"How am I gonna be an optimist about this?"

That title is from the song Pompeii. I don't usually use song lyrics to title my pieces, but it felt terribly appropriate. Thanks Pandora.

 

On my slow road to recovery, the past eighteen months have been, more than anything else, all about me.

Because they had to be. I'm  not used to that.

Sneakers. But a good day!

What hurts my heart is all the lasting damage from a silly broken leg. I try and stay positive: The second surgery helped! I don’t need a third! I’m taking a break from these crazy nerve blocks. I’m walking further, more freely!

Truth be told, I still feel wrecked. Despite the intense physical therapy. Despite the acupuncture. Despite the fact I only describe the sensations in my leg as pain when I’m working with doctors and health care practitioners. I just want these sensations to be that. I don’t want to categorize the discomfort as pain. It’s relatively easy to compartmentalize because I don’t really have a vocabulary for these sensations.

When a neighbor, a friend, a colleague says, “Oh! You’re walking. How are you feeling.” And I say “Better” I realize I have to clarify. My better is somewhere near 75% … It’s better but not best. And that’s frustrating. Some days are on the better side, and others are far worse.

And more than anything else, it makes me mad. That frustration, coupled with the side effects from the medication that barely works is often enraging. I’ve gained forty pounds. Hardly any of my clothing fits. I have, at most, ¼ of the energy and enthusiasm I’m known for.

I’ve wondered aloud to friends who might know, “Is this what depression feels like?” It’s possible my need to slow it down is the outcome of the pain. It’s possible this is a cyclical (unidentifiable) cause and effect. The medication has a mood related side effect. But I think it really is mostly physical. I needed a full day to recover from vacation while I was still on vacation earlier this month. I’d walked a lot at Jazz fest. In sneakers, of course.

Fading scar...

While in the happiest place I could be, and feeling thoroughly happy, I was still exhausted, so that was a good way of checking in for me. My body is still not what I want it to be. I’m healing in measurements that aren’t significant enough for me to record daily. If I were just getting one thing right consistently, I might feel stronger. I can't focus on writing, I have to practice yoga in a modified way, my attention span is far shorter, standing to enjoy anything is, simply put, immediately exhausting (particularly if I'm not medicated).

So I’ve found myself turning further inward, not because I don’t appreciate my relationships, but because I don’t have the energy to push them along. That ball has to stay out of my court. And I’m ever so grateful that so many of my relationships have weathered this very long storm. I hope you all can hold out a little longer. My body and I, though still disparate, greatly appreciate it. I hope to be able to celebrate with a trip where I can horseback ride, and eventually, perhaps, skate the streets of NYC again.