Valley of Despondency

Here I am again! On familiar ground.

Like last year, after the op, I find myself in the Valley of Despondency again!

In the past few days, I found myself, once again, tumbling helplessly down into that dreaded valley. I don't wish to talk to anyone. I don't want to see anybody. I just want to sleep. I just want to crawl into my cave and hibernate. I don't feel very sociable. I don't seem to have the energy to do anything, nor do I seem to be interested in anything else besides sleeping. I've been down this way before. I know this place! And I think I know how I got here...

Just like last year, upon discharge from hospital, I found myself struggling and floundering in my attempt to cope at home. Even though my care-giver is doing an excellent job at caring for me, as well as in taking care of all other matters, I still find myself stretched to the limits in trying to deal with all that I have to personally undergo each day.

For a start, settling back home upon my discharge from hospital was quite an unsettling experience. Ergonomically speaking, hospital furniture and equipment had made my life, while at the hospital, quite comfortable and had all my needs met efficiently.

Whilst at hospital, brushing my teeth, going to the toilet, bathing and even dressing independently was quite effortless. Having come home, every single task, even something simple like brushing my teeth after a meal, becomes a bid deal. It really takes so much effort to get by daily. It all adds up and by the end of each day, I feel sapped of all energy!

By the end of a week or so, my nerves are frayed and I feel myself sliding down, lower and lower, slipping fast and furiously into that despondent valley yet once again.

Now at home, confined to my bed, and not being able to move about freely, my body has to acclimatize to an even more sedentary pace than my usual 'already-very-laid-back-and-unruffled' pace. In my present state, I think even the Sloth has a definite edge over me. Confined to the bed and my bedroom, I can't do very much - at least not as much as I would be inclined to.

Mentally and emotionally, this can be torturous! For example, the other night, while the rest of the family was watching cable tv in the living room, I wanted so much to be with them and to have a share in the fun and laughter, but I simply couldn't.

Well, they did offer to give the tv programme a miss and to stay with me in the bedroom to keep me company, but I turned down their offer because I felt bad about it. It would not be fair to them if they had to, on my account, give the programme a miss simply because I was lonely for their company. It would be too selfish of me to agree to that.

Why couldn't I join them in the living room? Well, it's for the simple fact that I can't remain seated upright for too long before my leg starts to hurt. After every 20 minutes or so of sitting upright, I need to stretch out my leg on the bed and to lie down again.

I miss the freedom, the spontaneity and the ability to instantaneoulsy translate my thoughts into action. The likes of the following scenario have been played out daily in painfully torturous regularity : "Ah! I would like to write a 'thank you' card to So-and-So...but ARGH....the cards, envelopes and stamps are in the study room!" or "Oh! It's starting to rain...I've got to shut the windows...ARGH....I can't get out of bed! Even if I do manage to hop there with the help of my walking frame, I can't keep my balance long and well enough on one leg to lean out to grasp the handle and pull the casement window inwards. I can't risk a fall! OH! Let it rain! Let it flood! I can't do anything except wait till my care-giver returns from the market."

You may ask, "Why didn't you think of having the windows shut before letting your care-giver leave the house to do the grocery-shopping?"

Well, you think about it yourself. If you were me, would you not rather take a risk and have them left open to let in some fresh air and sunlight since the bedroom will the only place you would find yourself stuck in the whole day long? Who's to know that the bright sunshiny day would turn grey so suddenly and so unpredictably soon?

Like last year, my body has to, once again, get used to the fact that it has only one good leg to get me moving from bed to the bathroom and back. My mind has to be alert at all times : Keep that left foot off the floor! Any lapse in memory is promptly punished with a sharp excruciating pain that shoots up from the foot to the hip! How I dread those unavoidable trips to the bathroom!

Bathing has also become a major project! I need 5 minutes to wrap my leg in a plastic bag, 3 minutes or more to hop to the bathroom, 2 minutes or so to get undressed, another 2 minutes or so to manoeuvre and hop carefully into the shower area and another 2 to have myself seated safely and comfortably on a stool under the shower head. After the shower, I take an even longer time to get dry, dressed and out of the bathroom, having to be even more careful since the floor has become wet and slippery in the shower area.

It's really no joke to have to hoist myself up and over that curb between the bathroom and the bedroom, taking care not to hit the left leg against the curb, the floor or the doorframe, and being mindful that I must not flex that knee beyond 30 degrees.

