If you were to run your fingers through the steampunk regrowth on my scalp, you’d feel a moonscape – a field of shallow bumps and craters stretching above my right ear, back to front. It’s fascinating trying to imagine what it looks like, when I can only sense by touch. And I find myself doing that a lot, while I watch telly – like a newlywed unconsciously playing with their wedding ring – though usually I’m rubbing to relieve irritated, taut skin. I’ve been a bit slack on the papaw cream. My bad.
That moonscape is a good reflection of how life has been: up and down, moments of light and being weighed down. I haven’t felt much like blogging (or jogging), but the past week seems to have built up a ‘blurg’, rather than a ‘blog’, possibly because today is the three-month anniversary of my surgery. Hump month. BTW, I don’t recommend googling for ‘hump’ pics to accompany blogs. Trust me on this.
Neurologists are hot
I had a follow up meeting with my neurologist (well, actually there have been three surgeons, and every one of them has been hot hot hot). They all agreed, given my superhero recovery, I could start driving again, only 2.5 months post op (most often it’s 6 – 12 months). Whoo!
But honestly, I really can’t claim any heroic actions for this on my part. It’s either luck, genetics, or a no-sympathy bush upbringing that taught me to just get on with life: “No-one’s going to help a sooky la-la.” I still resent my aunt’s taunting when I showed her my blistered feet from walking through Woomera’s red soil outback, the day my cousins stole my thongs (flip-flops for you non-Aussies) and threw them into a prickle bush. Tough talk aside, I’ve had my share of days where only ice cream on a hot fudge brownie will fix the unfixable.
I’m taking part in regular surveys for a neurosurgical recovery study, which is occasionally making me stop and take stock of where I am and how far I’ve come: the monotonous ups and downs, days of lucidity where I maniacally sail through my workload, and others where I’m fatigued, restless, momentarily outrageously angry at nothing, everything – the universe for looking at me the wrong way – oh wait, that last bit is probably menopause.
I’ve clumsily broken or dropped things because my left hand is still a fuzzy work in progress. This has come in handy for getting rid of kitschy kitten figurines that well-meaning people have kindly given me. Ssshhh. And the letter ‘T’ is a problem on my keyboard. I need to consciously stop and make sure I hit it. HiTTTT iT.
But I’ve learned not to do or touch anything super important on days when I need to push through. And voilà, the world still turns without me. Who knew?
Apparently the titanium bits n pieces in my head won’t set off metal detectors in airports (bummer). On balance, the magnets in MRIs won’t blow my scalp up.
Fighting for balance
If my April MRI shows positive results, I’ll be weaned off my anti-seizure meds by mid-June. This is something I’m sorely looking forward to, because some emotional balance, where I’m not a mess at the thought of attending a social event would be nice.
Also, because this time last year, I worked my butt off at a gym boot camp (even if I was constantly coming away with clumsy injuries, as I didn’t know Clusterfluff was making its presence felt) and now all those hard-earned results have gone to pot. Meds, fatigue, comfort eating and lack of motivation will do that. Blob city.
But I try not to place too much importance on my physical appearance, because … and I’ll likely do an angry blog rant about societal expectations screwing up people’s minds, at some point … being grateful for being alive is my current focus.
I’ve managed to catch up with my current client workload, and I’ve gone hell for leather at setting up a couple of extensions for my editing business. The long-term plan is for this to give me more personal writing space. I’m still planning on launching my YA novel early this year.
Well, that’s my blurg done. Thanks for your patience with this patient. I wouldn’t say I’m in a happy place, but I’m digging deep for it. I firmly believe we make our own happiness, even if some days it’s not so close to the surface. But it’s in there somewhere – always.
Love, light and all that fluff … just not the Cluster.