Three Seasons

I looked at myself in the mirror the other day, somewhat appalled at the pale, gaunt figure looking back at me. My cheekbones figured prominently, features I haven't seen since before my pregnancy brought a roundness to my face. My shoulders seemed bony and hunched, and my arms were covered in scars and bruises from hits and misses at putting in IV's during my stay at the hospital. I have a six-inch scar from just above my bellybutton down to just above my old C-section scar. It looks much better now that the 20 staples have come out, but still somewhat "Frankenstein-ish" due to the thin line of pulled-together flesh and the matching dots on both sides of the scar. I'm down to 113 pounds. And of course, the wretched stoma and ileostomy bag stares back at me every single day.

In the 3 weeks since surgery, I've learned to become more accustomed to it. But those first days home from the hospital were a shock because I had to adapt to having this thing on my abdomen. I know that having it means that my life had been saved, but nothing prepares you psychologically for such a major body image change. Once the surgery was over, I felt a kind of post-traumatic stress creep into my psyche. I would find myself alone with my battered body and weep bitterly but briefly, and then the episode would pass just as quickly as a rain shower might. I know that one day in the near future I will be well again, and these scars will serve as a reminder of both bad and good things about this journey. But truthfully, if I had known that my body would be so wrecked now just halfway through my 30s, I might have flaunted the slim, strong, and healthy body that I had in my 20s a little more!

I went to see the ostomy nurse, Molly, last Friday for a follow-up. She said that the stoma is healing well and the sutures are looking as they should at this stage. My recovery is coming along nicely, albeit maybe a little too slow for me. We talked again about how the psychological aspect of dealing with the stoma can be just as difficult as the physical. A flash of memory came upon me, and I remembered that in the hospital I had lamented about how this thing was just so gross, and my sister Nina responded that she thought my stoma was amazing, kind of like a "pet". We laughed about it at the time, but I guess medically-speaking it really is amazing that a procedure like this can be performed in order to help a cancer patient recover fully from colorectal surgery. Molly laughed out loud about my sister's pet comment, and I realized how crazy it sounded to a stranger even though it was hilarious between two sisters.

Everyday, I am getting stronger and getting my taste for life back. It's been slow and I've felt a little isolated here at my dad's house. But my little boys are a constant comfort, and we are gearing up for Halloween. I hardly need a costume this year since I look scary enough as it is. The crisp air and the turning of the leaves reawakened a sense in me that this disease has already spanned 3 seasons of my life this year. Once my second surgery is over and done with, I am hoping with all my might that the new year will bring good things and many blessings as a remedy for the hardship and grief that this year has brought to all of us. On a bigger scale-- the economy, the state of the country. And on a more personal level for myself, my family and friends who may be having tough times and sadness too. Life marches on and I intend to join the parade again soon!