Two months and a few days ago my OT in the hospital shocked me by saying I could take a shower. It had been almost two weeks since my surgery and I'd barely been out of bed since my surgery. I had had nothing but sponge baths for two weeks and thus the water, the emotions of something so simple, so amazing. I sat in that shower and I cried. I mean, I, me, actually sobbed. (if you know me you know that is rare)
Fast forward 10 weeks, my shower chair is in my garage, my crutches stand in the corner of my room like soldiers, my house is slowly returning to order, these markers that I am getting back to myself each give me pause to think about, yet I want more. Always, I want more. Every time I pull into my garage I see my bike sitting there waiting for me, taunting me. I can't quite describe how much I want to go for a ride or a run. It is funny how much a part of my life that has become in the last few years...
Two weeks ago, my PT said I could ride an exercise bike, I looked at him in dismay, really? 15 minutes in I was exhausted, my cardio, my stamina were all lost. However, persistance is my middle named, so I pushed. In a little over a week, I could do 45 minutes on the bike with hills. Yesterday I sheepishly asked my PT when he thought I could start to spin again. He said, why not now? Give your days a few days of rest and by the end of the week you're good to go. What? Really?
It felt like getting something back that I had lost, a skilll, a hobby I used to take for granted. It felt a little like getting to shower for that first time, something so fundamental. It felt like a return to me. I declared it on twitter and on facebook with glee in my heart, then I sat in my car and cried. It has been a long few months, but I have come so far. Sometimes I need to remember that. Sometimes I just need to cry
Cheerful Leftovers Quilt
1 day ago