The anniversary of my one month post-surgery day is recognized but not celebrated. Wrapped in my poncho in my recovery chair, I can feel it marks a change – a shift into complex new territory. No more handfuls of pills in the morning and evening. No more home visits from supportive yet demanding PTs. No more using crutches, just a cane. Now is the time to start riding the stationary bicycle and taking walks. Ah! There’s the rub. The more I try to walk with a normal gait – heel first, then ball of foot, then toe – the more my muscles resist that change making my leg feel even tighter and more painful. Yet, I still have expectations that I should be moving forward at an ever-increasing pace. Shouldn’t I be biking for half an hour every day? Walking half a mile? Doing exercises? Why am I still dragging and in pain?
Today the sun is shining but I am disconnected. I know I should exercise and I know I should eat healthy food but that seems so difficult at the moment. I’m rereading my notes on what to do when depressed. To begin, I need to adjust my expectations regarding the speed of my recovery. I need to (gently) move around, to do some exercises that will make me feel better. I need to look to my Guiding Hand and not my inner critic. I should write down all the ways in which things have improved since I began this journey, and the nice things that have happened and will continue to happen as I recover. I need to drink more water. I need to go for a walk in the sun.
