Think I won’t understand? Think again.
It was excruciating. That pain. I lay there staring at the ceiling corner. The white paint peeling from the cornice. The hairline crack growing ever so wider as it inched it’s way along, finding it’s place, forced to tear, rip and be exposed.
Just breathe. To my right, through the window a stunning summer’s sky outside, I can see the pool, sparkling blue, alone and still, waiting for the shrill children’s cries of glee after school. Waiting to be swishing and swirling, to be joyous in the celebration of life. But, just for now a gentle soft ripple, a soft motion under the propulsion of the cleaner.
Time to move, bracing for pain, I kept laying there, contemplating the adjustment. What do I want to achieve? A slight left, or to the right or a complete roll. No, just get the pressure off my heel. Palms pressing deep down onto the bed, pressing into the crumpled sheets and heave. Screaming out in frustration, fear, pain and hate. Hate for this moment, hate for lying here wasting, hate for my circumstance, hate for my life, hate for just waiting.
Is this it? Is this the way it’s going to be, my life, over.
Both physically and mentally paralysed, crippled in the very sense of the word. Swollen knees, so big that not a bone to be seen, so swollen inside and outside that only a slight foot movement backwards can be achieved. Stuck with outstretch legs, pain and overwhelming loss, grief and despair.
Alone in anguish, alone in pain, and, just alone.
There is always a choice. Giving in was certainly debating fiercely with my mind. What would that look like? What would that achieve?
Many an hour, many a day, many a week, much time, just lying there, me and that crack, deliberating.
As I saw it, I was alone. Only I was in this mess. Everyone else’s life was going to go on. Albeit some changes, but the reality was, I am the one in this. No one else.
I had a choice. I had become angry at the pain, angry at the hurt. There is so much power in hurt and anger to draw from. Turning that power into strength and determination to get well, to walk and reclaim my life.
I chose to heal. It meant I making decisions for my tomorrow, my new life, and take baby steps.
I was blessed with my knowledge and my lack of acceptance of what I could become. Much tough healing.
Finally after a year I was able to walk ‘normally’ again. The physical rehab slow, painful.
Five years later I find myself still building my wasted thighs, still learning to kneel. But the fittest I have been for years, strong in mind and determination with an unswaying belief that the body wants to heal, all we need to do is facilitate that. No excuses.