January 16, 2020
I am waiting for my reconstructive surgeon: more procedures, more unknowns, more nerves. This appointment has been on my calendar for weeks, weeks during which I’ve been healing… and now, I fear regression to the agony and misery of my face/body/life post-surgeries. I don’t know exactly what procedures my surgeon will do today on my eye, cheek and lip, what treatments he’ll administer at what dose or what operations he will deem necessary for early next week, all of which generates great anxiety, stress and fear — especially as I have been experiencing small but definite improvements both physically and neurologically of late. Acute and general pain have decreased, speech has become more clear, skin is mending, strength returning, even consequences of brain trauma growing less frequent and less severe — and I pray such a positive trajectory continues, with only a minor hiccup in this next week around what ‘should’ be, a phrase I am trepidatious to even put into the universe, my final major facial procedures in the near future. While I may not feel it right now, one of my best friends told me this morning that I am strong. I am a fighter. I am resilient. I am ready to heal. So it is with trust in her words, belief in myself, and love of community, as well as trust in the skill, artistry and judgement of my surgeon that I will now walk through those doors — each step on this confusing-exhausting-maddening-complex-non-linear path somehow someway bringing me closer to healing.
Also, apparently I need new organic cotton leggings. 🤦🏻♀️ They’ve become my post-accident uniform. Hello little holes!