Pain series: Part 7

Yesterday, I was six weeks out from surgery.  The time has really flown, and I’m getting so close to feeling normal. I still have a bit of pain in my legs and back, but I’m down to only taking one Tramadol a day for the last week or so. I’m so happy to be off the narcotics. They were killing my stomach, my digestion, and my appetite. I’ve lost 15 pounds so far since last year’s knee surgery. That’s helping the pain in my knee go away, which is great. Ideally I won’t have to have surgery again on it, but they did say it was more a matter of when rather than if, that they’d have to straighten my leg out. I’m terrified of that.

More than anything though, I just want my dad to be healthy right now. We surprised him for Father’s Day this last weekend, and it was so fun to see the look on his face. It was pretty clear though, that he’s in a lot of pain. He has a PET scan Friday to see if they can find what is causing the nodules. I’m hoping they find something so they can start treatment. I am having a hard time with it all, because I can’t imagine life without my dad being there. Every moment this weekend was precious with him, as every day is. 

My pain today isn’t my back or knee. Today my heart hurts for my dad. 


2 thoughts on “Pain series: Part 7

  1. I was surprised by my Baby Bird this last weekend. Normally, I am not in a lot of pain, but I was during the time of your visit. If I engage in any activity, where I will to move a lot, I find myself in wracking coughs. I can’t stop it at the moment. I slept a lot Monday, and Tuesday I seemed OK.

    I’m not interested in moving on as much as I am in continuing with life, so you can bet that I will fight as much as is reasonable. To be with you, your sister, your mother, and the rest of my family is something to look forward to and I’m not going to abandon that easily. Passively waiting for death is not something that I entertained but for a few minutes, and for a human that’s a long time, (Data, Star Trek “First Contact,” extrapolated for humans). But I’m done with that. Though my future is uncertain, it holds a promise of much fruitfulness, and as long as I can gracefully sustain that, I will not opt out.

    I am also in sympathy with your pain, and am here to blunt its force for you if I can. Pain and suffering is not the end of life, but the lesson (terrible as it might be) that grants us hope. Not every day is dark, not every night hides the stars with clouds.

    I wrote in our journal … just random thoughts, but ones that crossed my mind.


    • Of course you would quote Data ☺️. It gives me a lot of hope that you’re going to fight whatever this is off. Hope that you’ll one day be healthy again, hope for the future, and hope for the present. It was a huge gift to see the happy look on your face when I came downstairs and surprised you. Love you dad 💖

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