Having never felt this weak and helpless in my entire life, the recovery process began…
Ticking off each milestone one by one…
Sitting up for the first time.
Removing my nasal cannula.
Standing up for the first time… and dealing with the sudden wave of nausea.
A slow walk to the door of the room and back.
A short trip down the hall with my IV and catheter/urine bag in tow.
Removal of my foley catheter.
My first normal urination.
Switching my pain medication from Dilaudid to Toradol.
Dealing with an anaphylactic reaction (probably to the Toradol)
Drinking prune juice in order to wake up my GI tract.
My first tentative bowel movement, terrified that I would rip out the sutures that reconnected what remained of my large intestine to my small intestine.
My first solid food.
Removal of my IV.
Along the way, I derived an enormous amount of strength by looking out the window at the children’s wing, imagining that those precious, innocent kids and their parents were all far more courageous than I will ever be.