Grit and Grace: The Road to Recovery
In many ways, it feels like a war. Many battles to wage (the physical, mental, financial, and emotional) and the recognition that some battles will be won, others lost, and in the long run, it's about grit and grace.
It's been one week since the injury happened and three days since a metal plate was installed in my right ankle and a procedure called a tightrope completed to fix my compound fracture. Fifty minutes. That's how long surgery took. Doesn't seem right when I consider how many minutes I'll be navigating the road to recovery but then again, the injury itself only took a second to change the trajectory of my life for the foreseeable future.
Perhaps I am being dramatic. It's a trait of mine. But given I've spent a week sitting on the couch watching life happen all around me, I know I am in mourning. Aside from the pain post surgery and the feeling of helplessness, I am sad. Sad to be missing out on organized sports. Sad to be missing out on community fitness. Mourning the loss of working out for a while, the loss of independence in not being able to drive for the long term, and feeling pretty severe FOMO when I see friends hanging out and I'm sidelined. I'm lonely.
I'm grateful to my parents for caring for me these past few days. Taking me to see the surgeon, being with me through surgery, and helping out this past weekend and in the many days to come. I'm grateful to the friends, neighbors, and my work team who showed up last week to keep me company, bring me coffees and food, help with laundry, and remind me I'm single but not alone. I'm fortunate to have an army around me and I know I'll have to lean into that network in the weeks and months to come for transportation, grocery visits, and positive spirits.
I know I need to give my body grace to allow it to fully heal. And I know that it will. I know that as 2020 approaches I'll look back on these past three months and have some learnings to share. And in six months when I can hopefully resume full activity, I'll be ever more grateful for my health. And as much as I might wish for 2020 to be here and this road to recovery to be three months in the distance instead of on the horizon, grit and grace will carry me through.
Perhaps I am being dramatic. It's a trait of mine. But given I've spent a week sitting on the couch watching life happen all around me, I know I am in mourning. Aside from the pain post surgery and the feeling of helplessness, I am sad. Sad to be missing out on organized sports. Sad to be missing out on community fitness. Mourning the loss of working out for a while, the loss of independence in not being able to drive for the long term, and feeling pretty severe FOMO when I see friends hanging out and I'm sidelined. I'm lonely.
I'm grateful to my parents for caring for me these past few days. Taking me to see the surgeon, being with me through surgery, and helping out this past weekend and in the many days to come. I'm grateful to the friends, neighbors, and my work team who showed up last week to keep me company, bring me coffees and food, help with laundry, and remind me I'm single but not alone. I'm fortunate to have an army around me and I know I'll have to lean into that network in the weeks and months to come for transportation, grocery visits, and positive spirits.
I know I need to give my body grace to allow it to fully heal. And I know that it will. I know that as 2020 approaches I'll look back on these past three months and have some learnings to share. And in six months when I can hopefully resume full activity, I'll be ever more grateful for my health. And as much as I might wish for 2020 to be here and this road to recovery to be three months in the distance instead of on the horizon, grit and grace will carry me through.
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