For someone like me who has not been particulary muscular or whose muscles are not exactly in the prime of their fitness level, having to heave myself from bed to wheelchair and back makes hard work.

The muscles in my shoulders, my arms and my upper torso have been screaming their protest from having to lift me off the floor with every hop that I make, using that U-shaped walking frame. My good leg is starting to join in the protest. It is starting to complain about being over-taxed!

After last year's experience, I had actually planned to commit to an exercise programme to strengthen those arm and shoulder muscles before I was faced with this year's operation. However, somehow those wise plans were foolishly shelved. Now, I really feel like kicking myself -if I could- for not having followed through with my plans!


All these, so far listed, are still quite bearable! There are yet other "crosses" to bear!

The hardest of all is bearing the pain that strikes every night. Yes, it comes without fail and it is punctual almost to the dot, despite my having taken the pain-killer submissively and faithfully.

Each night, at around 3.00am, excruciating pain strikes!

Like last year, that same kind of pain attacked at around the same time. But unlike last year, the pain this time would not go away at 5.00 or 6.00 am, but would linger on till around 7.00am.

Last year, when I was in pain and could not sleep because of it, I was driven to much frustration, depression and even envy. This time around, I tell myself not to get agitated. I keep reminding myself, "You don't have to go to work tomorrow. You can always catch up on your sleep then. So, don't get all worked up now! Just relax as best as you can, and shift your thoughts away from the pain. Focus on some other thoughts!" And I pray. I pray for myself, for family and loved ones, for friends and for people whom I've read about in the newspapers daily. This way, I find myself coping slightly better in the night than I did last year.

The difficult part comes in the day time.

When I am sleep deprived, I am easily agitated, highly irritable and can become quite dense and zombie-like in my thinking. I find myself becoming inpatient with and easily angered by the antics of my (hyper)active house-bound little boy who is having his school holidays.

I don't like myself when I am sleep-deprived.

I try to catch up on my sleep, but I find it a futile task -catching up on sleep.

When the pain eases off at around 7.00am, I drift off to sleep only to be awakened at around 8.30am by my son and by Glass, my dog, who both want my company and attention. If I were to ignore them and continue to snooze, others would soon join forces with them to drive me out of Snooze Land! If it's not one member of the family coming into my room to get something, it would be another; or it might be some jarring environmental sound that somehow manages to invade and rob me of my peaceful sleep. The worst is when the phone starts ringing.

The phone. That dastardly thing!

Every other morning, my father-in-law would ring me from the coffee shop or from the market at around 8.45am or at around 9.30am. He would ask me the same questions, "What would you like me to buy from the market? Would you like some apples, or kiwi fruit, or pineapples? Would you like me to buy some carrots, corn or some Chye Sim? They're really cheap today. Too cheap to give it a miss and not buy some!"

SIGH! Then I'll have to tell him for the hundredth time, "We still have lots of apples, kiwi fruit and pineapple AND bananas AND oranges AND carrots AND corn AND Chye Sim AND cabbage AND lettuce AND tomatoes...we DON'T need anything from the market. Thank you, anyway."

And in my heart, I'll be pleading with him, "Oh! PLEASE, THERE IS one thing I need : SLEEP! Can you please let me sleep?"

Now, Dad and Mum, don't get me wrong. I am not being ungrateful. I really do appreciate you. I know that offering to buy the groceries for me and my family is your way of demonstrating your love, concern and support but your kind and thoughtful act of love does not meet my need.

I need sleep more than anything else.

If only you would leave me alone and let me sleep, that would be a far more desirable way to demonstrate your love and concern. You see, when I am well-rested and cheerful, I will in turn be a more pleasant, patient, affectionate wife to your son, and mother to your grandchildren!

Then there is also the steady flood of phone calls from friends which I have to deal with.

The phone rings incessantly and it is simply impossible to sleep or stay asleep.

I know my friends are concerned. I know they mean well. I am thankful for having such kind, caring, thoughtful and supportive friends. I cherish them and I am grateful for them.

However, as much as they need to express their love and concern, I need my rest and to catch up on my sleep. And how am I supposed to sleep if I have to keep answering phone calls and repeat myself over and over again dishing out the same information to different callers because individually and at different hours of each day, each of them call me to ask about my hospital experience and about how I am coping at home.

In my desire to remain a good friend, to be civil and polite, and in my anxiety to let them know that I do deeply appreciate their love and concern, I find it hard to reject their calls or refuse to entertain them when they want to visit. But to take all the calls and to receive visitors every other day or so, it robs me of my energy which is already quite depleted by my sleeplessness.

