Navigating Post-Op Recovery, a Flu Shot, and a Four-Year-Old’s Loving Touch

Today was a small win in my post-operative journey—I had a good check-up! The doctor said that in a few more weeks, the stitches should start to dissolve. I’m still sore, though, which isn’t surprising. The doctor reiterated again just how big and deep that cyst was. Even after all these weeks, I’m feeling it. But today, I think it’s a bit worse because this morning, I got both my flu and COVID-19 shots. 

I knew it was coming, so I asked the pharmacist to put them in different shoulders. I’m glad I did. The flu shot shoulder is a little painful, but the COVID-19 one feels like it’s packing more of a punch. There’s that lingering ache that feels almost like a bruise you keep bumping into. It feels like I have a fever, but my temperature is only 98.8°F. Nothing too concerning, but my body definitely knows something is up.

My four-year-old son has been trying to understand what’s going on with me. Over the last few months, I’ve started telling him, “Mommy’s hand hurts.” He doesn’t understand MS or the unpredictable pains that come with it. So, I try to explain it in a way he might get, but it's a challenge. My husband, bless his heart, gives me these big, comforting hugs. But even he needs a reminder sometimes that I’m in pain. If adults forget, you can imagine how much harder it is to explain this to a four-year-old.

He just wants to show love in the best way he knows how—with snuggles and hugs. But what he doesn’t understand is that sometimes those touches feel more like a nettle sting or a rough scratch rather than the gentle touch he intends. Today, I had to be particularly insistent when he was trying to put his head on my shoulder. I could feel every ounce of pressure, and it hurt a lot more than usual. 

It breaks my heart to pull away or ask him to be gentle. I know he doesn’t understand why his soft little head resting on my shoulder feels like a weight bearing down on me. He doesn’t see the invisible pain I’m carrying. But I’m doing my best to navigate these moments, balancing the need for connection and the need to protect myself from unnecessary pain.

Tonight, I’ve taken my evening medication. I’m really hoping it helps me get some good rest because I need it. Recovery isn’t linear, and every day brings its own set of challenges, especially with MS in the mix. But I’m holding onto the hope that tomorrow will be a better day. And if not tomorrow, then maybe the day after. 

One day at a time.