My surgeon says it usually takes about five days for the postoperative pain to settle, meaning tomorrow. So I can go home when the pain is gone, and when my bowels are moving normally. Probably some time after Wednesday.
I said to the surgeon that I didn't know what I'd done to deserve all this. He wryly said it was like I'd won the trifecta by now, so it was unlikely that I'd get another big win (meaning that nothing else should happen now). I thanked him for removing my appendix, which means I'll never be able to get appendicitis now.
I've been feeling a bit up and down today. I slept very deeply last night and had some amusingly bizarre dreams. The pain wasn't great when I woke, but responded well to Endone. I watched a bit of ABC news 24 and caught up on other news feeds on Facebook. Then the pastoral care worker came, I didn't really feel like talking to her, and I found myself crying my heart out over the news coverage of the 25 th anniversay of the Tianmen Square massacre that was on the tv. She asked if I'd been involved (ha! Unlikely! Why should someone have to be involved to be distressed by an atrocity.?) I said it had affected me deeply at the time. I couldn't really articulate why it upset me so much. I was only 22, and the images of the peaceful protestors standing to face the tanks and the horrors that ensued have always distressed me, and I have avoided being reminded of it as much as possible. The same applies to the atrocities in Rwanda, East Timor, our treatment of asylum seekers, colonial treatment of indigenous peoples, and any other historical or recent episodes where force and cruelty have been used to persecute people whose only "crime" is to make a stand for liberty, freedom, justice.
Some family and friends get a little impatient with me when I get upset about such things, and tell me I'm wallowing in it, as if I'm being self-indulgent. I find such comments insensitive and unhelpful. I'm not seeking out these emotions, I don't seek out stories or memories of distressing events. I avoid them as much as possible because I know I usually get upset, then admonished by others for being upset at injustice,cruelty, persecution, and violence, or tragedies like earthquakes, floods, and tsnunamis that wreak havoc and suffering on a monstrous scale. I know I can't do anything to change what has happened, but the amount of suffering caused by these events causes my heart to break for those affected, and it makes me so angry to be told not to feel that way. I don't go around moping for days about it, I get over it after a little while, and I meditate on peace and freedom from suffering for all sentient beings, and that all people might become compassionate and caring about all living things.
Having people tell me I'm being silly or self-indulgent in feeling sad for all those who have suffered doesn't help me. I understand that family or friends might not like seeing me upset, but telling me I'm stupid to be upset about terrible things is insensitive and patronising. How hard is it to comfort someone who is distressed? How hard is it to sit next to them,hold their hand, put an arm around their shoulders, or simply sit with them while they have a good cry? That's all I need, acceptance and a place to sit and let the feelings pass. Not judgment and impatience because I'm not getting over it quickly enough.
I'm not trying to make myself depressed. I could have got depressed at any time over the past two years after dad died in February 2012, when my cousin Marita was dying from cancer all that year, when Ben was going to move back to Melbourne for work before I was diagnosed at the start of last year, (he changed his mind)... after all of the health complications I've had... If I wanted to get depressed, I could have done it by now. Getting upset about massacres and tragedy isn't self-indulgent - On some level, maybe I find it easier to cry over the unfairness of such things because it feels self-indulgent to get upset over what has happened to me. Despite everything, I still feel very blessed and grateful for all the good things that have happened to me, that I am still alive and recovering, and full of hope that I will continue to recover and grow strong. Crying about my bad luck isn't going to help. I don't want to give in to feeling sorry for myself. I just want to get better and get on with life.
Sometimes, though, something will break through my defences and the tears flow, or I get irritated by my mother's insatiable curiosity (why the need for all the questions, to look at what I had for lunch? Can't she ever sit still?) and I feel guilty for being impatient with the people I love the most.
I didn't really feel like talking to the pastoral care worker this morning. I could have said so, but it would have felt impolite. I've become skilled at taking refuge in my self, in creating a peaceful place where time passes slowly, where I feel calm and serene, where I can meditate on being healthy and filled with love and loving wishes for others. Ironic that being pulled from that place causes feeling of irritation and impatience. Am I doing something wrong? Or is my happy place a retreat from a reality where I'm cranky and irritable, and I'm just deluding myself?
Another person I know would say I'm thinking too much at the moment. Not very helpful. When you spend all day in a hospital room, the choices are limited: sleep, chat to the nurses, read, watch tv and feel my brain going numb, listen to music; talk to my family when they visit and feel guilty when I start to feel irritated from overstimulation; mediate, visualise good health and happiness; walk up and down the corridor, try to stay awake, watch the news, write this blog. Thinking and writing are the most creative things I can do at the moment. I don't have the energy to talk for long... It's hard to concentrate on having a conversation, and that makes me feel guilty. I should feel better tomorrow. I need to sleep.
