Trigger warning: I’m incurably wordy.
On a Friday morning approximately 11 days ago, I had surgery on my left foot. “A big one”, the excellent podiatrist/surgeon calls it. No weight bearing for 8 weeks. A cast to below the knee. Driving out of the question for at least two months. Preplanned, perhaps a few years later than was optimal.
Anyone who has another person very much dependent on them for all the details of their daily life can understand why I would put such a thing off. That said, I’m grateful for the opportunity to have this done. I look forward to the time when walking barefoot and climbing hills and doing the daily run-arounds of caring for Bink and felines and home and, to some extent, Superguy, can be pain-free experiences. I look forward to teaching Yogabilities™ classes again and zipping through days of many errands, parking far from the store entrance to fit in a little more speed walking. Getting up close and physical with the floor twice a day for my series of stretching and strengthening movements that I’ve come to love and respect in equal measure. There will be kayaking in the summer. Sguy and I will be cheering Bink on whilst paddling beside her as she extends her 5 minute explorations on calm water with paddle in hands. Brisk daily walks without paying in pain when I take my sneakers off. In other words, it’ll all be worth it.
I’ve been through this before. 7 years ago my right foot was re-formed. This will be the same: long recovery, 8 screws and a plate now married to bone and cohabitating nicely with tendon and muscle, 3 inch scar barely visible. It was not easy but the outcome was a very good one. 4 days after this surgery, a mysterious and painful neck issue inserted itself into the recovery process, slowing my competency with a knee scooter and making relaxation and sleep quite difficult.
On the home front, …autism with a sprinkle of OCD and a dollop of anxiety does not allow for much flexibility. Yes, we’ve worked on it, and yes, she’s gotten better at adapting to the hundreds of twists and turns any life contains. Calendar in hand and focusing on just the first few weeks, I prearranged as much care coverage for Bink as possible. Help to keep her clean and fed and ensure transport to her various activities. Caregivers, friends, relatives assigned to the spots when she will be home from programs, wanting to walk outside no matter the weather, visit fun places like toy stores and pottery painting, enjoying some meals out. Those that are prepared at home must be properly spicy and salty and have the right texture. I have wonderful people in the wings who’ve offered help, many with their own dependents. This is an incredibly busy time of year, though, and asking for help is not high on my list of Fun Stuff to Do.
So, what to do with my very lapsed writing practice and this state of temporary disability? Write it down. Write it all down and push it out into the world, wildly imperfect and potentially boring as it is.
This is not a woe-is-me. At least I hope it isn’t. Maybe it’s somewhere between Ouch and Sigh and I Was Made for This. So many triumphs already. Like this, being able to type words and put them together and manage to get them onto a computer and into the blog. If the gods of technology favor me they will soon be hanging out there in the ethernets, perhaps attracting a reader or two. (Note to self: Most people have far better things to do than pause to read mini missives by the likes of me.) But it’s not about the audience, it’s the climb.
To be continued…
When releasing perfectionism, rivers pour forth.