January 31, 2019

Complicated & Messy (Just the Way I Like It)

“Apparently I was complicated and messy—which honestly just feels like my life motto at this point.”

Hello from the recliner! I have no idea what day it is. January is officially the longest year of my life. But we are home, and we survived.

Overlake Medical Center was phenomenal. The nurses? Angels. Dr. Harrington and Dr. Hutter? Superheroes in scrubs. And Ted the Bartender (also known as the anesthesiologist)? A magician with meds and manifesting. He told me to picture my happy place before going under, and let me tell you—I spent the whole surgery on a warm, sandy beach. Not a dream. A full-on destination vacation. Five stars, would recommend.

Turns out I was “supposed” to be an easy case. (LOL. Do they know me?) But once Dr. Harrington got in there, things got “complicated” and “messy” and a two-hour procedure became four and a half. And still, everything went beautifully. The implant was placed on top of the muscle (yay!), which should mean a smoother recovery.

When I woke up, I apparently greeted the team by beaming “IT LOOKS SO GOOD!” while admiring my new no-boob. Yes, anesthesia is amazing. No, I will not be rewatching the video footage (if it exists).

Steve has been an absolute warrior. He slept beside me in a glorified chair, jumped to my side every time I moved, and learned how to drain and measure surgical tubes without fainting. Not as romantic as it sounds—but definitely love in its purest form.

Pain management is a mixed bag. No more narcotics for me—they gave me nightmares about bugs (ew). So we’re trying Advil and prayer. We’re off to the plastic surgeon today to hopefully tweak the plan.

The boys have been incredible. Grady anticipates every need. Garrett keeps us laughing with his wise and wild brain. My mom is Momma Bearing like a champ, and the outpouring of love has made this whole week feel like a living, breathing hug. Thank you for the flowers, food, visits, texts, and prayers. We read them all. They carry us.

We’re still in it, but today—we rest.

Even when life is messy, complicated, and totally exhausting, grace sneaks in through avocado toast, floral deliveries, and quiet moments on the recliner with the people you love.

Letter to Self

Dear Me,
Look what you just did. You stared down fear, surgery, drains, and sleepless nights—and you’re still smiling (even if it’s lopsided and pain-med hazy). You are stronger than your fear, funnier than your pain, and more loved than you can imagine. Rest now. You’ve earned every single minute.
Love, Me