It’s been a little over two weeks since I broke my ankle. And much like my previous medical experiences, it felt like those weeks crept and flew by at the same time.
I thought we had crossed the hardest part of the process – being the surgery and the first couple of days. But life likes reminding me that recovery is not a linear process.
Some days the physical part is harder – like today, where my leg ached more than usual after I slept weirdly last night.
Then there are other days when the emotional/mental drain is harder. Even the simplest of tasks, like brushing teeth or changing from PJs to day clothes, felt like a mountain I was not equipped to climb.
And the worst days are the ones where both facets are just exhausted and over it. And this week has been filled with a touch more of the “both” category. The exhaustion and anxiousness feed into my frustration with being unable to do what I normally do to relieve some of that anxiety, which is to scrub down the shower.
Obviously, there is no sitting on my hands and knees at this point because:
a. The epiphany of sitting in such a way that I can freely use both my hands while keeping my casted leg dry has not yet come to me.
b. I’m even more vertically challenged than normal. The idea of my trying to reach for items while balancing with one crutch loudly sounds off all the red alerts. One broken leg is enough…
Reflecting on the last two weeks, I am once again reminded of how adaptable humans are if we allow ourselves to.
I’ve gone from nearly face-planting when just looking at crutches to moving around very comfortably. Although still a definite “fall risk”, I don’t wobble nearly as much as I did last week.
Hubby has gone from not knowing anything about buying furniture or hanging curtains or packing/unpacking boxes to doing most of that solo. I honestly couldn’t be prouder.
He never ceases to amaze me with his adaptability. He is the embodiment of “always good”. He can be having a bad day, be frustrated and tired, but he will still smile and make sure to put a smile on someone else’s face. A quality which I completely adore, and sometimes envy (not in a resentful way). He makes it look so easy to be his authentic self and take change in his stride.
I’m grateful to have him there to hoist me to my feet when I am too tired to lift myself from the floor. He doesn’t mind taking over duties that are just physically too difficult for me. The list of all the small acts I can never repay him for keeps growing.
So we are where we’ve prayed, where we would be. The road to get here may not have been what we thought, but the joy and excitement of the trip is not overshadowed by the gravelly bumps.
Shattered Warrior 