It’s evening and I am eating pistachios. Pre-dinner time. Apéro. Pitch black outside. It’s an evening in November, but I probably couldn’t tell you exactly which day without looking at the calendar.
For the past three weeks my days have been floating into each other, becoming so entangled that Monday might as well be Saturday. My perception of time has reached a new dimension: one minute is not always one minute. But to say that time has passed slowly would be a lie. I have never quite understood the concept of being bored and these past weeks have once again confirmed that.
Believe it or not, post-surgery recovery can be compared to a full-time job. There are the rehab exercises to do several times a day, the visits with the physio several times a week, and not to mention the fact that the smallest task takes about five times longer to complete when you’re on crutches. But you find ways, you get creative to feel somewhat normal, somewhat capable, somewhat independent, by pushing a chair with supplies (coffee, plate, cutlery, salt.) between the kitchen and the cupboard or doing supine sun salutations (that was certainly a first for me). Non weight-bearing situps. And in between those adventures, you try to find meaning in other ways than you’re normally used to. I tend to find mine in drawing, a passion that unfortunately is mostly dormant, but that awakens every now and then - especially if I’m going through a difficult time and have a lot of things to process.
Crutches can actually be quite useful sometimes, especially if it comes to pushing things or turning lights off or closing various doors that my boyfriend tends to leave open. But other than that, I still have not found it in me to accept them as an extended part of myself for these six weeks. And neither have they, I suppose, the way they keep escaping to the floor or flying across the room whenever I’m not watching.
A lot of the time you don’t feel very capable at all. It’s difficult to accept the state of things and ask for help. Realize that you’re dependent on others to manage the simplest tasks around the house. And maybe the scariest part of it all - a new, frightening space to think opens up, whether you like it or not, and it can drag you into corners of your mind that you have never visited before.
But I am pleased to announce that things are getting better now. I’ve increased the amount of trips between the kitchen and the cupboard using only one crutch, and my physio gave me an entirely new exercise today. Heel raises. How exciting! I’ll take what I can get, thank you.
Every morning I wake up with a feeling not unlike a child on Christmas morning, hoping that today will feel a little bit easier than yesterday. And usually, that is the case, even if the percentage at times can feel minimal.
So, all in all we’re moving forward. Day… 25. Slow progress is still forward, as they say. One day after the other. <3
