This post is delayed because I have been letting my thoughts simmer for a while. I had to really think about just how open and personal I wanted this post to be. I have decided that after writing so openly about my medical journey, that it would be unfair of me at this point to censor what has been going on with me both physically and emotionally.
My surgeon discharged me from the Wound Care Center on January 23, 2013. When he discharged me, I was happy that my wound was closed but also completely terrified that it would open again as it had previously. My visiting nurses continued to do weekly visits with me for approximately five weeks after discharge, to make sure that my wound didn’t open again. During that time I was still keeping the news of my discharge to myself. While a part of me was incredibly happy and wanted to shout it from the rooftops, another part of me was worried that if it opened again I along with my friends and family would be devastated and that was too much for me to think about.
During that time I was also regularly attending my boyfriend’s appointments at the wound care center so I was still incredibly submerged in wound care. My boyfriend was discharged from the wound care center on April 3, 2013 and since then his wound has remained closed. When we left his last appointment we figured that we could just get on with our lives again.
Unfortunately, getting back to our old lives would prove to be more difficult than I ever imagined it would be. My boyfriend seemed to adjust quickly, but that is probably because his wound didn’t have as great of an impact on his daily life. I however, have had more of a difficult time. First, I am incredibly paranoid about my wound reopening. No matter how many times my boyfriend and I check the area and see that it is still doing well, I cannot get the last time it opened out of my head, or the words that the surgeon said about its reopening could be related to osteo. Two weeks ago when my boyfriend was checking to see if the area was still doing well he told me that the wound was still closed but that something else had developed. I asked to see a picture so that I would know what he was talking about. What I saw was a hemorrhoid. On one hand, I was sort of grossed out by it but on the other hand, it was starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together. You may remember that I had previously seen a couple of streaks of blood after I have gotten off of the toilet but that my nurse had always said the wound was still closed. Suddenly, it seemed to me that the blood must have been coming from the hemorrhoid and that I had just assumed it was from the wound because that’s where my focus had been for so long. As ridiculous as it may seem, I was relieved to have a hemorrhoid.
My boyfriend was spending a few days with me last week and while we were having a discussion, without entirely thinking, I let it slip that I am really not transitioning very well at all. As much as my boyfriend is trying to understand, he is unable to put himself in my shoes. He said that he expects that I would be thrilled to not have to be stuck in my house any more. Logically, I get that he thinks that’s how I would feel but that really isn’t how I feel at all.
While, it is spectacular to be able to go out whenever I want to, it is also a really scary situation. I was basically stuck in my own house for the greater part of four years, unable to do much of anything. As such, it seems that I got used to being both inside and with being near only a handful of people at a time and also was very rarely by myself. Therefore, while he was here visiting, we had decided that we would be going out and doing things, partially, because it would be fun but also to try to get me out of my house. Due to his work schedule and my admittedly strange sleeping patterns he was more tired than either of us expected and so we did not really do anything for a couple of days. While we were discussing the fact that we had been stuck inside, I began to break down and try to explain that I was feeling like a prisoner in my own home and that it really stunk. As much as he tried to understand, he was unable to fully grasp what I was saying. He brought up the fact that nothing was stopping me from going out by myself and I did the best I could to explain to him that I had been with people for so long that being out of my house alone seemed daunting.
I find myself at this point wondering what I need to do to get myself out of this funk. It isn’t just that I am sick of being inside, which I absolutely am but I am also finding myself completely overwhelmed by large crowds of people. I think that it is because I haven’t been exposed to crowds in such a long period of time and that I will eventually readjust but wow, readjusting is really hard. This feels somewhat like a case of depression.
I have experience dealing with depression because I had it as a child and teenager, yet this case feels different in some ways. Depression when I was a teenager felt like I did not want to do anything at all, and it didn’t matter what I had planned for the day. In this case, I feel more stuck. Like I want to go out and do things and have experiences yet I am unable to actually follow through with plans. Maybe these feelings are rooted more in fear, than depression?
