Some thoughts on that nasty word patience.

When I started doing research on having a breast reduction, etc. I found an online forum where I started posting. One of the topics that comes up almost daily is when am I going to see the results that I just paid an arm and a leg for. And the answer is usually 6-12 months, be patient, you will get there. 

So last week I was thinking about being patient. I may have been in pain and had taken some pain killers so I think most of what I had to say made sense. I got a very positive response to my post which made me think even more. I realized that my comparison related to more than just recovery from major surgery. It could apply to most anything in life where you are stuck waiting. And waiting. And waiting. With no option but waiting and seeing what is going to happen. 

My family will tell you that I must have gotten in the ADHD line when patience was being handed out. As a result I have plenty of ADHD and very little patience. I do not play the hurry up and wait game well. At all. As we all know (or are learning) recovering from this surgery is ALL about waiting. And patience. And more patience. 

I'll admit it, I'm struggling with the whole good vs. evil going on inside me. The good, logical part of me knows that there is only so much I can do to change my swelling, to change the appearance of my scar, and change how I feel in general every day. I need to follow Dr. orders, wear my compression garment, use my scar treatments, get enough rest, take meds on schedule and actually take them when I need them instead of toughing it out. Some of these things I have more control over than others, obviously. 

The evil, desperate for results now, emotional part of me wants this all done with yesterday. It sometimes asks if this was worth all the money, the time, the exhaustion, the pain? It spends hours in front of the mirror taking pictures to compare to other pictures of mine and pictures of others. It spends hours reading on the boards looking for a magical answer that I'm not finding. And mostly it puts me in an overall sour, pissy mood that no one (including myself) wants to put up with. 

As I was reading tonight, something occurred to me. This whole ordeal is no different than getting pregnant and having a baby. First, you decide that you want to have a child, or perhaps you don't decide but a higher power makes that decision for you. But lets pretend you did make that choice, you don't get to decide when you get pregnant. You can get pregnant having sex once or you cannot get pregnant having sex daily for six months. It happens when it happens. Once you find yourself hosting that alien life you start your own waiting game. There is plenty to obsess about. Your weight. Your health. Your child's health. What are you going to do to get this person out of you? 

There is a generic time frame set for how long you are going to be pregnant, 40 weeks or nine months. Full term is actually anywhere from 37 to 42 weeks. FIVE FREAKING WEEKS? Are you kidding me? That is 35 days or a whole month. Unless you are having a c-section and you get to pick your child's birthday it is a countdown to a random date that may or may not be accurate. Is it a fuzzy day out there in the future and it isn't set in stone until it actually happens. There are so many things that can change that date too. An early delivery isn't always a good thing but you are pregnant for less time. Some people have easy pregnancies and push once to give birth to the child of their dreams. Others have complications that make the entire experience miserable and count down to delivery not as much as a joyous occasion, but as a date of relief from the problems that are directly related to the hosting of that alien being. 

But the end does come. And you usually don't get the child of your dreams. Reality is that no one is perfect, but that little person you are now responsible for is as close to perfect as you are ever going to get. You are grateful for the end result and over time that waiting game becomes a memory that softens and gets a little hazy as time goes on. Usually you wouldn't trade that child for anything (though I do threaten to sell them to the Gypsies from time to time). You love them for who they are and how they have changed your life for the better. 

My point is that one day you will be healed from this major operation you decided to have. There will be a day when you don't worry if your Ken doll is looking bigger than your husband's because it has gone away. You won't be spending hours poking at your body in the mirror because the new you isn't new anymore, it is just you. You may still come to the internet but it isn't looking for answers as much as helping others find answers to their questions. You will put your compression garment away, and you won't consider stock in a medical supply company as a good way to fill out your retirement portfolio. You will walk straight with your head held high because not only do you look like a million dollars but you feel like a million dollars. You will start using your camera for pictures of the family, vacations, and life in general. Surgery and recovery will start to become a little hazy and soften up around the edges. People will ask if you would do it again and hopefully you can say yes without hesitation. 

My end results aren't going to be perfect, but I don't expect them to be either. My kids aren't perfect and I'm not sure I would want them if they were. I will learn to accept the new me just as I have learned to accept those alien beings I once hosted. Would I do all of this again? Sure would and it has only been two months. Pregnancy wasn't a walk in the park for me and yet I went back not once, but twice for the miserable trip. Would I change the way I have done some things? Yes, for sure. The same thing goes for being a parent though. We all make mistakes and hopefully learn from them. 

The magic number with this procedure is "about a year". Complications can make that longer and lack of complications can make it shorter. I promise you that one day you will be past that year and you will realize that not only did you make it to the finish line, but you won.