The Prometheus Stage

It took awhile for me to feel like writing again, but it’s been almost four weeks since my surgery, so I thought I’d write another post. I like thinking of my recovery as “The Prometheus Stage”.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prometheus

Why, you may ask? Certainly not because I’m a goddess or immortal. Before I had surgery, Dr. Kooby told me that although he would have to remove about 70% of my liver, it would grow back to 90% of its capacity within about two months after surgery. I was dumbfounded. He then asked me, “Do you know the story of Prometheus?”

Still a bit confused, I asked, “The one from Greek mythology? The one who brought fire to Earth?”

“He stole the fire from the gods,” Dr. Kooby said. “And as punishment, he was chained to a rock…”

“… and the eagle would pick out his liver,” I said, finally remembering the story.

“Yes, and every day it grew back,” he finished. “I’m not sure how much the ancient Greeks actually knew about the liver growing back, but it does regenerate.”

Don’t you think that “the Prometheus stage” sounds much better than “recovery period”? I am now at the stage where my liver is growing back. Everyone I tell about this is amazed, as am I. Another interesting fact is that although it will grow back to about 90% of its original capacity, it will be a different size and shape. It should also grow more toward the center of my body, as opposed to the right side, as almost all of the right lobe is gone. Is that wicked or what?

The Prometheus stage is going well. Every day I am getting better. I can get around pretty well by myself, I walk a bit further every day, and I can now do stuff like reach overhead and blow dry my hair by myself. I even loaded the dishwasher last night! However, I’m still very limited in my range of movement. Getting in and out of a car is extremely uncomfortable. The hardest part about this whole experience is that I can’t pick Gabriel up, so I can’t do all the mommy stuff I did before I had surgery. I know this too shall pass, and I’ll be able to pick him up again in a few weeks, but it is unbelievably difficult not to be able to pick him up when he cries or take him out of his crib. Whenever I whine to Danny about how hard this is on me, he says, “Well, honey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not planning on touching this kid for weeks after you’re able to pick him up!”