I don't remember the exact words because see above reference to pouting but the topic was recovery. The last part was (paraphrasing) that the recovery process is actually more difficult than the actual injury or the cure.
Amen, sister. Sing it.
I've diligently tried to be upbeat and positive through this whole g.d. thing but I failed yesterday. Huge.
We went racing this weekend so I was at the racetrack Friday through Sunday. I did a lot of self-care while there but I also pushed my physical boundaries. And I paid for it.
Monday found me swollen and sore beyond imagination. If I were a different person, I would have so taken the last two pain meds that I have and just knocked myself out for the day. But that is giving in and I'm not that person.
I couldn't even complete physical therapy, which is just pathetic to me. Turns out: I don't enjoy failure much. I'm still annoyed about it.
Twelve weeks as of yesterday have passed. I have seven to eight more weeks left before I'm "healed". Right now, I feel like I'm back at the starting line. I'm frustrated and angry.
I want to not hurt, I want to wear normal shoes, I want to bust my cane in half. What I'm coming to realize is that even after all this, none of those listed things are probably going to happen. I am going to hurt, I don't get to wear sandals or high heels again, and while they hope I don't need a cane, I just might. G.D. it. (now you know how frustrated I am, using G.D. it and risking eternal damnation...haha)
So, it's a beautiful day as summer has finally reached the Pacific Northwest. The dog is sleeping on the cool kitchen floor, and all is quiet. I have to go to work for four whole hours. I'm going to listen to the GLEE soundtrack at an obnoxious volume and pretend that yesterday never happened.
Some days there won't be a song in your heart. Sing anyway.
~Emory Austin
1 comment:
I want you to feel better. NOW. Thinking of you.
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