,  it was rough.  I haven’t even mentioned the issue of hemmies.  The fact that a no fiber liquid diet in combination with a week and a half of sitting, even to sleep, can wreak havoc on your rear. For me, to the point of strangulation and rupture.  See?  Isn’t it a good thing that I keep this an anonymous blog so I can shamelessly speak of such things?
Not that my suffering was minimal, but that I am a very-much-in-love-with-God  kinda Catholic and am currently walking with others through the serious season of Lent and now the Holy Week.  So for me, suffering is a learning experience and a humbling one at the moment., being on a liquid diet for weeks, unable to tolerate any food and really not caring about it!  The drain that drew literal blood and water from a wound in my side.  I was mesmerized and intrigued at the way it separated out in the tubing, a real physical change in a human body. Christ was oh, so… human. So feeling.
My chest has felt for days like I was booted in the ribs  by a gang of bikers with steel toes. Some times I look at them amazed that I don’t see bruises there (those are all over my belly, which looks like I was stabbed 7 times in a gang fight).  But it’s nothing, NOTHING.  It draws me back to amazement at the love and suffering He endured.
Easter is in 2 days!! Chocolate, candy, cakes, feasting… The only time of year that I can get a WHOLE bag of black jelly beans!!   And I get protein shakes, and pureed soups. And I don’t care.  It’s nothing.  In the past it has meant so much.

As things are getting better, and they really are,  I find myself protective of my Lenten experience that has been like no other I have ever had.  Grateful for the suffering that I’ve been through. I find myself wondering what next year will be like. I expect that I will be small, and comfortable in my own body.  I’ll be moving and have energy.  I’ll be with my family. I will never do it like this again.  And you would think I would be relieved about that. I’m not sure I am.
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