dcnovice
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Joined: 8/2/2006
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March 13, 2014
Weary and Waiting
Dear Ones ---
This epistle is brought to you by the letter W.
For days now, I’ve been haunted by a single word—weary. It perfectly sums up how I feel: physically, medically, mentally, emotionally, professionally, spiritually. (Did I miss any adverbs?) I’m tired, and tired of being tired.
But weariness is more than fatigue. Joan Chittister, a Benedictine nun and spiritual writer, put it perfectly: “Weariness is far worse than anger. Far more stultifying than mere indifference. Weariness comes from a soul whose hope has been disappointed one time too many. To be weary is not a condition of the body—that's tiredness. No, weariness is a condition of the heart that has lost the energy to care anymore.”
Aside from the usual white noise of pain and frustration, two things particularly sank my spirits lately. Last Saturday, the warm sun looked so inviting that I mustered the energy to crawl out of bed, shower, dress, and venture out. I had lunch at my beloved diner, then headed to a nearby housewares shop. Along the way, I felt an odd sensation: My right thigh was wet. Somehow the Velcro closure on my bag had come undone, and waste was pouring down my leg. That landed me in a funk I still haven’t shaken.
A few days later, I learned, in an offhand aside from my temporary co-editor, that I'd been left totally out of the loop regarding work changes that will have a huge impact on me. Indeed, my boss has yet to mention the subject to me. What little I know I've pieced together from chats with colleagues.
In my kinder moments, I try to think that my boss and co-editor have been trying to spare me from a stressful challenge. More often, I feel like I’m trapped in an All About Eve remake. At least I get to be Bette Davis!  But seriously, there are times I yearn to say, “You know, folks, I’m not actually dead yet.” And yes, I know I need to talk to my boss about this, but I lack the energy or focus to do so this week.
That’s partly because today brought a medical biathlon. I saw the ostomy nurses because my stoma’s been hurting and bleeding. They looked things over, and said nothing seems to be wrong. Apparently stomata are like that. They also confirmed that I’m managing it properly and assured me that a colostomy will be an improvement.
The main event was a consultation with colorectal surgeon at Georgetown. He’s the one who cleaned me out and removed dead tissue when I was in the hospital last November, so we’re almost old friends at this point, and I feel confident in his care. I’d hoped to leave the appointment with a date for my next surgery, but my bottom is too inflamed for the doctor to operate now. And so we come to the day’s second W word—waiting.
The surgeon wants me to spend the next six or so weeks waiting and—Deo volente!—growing stronger. In late April, he’ll put me under for a good look with a scope. That will help him determine if I’m ready for what will be a big, challenging operation. I’ll also get a CT scan and talk with a plastic surgeon about the fine points of reconstructing my bottom. Fun, fun, fun. The surgery, whenever it happens, will likely include seven to ten days in the hospital with perhaps another week of recovery at home. That depends, of course, on how smoothly things go.
And that’s what I know right now. As always, many thanks and much love!
Cheers,
DC
_____________________________
No matter how cynical you become,
it's never enough to keep up.
JANE WAGNER, THE SEARCH FOR SIGNS OF
INTELLIGENT LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE
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DC Update: Weary and Waiting - 
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