Recovery

Recovery: a return to good health after an illness or to a normal state after a difficult period of time

Thinking about what has been particularly challenging in dealing with a chronic illness and the associated difficulties, I realize that the recovery after being hospitalized is frequently downplayed. Not fully acknowledging the experienced trauma; not taking the time needed to recover physically or process the feelings experienced by the person who is ill, or the experiences of those people who have suffered because of my illness, has most certainly led to emotional harm.

There are many milestones on the recovery route. The removal of the oxygen mask or nasal cannula is usually the first step on the road to being discharged. In ICU, I always encounter the problem of shallow breathing because of the pain. More pain relief cannot be administered when my breathing is too shallow. So I need to be given oxygen. The oxygen mask is uncomfortable because, for some reason, it makes me feel as if I am suffocating rather breathing easier. If the oxygen is delivered via a nasal cannula then my nostrils become so sore that I have to concentrate on mouth-breathing which is exhausting. When the oxygen is removed it means that I am getting better. The next milestone is the removal of the nasogastric tube. I know I’m recovering when swallowing becomes painful and the tape securing the tube to my face becomes uncomfortable. The tube is usually removed within two days. As soon as the drip is removed, I know I will be home in a matter of hours.

And it is such a relief. There is usually great excitement and gratitude that I am being discharged. It feels as if the worst of the experience has passed. But that is not necessarily true. Getting to the car is usually so exhausting that I am tempted to ask to go back to my hospital bed. The car journey home is often frightening because the unevenness of the road and the pressure on my body when the car slows and accelerates is painful. Sometimes, I can only make it as far as the couch if my bedroom is upstairs and I have to rest and prepare myself to walk up the stairs to my bed. Eating takes so much energy and makes me feel such discomfort, that the anticipation itself is exhausting. But it is always wonderful to be back home with my family, my husband, my dogs and my children. There are fewer feelings greater than lying in my own bed next to someone I love and this is amplified by having been in hospital.

After a few days, I look less gaunt and frail and start to look and feel healthier and stronger. This, I realize, is where the denial starts. The suppressing of emotions that should be processed at this stage. Those close to me are dealing with their own trauma and it is painfully lonely because it is so difficult to be needy and needed at exactly the same time. Because the way I look does not always reflect how sick or weak I feel, there is some expectation that life can start to assume some type of normality. I cannot fully articulate the extent of the damage caused by this assumption. There are unexpressed feelings and emotions both from me and from those who love me. To tell you how much grief, loss, anger, fear and helplessness I am feeling seems as selfish as you telling me how much you feel those emotions. However, suppressed and unexpressed emotions don’t disappear, but rather become something bigger and less manageable, surfacing unexpectedly. To be physically sick and emotionally vulnerable feels impossible particularly since the seriousness of the illness makes those close to me emotionally vulnerable too. At the time, it feels unbearable, so detachment or the magnified expression of emotions in unrelated contexts occurs.

This is a difficult journey. The answers are not yet clear, though I know that my search is part of my recovery.

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Anger

Anger: a strong feeling that one has when something has happened or someone has done something that one doesn’t like

Anger is both part of grieving and being human. Anger is frequently felt not only by those of us with a chronic illness but by healthy people every day. But just as illness and health can have an effect on our lives, so can our responses to anger. Sadly, research has shown that there is a correlation between supressed anger and colitis. Responses that try and deny the wrongs that have been inflicted without processing them means that anger is unresolved.

Reading Gary Chapman’s book, “Anger: Handling a Powerful Emotion in a Healthy Way” has encouraged me to reflect on the anger in my life as well as the way anger is viewed in general.
Gary Chapman believes that when dealing with anger we need to ask ourselves what the origin of anger is and what the purpose of anger is. His belief is that understanding the origin of anger is essential to understanding the purpose of anger which is essential to learning how to process anger in a constructive way.

Anger is a response to an event or situation in life that leads us to feel irritation, frustration, pain or displeasure. Chapman explains that anger is fed by feelings of hurt, disappointment, rejection and embarrassment and that anger is the emotion that emerges when we are confronted with something we perceive to be wrong.

It is important to remember that anger itself is not evil or sinful or wrong, but that our response to anger often is.

I like Chapman’s assertion that anger’s fundamental purpose is to motivate us to positive loving action that will leave things better than when we found them. For many of us, healthy anger control is something that we learn as adults, which means we have to reset our default style of dealing with our anger.

For me, the most helpful advice he gives for people processing anger towards someone with whom we have a relationship is the five-step process:
1) Consciously acknowledge to myself that I am angry
2) Restrain my immediate response
3) Find the focus of my anger
4) Analyze my options
5) Take constructive action

When I try and apply these steps to my processing of anger, I have to deal with some uncomfortable and painful truths.

Because the onset of the emotion of anger is so sudden, I often respond verbally before consciously acknowledging what is going on inside me. That is the reason that consciously acknowledging to myself that I am angry is an essential step.

I now understand that restraining my response is not the same as storing my anger. Rather, it is refusing to take the action that I typically take when feeling angry.

Locating the focus of my anger requires me to be intentional and honest about exactly what is making me angry. I need to determine the primary cause of the anger as well being realistic and reasonable about the seriousness of the offence.

Analyzing my options helps me to take responsibility for my actions because I am not allowing myself to be a powerless victim, but rather a powerful person who has choices and options. And it is helpful to try and remember whether the options I am considering are positive and loving. This is an ongoing challenge for me.

Chapman’s book has taught me a new term and hopefully a new way of thinking and acting on anger. Forbearance. This is giving up the right to take revenge as well as refusing to allow what has happened to undermine my sense of well-being.

This is an intellectual insight rather than a practical application in my life at this stage, but I feel assured that the process has begun which gives me hope as well as allowing me to take constructive action.