I need SLEEP!

All you friends out there: Thanks for being such a chum and I know you love me! The best way you can love me is to let me sleep. Give me time, give me the personal space, give me the privacy and leave me alone. Boleh?

I know I sound ungrateful, but I'm not.
I may be selfish, I'll have to admit. I'm sorry about that. I truly am.

I acknowledge your dire need to express your concern and your deep desire to give me support in my hour of need, but if I were to give in to worrying about meeting your need, I would become less able to address my own.

I find myself having to be mindful about not hurting your feelings or making you feel rejected by refusing your calls or to have you over to visit. This is making me very stressed out!

I find myself having to dodge your phone calls because I don't know how to say, "I'm sorry, I need to rest and I can't talk. In fact, I don't even feel like talking to anyone. I am in pain and I am only anxious to catch up on my sleep. I don't feel like doing anything else, let alone chit chat on the phone or to play host to visitors." I can't tell you all this. So, each time the phone rings, I feel frustrated and upset. It's really stressing me out!

I wish I had the courage to tell you directly. I know that if only you knew, you would let me off and give me the time, the privacy and personal space. But, I just don't know how to convey my true inner feelings, without running the risk of hurting your feelings and our friendship.

So, hear me, please. Listen with your heart. Hear the words that I find hard to tell you.

I NEED SLEEP. LET ME SLEEP.

One or two of you have been coming at me ever so strongly, telling me vehemently that, in your opinion, I am sleeping too much! That I should not focus on the pain and that I should just snap out of it. "Mind over Matter!" you tell me. "Find something to do," you say, "the day is not made for sleeping, but the night!"you chide.

To you who have been able to sleep at night, you may think I am sleeping too much. You may think it's unhealthy for me to sleep so much in the day. You may think you are doing me a favour by keeping me occupied in the day so that I won't sleep so much. You may imagine that you're doing me a world of good by trying to make me see that, besides sleeping, I need to do something else to keep my mind occupied.

You just don't understand!
If I DON'T sleep in the DAY, and I CAN'T sleep in the NIGHT, I just won't be able to get any sleep at all. And if I don't get enough rest, I don't see how it could do me any good at all!

While you are sleeping at night, I am WIDE AWAKE. I do not count sheep while I am awake. I deal with the pain....EXCRUCIATING PAIN.....something which you may not know unless you have had a similar operation and unless you were me, "in my shoes", so to speak.


So, don't tell me that I am sleeping too much just because I sleep in the day!


Don't tell me anything. Just let me be. Leave me alone. Let me sleep!

Thank you.


Actually, now that I have learned much from personal experience, if and when I next relate to other newly-discharged-patient-friends, I would demonstrate my love and concern by granting them personal space, privacy and time for rest and for healing to take place.

I know I would feel a need to express my concern and support, but I would translate that feeling into actions that are appropriate and which would meet my friend's need in a more pragmatic way - I would stay home, send my sincere get-well-soon wishes via a card or via sms, and give daily support by commiting myself to uphold my needy friend in consistent earnest prayer. Instead of calling to ask if he/she has any prayer request, I'd let the Holy Spirit lead and prompt me.

I thank God for giving me this experience. Having helped me through this, He has given me greater insight and He has enabled me to better understand the needs of someone who might be going through similar situations.


Dear God, my dearest Heavenly Father, my loving Abba Father, you are wise and gracious in giving us your holy spirit to help us and to teach us to pray. You who are omniscient, in your infinite wisdom, you are able to, and you certainly do, lead us in our prayers...and those moments spent in prayer, talking to you, those are indeed some of the sweetest moments of my time spent on earth! How I thank you for granting me the privilege of coming to you in prayer!


I'm thankful that you are not some distant god sitting high and mighty and aloof out there in outer space, watching impassively as we struggle here on earth. No. On the contrary, you are very much involved in our daily affairs, lovingly helping us through and saving us from ourselves and from sin and destruction.

Thank you, Father. You are so much a part of my life. You ARE my very life.

Without you, I perish!

Please grant me patience and strength as you continue to journey with me through this period of time. Grant me healing and full recovery. Help me to be loving, gentle and considerate in the way I relate to all my friends and loved ones. Help me to be patient with myself. Help me to ever trust in you and to obey your leading each and every step of the way.

Lord, keep my good leg healthy, fit and strong so that it will continue to support me well as I hop around on it. Thank you, Father.