This is week 8. I was to start taking steps on Wednesday. I may, or may not, have begun taking steps on Monday. If you tell my doctor, I will certainly deny it. My heart was giddy. (see previous post) I noticed, the steps I was taking, were increasing in speed, faster and faster. It was as if my heart had its stopwatch ticking away and I was looking for a record-breaking time.
My good old brain decided to speak up and halt my forward race, to an imaginary finish, against all other racers who did not exist.
My brain is so patient with my heart, acknowledging the joy of two feet down and no real pain. “But, dear heart” my brain quietly spoke, “Be gentle with your whole body in this new venture back into the pathway of life. For goodness sake, slow down!”
My happy heart, slightly jarred by sobering reality, smiled, nodded, and hit “stop” on its stopwatch. And, so, I continued my short walks throughout the day. In the quiet moments, I could swear I heard a small voice pump out the words, “Party Pooper!”
That would normally be the end of this blog but I have something else to discuss. When my mother was aging, I was able to be there any day, any time, at any moment. My family, especially my siblings, are far enough away that they cannot run over, and, frankly, I am pretty much out of sight, out of mind.
Don’t get me wrong. I have wonderful neighbors (70+ in age) and step-kids who would run over in an emergency. But it opened my eyes to the possible future. I need to look for a place where I can find comfort and care when I need it. Obviously, family is out. Up until now, I have been healthy and independent. That can change at any moment.
Yes, being unable to walk for seven weeks was eye-opening. At the beginning of this experience, taking 45 minutes to make a cup of coffee and feed the dog, and pretty much being exhausted the rest of the day, was frustrating. Getting stronger every day and FINALLY graduating to walking was empowering.
I am stubborn like that. I am also pragmatic. The health I have now is a blessing. God has been good. But life changes. My body changes. Tomorrow is not today. Still, I am not afraid. Neither do I want to try to rely on those who would find me a burden.
So, begins the search for what will work.
That will be good for at least one future blog.
3 responses to “Race To The Finish”
My friend,
first of all listen to your brain…which God is sending you His instructions to you…don’t rush it and definitely be careful as you walk more and more. As you stated your body isn’t as young as it was and you don’t want to do harm to your newly healing ankle. Remember God will open the doors you need regarding the future. He has you in His continual grasp. He will never leave you stranded or alone.
If you read this before Monday…see you tomorrow and if you feel like you don’t want to drive I can come to your house as well as Percy,.
blessings my friend,
Laurie
I believe living one day at a time diminishes stress which is the biggest killer of all. I understand that this has been an awful and traumatizing experience for you. You are relatively young and healthy, Robin, and will fully recover. Down the road, if push comes to shove, we can always trade a free room for assistance, or if we have the money, go to assisted living…but overall, you are loved and appreciated here where you live and we all keep tabs on each other. I hope you enjoy your relative youth while it’s still here.
Sounds good Robin, brain first in situations like this! You’re almost there…be kind to yourself.
We miss you and are very thankful for these blogs! I should have been kinder to myself!