Let me preface this by saying that, in the grand scheme of things, my current injuries are very minor. I’m mobile, upright and for the most part, coherent. When I start to feel sorry for myself, I think of a friend who’s son is in hospital and mentally slap myself and thank my lucky stars.
That being said, being injured sucks. A few weeks ago, I fractured my shoulder. As I was peeling myself off the ground – knowing instantly that I’d done a fair bit of damage, random thoughts ran through my brain:
“There’s NO WAY I’m calling patrol. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Ugh. How am I going to get my shirt off?”
“Stay calm. Kids are watching.”
“Well, there goes swimming for a while. Can I bike? Run? Skate ski?”
See? Inconvenient but not that big of a deal. Does it hurt? Yes. Is it awkward? Yes: just ask anyone who’s watched me pull off a sweater. Do I think I did more damage than good when I caught the blender falling off the counter a few days ago? Oh hell yes.
Being hard-headed, I knew I had a minor knee surgery scheduled for yesterday. Despite knowing that hobbling around on crutches probably wasn’t going to happen, I refused to re-schedule in the hopes that I’d be weight-bearing. And waddya know? The stars aligned, and here I am. Weight-bearing and feeling like I’ve been punched in the thigh. Peeling off the dressing last night made for a super fun family activity, one that all kids were keen to get involved in!
The good news is that surgery went smoothly and that frankly, it was the best sleep I’ve had in YEARS. The bad news is that there are potentially 2 more to come. But I figure I’ll cross that bridge when I’m being shoved over it.
In the meantime, I’m going to work on physio/recovery/rehad like it’s my job. There are too many upcoming adventures hanging in the balance not to!
The SMO's stories 