Usually, Mondays are a drag, but sometimes, I’m so thankful for a new week and a fresh start. After dealing with JD’s dislocated shoulder and surgery last week, I was physically exhausted and mentally drained. I was overwhelmed, not so much because I kept busy taking care of JD, L, three dogs, and a household on top of my full-time job and the stress of finding a new daycare for L. What was most draining to me is that JD wasn’t there… mentally. It’s not much of an exaggeration to say he spent the week in a narcotics-induced coma. He was only awake for an hour or so while I was home, long enough to eat, but he was still in such a trance from the meds that he couldn’t even hold a conversation.
After the hematoma last fall and epic failure of whatever they prescribed him then, we wanted to be a little more proactive and asked the doctor to make sure JD got something decent, pointing out all of the injuries/surgeries he’s had, and how he’s built up a tolerance to pain meds. While the meds the doctor prescribed were certainly enough to take care of JD’s pain this time around, it seems we went to the opposite extreme and what he was taking was too much, even for him.
In retrospect, that may have been what made the week so hard. I had a lot going on, obviously, but when I couldn’t come home and have a decent conversation with my husband, talk through the daycare situation with him and get a valid opinion, or even laugh with him about something funny L did- when the man I know and love was there physically but was emotionally vacant, that was where my real struggle came in.
Luckily, JD made the decision to go off the pain meds on Friday. He was tired of being so out of it, and wanted to see if he could manage without them. By Saturday, he felt awful, not from the pain, but he was actually suffering from withdrawal from the meds, a testament to how strong they were, especially considering he was only on them for a few days. He spent most of Saturday upstairs in bed, and couldn’t even manage to get out of bed long enough to watch L while I mowed the lawn (fortunately, a neighbor at least did the front lawn for us, so our yard is less jungle-like). Sunday morning, I was pleasantly surprised when he got up before me, took his first shower since surgery, and offered to take me to breakfast for Mother’s Day.
I felt an enormous weight lifted off me. My husband was back, he was coherent, and my Mother’s Day was not going to be spent in post-surgery isolation. I don’t think I realized how much of last week’s frustrations had been about the fact that he couldn’t offer me emotional support until that moment. This morning I was back at it, up at 5:30 sharp for yet another full day of raising a daughter, commuter traffic, work, dogs, dinner (I make frozen pizza like a champ!), and attempting (albeit unsuccessfully) to start our goddamned mower. But all of this is far less stressful than last week just because JD is there, loving, listening, and appreciating. Dealing with the post-injury madness won’t always be easy on our household, but knowing that he’s there with me will certainly make it a lot easier.