Yesterday, March 28, was my four-month newest valversary. This has been my toughest recovery so far. I’ve been struggling with building my stamina, my endurance, and trying to get back into the rhythm of life now that I have a new mechanical valve that ticks along with every beat of my heart like a timepiece.
If you know me well, you know that I’m incredibly hard on myself. I don’t like feeling sorry for myself though I’ve been prone to it this time.I'm usually the one who "puts on her big-girl panties and deals with it." I've been frustrated that I’m not bouncing back as quickly as I should or expect to. Frustrated that I fell ill a couple weeks ago when I had important places to be and things to do! Most importantly, I haven’t given myself permission to be tired. A couple nights ago on Twitter I read a comment in which a young man told of his experience in which he replied to a person who questioned his use of a disabled placard. This young man lowered his shirt to reveal his OHS scar and said, “When you’ve fought the battle I have, you’re allowed to be tired.” I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve fought--been fighting-- this battle for almost 12 years. I’ve had four surgeries, counting the second surgery to address the complication the night of my valve replacement four months ago. I’ve been going to a wonderful Christian counselor for the last few weeks as I’ve been battling oppressive post-op depression (More on that later, too). Last week she commented, “You never recovered from the last surgery you had! Of course you’re tired!” I have not been giving myself permission to be tired. I saw my cardiologist yesterday morning and shared how I’ve been feeling. The same thing from him: “You put too much pressure on yourself,” he said. He then told me, “Four heart surgeries is incredibly hard on your body. You’re still recovering and it’s going to take some time.” It’s going to take some time. Hard for this impatient-I-want-it-now girl. Be still, I hear the Lord say, loud and clear. Go lay down. (I think of my sister-in-law saying this to their family dog when he gets hyperactive). And then I think of this Bible passage from Exodus 14:14: “The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.” Isn’t this true? The Lord is healing me from the inside out, much like my wounds closing from the outside in. I need only to be still, to rest, to heal. Our bodies need rest to heal. That’s why we don’t see people running marathons with the flu. OK, maybe some people do that, but most don’t. I’ve been running my own “marathon,” so to speak. Trying to accelerate my healing and meeting “prescribed” benchmarks. The paperwork from my surgeon says I should be back to normal within 6-8 weeks. When I was planning to return to work after surgery, I believed giving myself an extra handful of weeks would ensure full recovery. But it hasn't. I'm still recovering. Even if you search “How long does it take to recover from heart valve surgery?” through Google, the top result from the American Heart Association says just that: 6-8 weeks. But I’m at Week 16 and I’m not fully recovered. My body has been through an amazing ordeal. That’s what my surgeon’s nurse said to me after my surgery in 2016: “Don’t try to rush your healing,” she said, “your body has been through a tremendous amount of trauma.” Easier said than done, I thought. Yup, I tried rushing that one, too. And while my own particular CHD and associated issues don’t fit into some neat little heart box, neither does the timeline of my healing. It’s OK for me to be tired. It's OK for me to be struggling still. I'm fighting an extraordinary battle. Isaiah 26:3 Before I share my current story, allow me to share with you how I got to where I am today in March 2018.
*** I'm the youngest of three and the only girl, and if you're wondering if I'm going to unload my autobiography in this post, no, I'm not. Just the details that are relevant. My mother had me later in her life; at 37, she was in a "geriatric pregnancy" with me. My brothers were teenagers. Still, anyone can speculate all day whether her age had anything to do with my heart defect since I'm the only one in my family with CHD. (It likely didn't). During my birth, I had a heart attack that caused a stroke. I was rushed to Miller Children's Hospital in Long Beach, CA, where I spent the next 13 days in the NICU fighting for my life. Really, I wasn't expected to survive. But during that time, my pediatric cardiologist discovered that I had mitral valve prolapse, or MVP. For many, MVP is benign. For me, it meant an inevitable valve replacement in my 60s. (More than likely, according not only to my pediatric cardio but also to my adult cardios). And that was that. Despite having a weak right side from the stroke, I was an active adolescent when I ran track. And, it was at 16 when I first realized how my valve defect limited my life. My pediatric cardio pulled me off the track team during my second season because the stress of running, he said, was making my valve worse. He didn't want to have to put a new valve into a healthy teenager like me, he told me. I cried myself to sleep last night. I absolutely loved running (more on that later). For the next 15 or so years, I lived with CHD in the background. Yes, I nearly died from complications at birth. No, we won't need to do anything about my defective valve until I retire. And other than swallowing a bitter dose of amoxicillin an hour before getting my teeth cleaned twice a year, I rarely thought about being a Heart Patient. But then came April 2006. Ah, April, the cruelest month (regards to T.S. Eliot). My valve was failing. I needed surgery. I had a valve repair. I thought that was it. I'd go back to yearly or twice-yearly checkups with my cardiologist. It wasn't. After a wild variety of what I call cardiac "misadventures," buffeted by the wild winds of life after heart valve surgery, I needed a valve replacement in 2016. Ten years short of my tenth "valversary," I had my native valve replaced with a tissue valve. I thought that was it. It wasn't. I needed another valve replacement last November. This time we did a mechanical valve. I'd like to say that my life has returned to normal by now. It hasn't. There isn't "normal" anymore. No one can say that recovering from valve surgery is a smooth trajectory. It isn't. Every body is different. I had a complication the night of surgery that put me back in the operating room. (More on that later, too). I never truly recovered from my second surgery in 2016 when I had my third. So I'm going to be honest in my blog. I'm not going to sugar-coat and put cherries on top of anything, because life is not an ice cream sundae. Life is the sting of cold on your sensitive teeth when you take your first bite of said sundae. Most of all, I'm going to be sharing how Jesus is carrying me through this. How He carried me through this. I should have died 43 years ago, but I'm here to share my story and God's grace through each step. |