In my mind, I'm free.
I can see myself run as the wind kisses my skin, laugh until I cry and dance the night away. I walk with my usual light step, always half-hopping and half dancing as I listen to the peppy music with a wide smile on my face.
And then I open my eyes.
I find myself imprisoned inside my own, hurt body, barely able to move a muscle without wincing or screaming in pain. I need someone to help me up, someone to sit me down. Each time I move, my hands automatically hold my lower abdomen, for each step burns my insides as like hundred knives cutting me all over again.
I can't laugh. I can't eat. I can't sneeze. Or cough. Or go to loo without tearing up in pain.
For someone who has always been proudly independent and strong, do you know how that feels?
I've lost 4 kgs in 2 weeks. My hairs fall so much I expect to be bald soon at this rate. I still can't breathe in fully because of the air trapped inside me burns my lungs. And I walk like those old people, breathing heavily with each step.
I've never had a major operation before. So, save for my fear of death, I didn't know what to expect. I find out now, recovery sucks.
My brain is fogged easily. I lost quite some blood and my medications are just too strong. I hate it.
Today is the first time I get out of my home in 2 weeks. Its a fairly quick visit to the hospital. A car waits for me downstairs and its a straight 20 minutes drive, get out of the car, meet a doctor and come back.
I never knew that getting down and climbing up 2 flight of stairs could hurt as much. By the time we came home, I couldn't even reach the bedroom. Instead, I laid down on the couch and stayed in the same curled-up position for 5 straight hours. I just couldn't do it.
The doctor told me that I need to at least 1 month to be at home and recover. I can work should I choose to, but I can't get out of the house. And she removed my bandage to reveal a 10 inch horizontal healing scar on my stomach. Hours later, I ran my hand on it.
I cried quietly.
In place of a smooth skin, there was now an ugly cut line. It looked angry, red and bumpy.
My stomach still feels bloated. The doctor says that its normal, I'm still healing and that its because of my high-dosed antibiotics. I feel useless, just staying here. Mom's doing everything for me. It sucks.
I've been living independently since I was 15 years old. I've been used to doing things my way. Now I can't even wear my own underwear!!I absolutely hate it.
My friends have been coming to visit. Honestly, its such a drain. I feel obliged to entertain and talk. But, I'm just so tired afterwards.
I have way too many flower bouquets in the house, I feel like this is some sort of a funeral house. Diwali is approaching and I absolutely hate Delhi during that time. For years on end, I always travel away because I hate the sounds and pollution. That's my time for either a mountain or a seaside.
This year, am just going to sit and bear it out like the street dogs. No escape.
I detest that I can't even laugh. Or sing. Or dance. Or walk.
All the things I've loved to do, I can't do any of them now. This sucks.
I hate how weak my body has become. And I hate that I have no energy.
I can see myself run as the wind kisses my skin, laugh until I cry and dance the night away. I walk with my usual light step, always half-hopping and half dancing as I listen to the peppy music with a wide smile on my face.
And then I open my eyes.
I find myself imprisoned inside my own, hurt body, barely able to move a muscle without wincing or screaming in pain. I need someone to help me up, someone to sit me down. Each time I move, my hands automatically hold my lower abdomen, for each step burns my insides as like hundred knives cutting me all over again.
I can't laugh. I can't eat. I can't sneeze. Or cough. Or go to loo without tearing up in pain.
For someone who has always been proudly independent and strong, do you know how that feels?
I've lost 4 kgs in 2 weeks. My hairs fall so much I expect to be bald soon at this rate. I still can't breathe in fully because of the air trapped inside me burns my lungs. And I walk like those old people, breathing heavily with each step.
I've never had a major operation before. So, save for my fear of death, I didn't know what to expect. I find out now, recovery sucks.
My brain is fogged easily. I lost quite some blood and my medications are just too strong. I hate it.
Today is the first time I get out of my home in 2 weeks. Its a fairly quick visit to the hospital. A car waits for me downstairs and its a straight 20 minutes drive, get out of the car, meet a doctor and come back.
I never knew that getting down and climbing up 2 flight of stairs could hurt as much. By the time we came home, I couldn't even reach the bedroom. Instead, I laid down on the couch and stayed in the same curled-up position for 5 straight hours. I just couldn't do it.
The doctor told me that I need to at least 1 month to be at home and recover. I can work should I choose to, but I can't get out of the house. And she removed my bandage to reveal a 10 inch horizontal healing scar on my stomach. Hours later, I ran my hand on it.
I cried quietly.
In place of a smooth skin, there was now an ugly cut line. It looked angry, red and bumpy.
My stomach still feels bloated. The doctor says that its normal, I'm still healing and that its because of my high-dosed antibiotics. I feel useless, just staying here. Mom's doing everything for me. It sucks.
I've been living independently since I was 15 years old. I've been used to doing things my way. Now I can't even wear my own underwear!!I absolutely hate it.
My friends have been coming to visit. Honestly, its such a drain. I feel obliged to entertain and talk. But, I'm just so tired afterwards.
I have way too many flower bouquets in the house, I feel like this is some sort of a funeral house. Diwali is approaching and I absolutely hate Delhi during that time. For years on end, I always travel away because I hate the sounds and pollution. That's my time for either a mountain or a seaside.
This year, am just going to sit and bear it out like the street dogs. No escape.
I detest that I can't even laugh. Or sing. Or dance. Or walk.
All the things I've loved to do, I can't do any of them now. This sucks.
I hate how weak my body has become. And I hate that I have no energy.
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