Relearning How to Live

Up until a few years ago I was anything but a morning person. I was a night owl. I stayed up until all hours of the night, could barely drag myself out of bed and often times functioned on little to no sleep. My mother tells me I had been this way since I was a baby. When I was in high school, it was not uncommon for me to wake up 10 minutes before I had to leave the house – and a mere 15 minutes before classes started – which was just enough time to throw on my uniform of a button down shirt and plaid pleated skirt, brush my teeth, pull my hair into a pony tail and pray I hit all the green lights in order to make it to school in 7 minutes. This was actually an improvement from my early years of school when my mom would literally dress me while I was still asleep so I wouldn’t miss the bus – my mom must’ve hated me… or loved me… a lot.

And then a few years ago, I learned that I could not continue living this way. I had to drag my own ass out of bed, I had to get to work on time – a phone call from my mom on why I was late was not going to cut it in the real world. I learned to go to bed at a reasonable hour most nights, get up early to work out, shower, eat breakfast and get to work… early. It took a while to get used to this new way of living, but hey, no one every said change was easy.

After temporarily losing my eyesight and having a pretty major surgery, change in inevitable. Adjustments needed to be made. I found myself having to relearn how to do everyday tasks. I found myself relearning how to live.

Sleeping – something I have never had a problem with and something I have enjoyed since infancy – became a choir. I found myself sleeping on my side (normally I am a stomach sleeper), being careful with my movements so I wouldn’t rip out my staples or dislodge the shunt inside my body. In the first few weeks, while my mom stayed with me, I would often call for her in the middle of the night for me more pain medication or even help me to the bathroom. There I was, in my late 20s (shudder) calling for my mom in the middle of the night.

And when you are spending most of your time either in bed or lying on a couch, standing for long periods of time can seem like torture. I’ve heard of Chinese water torture before but I must admit I am not entirely sure what it entails. I can only imagine it is something like my first time showering post surgery. With hot water gushing down on me, my senses seemed to be heightened. Every drop of water felt like a tiny needle. The water was loud and it hurt my ears. The light in the bathroom was bright. And I was even more aware of my incisions then when I slept. I felt like the steam was constricting my airwaves and I was pretty sure I was going to collapse right then and there. The last thing I wanted to do was call for my mom in the middle of my shower. We had already gotten very personal in the hospital, I wasn’t going to let it get any further than that.

My walking – when I did walk - was slow and calculated. I could barely see where I was going and I must have looked drunk to most people with my constant weaving. And I could feel the shunt in my side, tugging slightly. My doctor would later tell me this was normal. To which I would tell him – I wouldn’t say “normal.” Expected maybe, but certainly not “normal.” There is nothing normal about feeling a foreign object inside your body.

Even interacting with people changed slightly. Can I joke with them about my condition? Can I tell them I puked on a nurse? Or that I can only get through my day by popping pills every few hours? Do I sound upbeat and happy? Or sad and depressed? I had been talking about condition and my recovery so much – what else was there to talk about? And do people really want to hear about it?

There may have been a moment or two where I thought I would never be able to shower without having a panic attack or sleep through the night without thinking I was doing severe internal damage, but eventually I learned – just like I had a few years ago – that I could not and would not have to live my life this way. And sleeping, showering, walking and talking would all get easier. And I would relearn how to live and no longer need to call on my mom in the middle of the night.