September 28th, and positive thinking

Do you ever find that there are days that, well, stick in your memory? I know I do. This is one of them. 2,191 days ago, it was also Friday, September 29th, but in 2017. Today, I'm sitting at my computer, typing this, but then, I was lying in a hospital bed. There was a morphine drip in one arm, and my right ankle was resting on a half-cast, and thoroughly wrapped in bandages. The surgeon I'd met late the previous night was sitting by my bed, explaining things to me. To say I didn't fully understand them at the time would be a large understatement. I hadn't even seen yet what my repaired ankle looked like, but it was no longer sideways, and I was no longer in agonizing pain. (The morphine was probably a factor in that...). Somewhere in my mind, I still thought I'd just get up and walk normally once this was done. Reality, though, doesn't always work the way we want it to. Sometimes, reality sucks and we have to live with it. Letting yourself believe in what won't - can't - happen doesn't help. Let's go back a little bit - if you don't know (at least part of) the backstory, this might be confusing otherwise. On Thursday, September 28th around 4:30pm, I thought my life was getting back to normal. By about 4:45pm, I was lying on the floor in a client's house and my right foot was beside my ankle. Don't try this - just take my word that it's not a good place for a foot to be. The rest of that evening included a trip in an interesting chair out of the house and down some stairs, an ambulance ride to the hospital, a x-rays, multiple medical looky-loos, and (finally!) straightening my foot. At this point, part of me figured I'd just walk out of there. Of course, I was wrong - that sure wasn't an immediate possibility. More x-rays followed, and then another ambulance ride to another hospital, a bed with a curtain, surgery, and more x-rays. Through all of this, part of me believed that when all this was done, I'd just get up and walk out. It was kind of a shock when my surgeon explained that I wasn't going to be walking for at least twelve weeks. That's a long time! I still figured things would just go back to "normal" then, though. Maybe you've felt like that, too? During Covid, or maybe at some other time when life seemed kind of surreal. But then, it doesn't. Or at least, "normal" is a different thing than it used to be. I made it through the twelve weeks of not weight-bearing with a few strange lessons: - people are still really oblivious even when you're in a wheelchair. One person walked right into my raised and extended leg and didn't even apologize! - those knee-scooters (roto-walkers) aren't half as much fun when you need one as opposed to just playing around. - not using muscles in your calf means it looks like an empty bag full of water. Weird! - pain still happens in parts of your body that you're not really using. I got to "walk" (carefully!!) using the "walking cast" which up till then had been a "keep my foot in the right position with no weight" cast for a couple of weeks. It was kind of scary, but it still felt pretty unreal. On January 11th, 2018, the big day came. I was going to walk (with my physiotherapist's help). Despite all of that initial belief that things would just go back to normal after "all this" was done, I was terrified. We got my running shoes on my feet, but as much as I trusted my physiotherapist, I was afraid to get off the table and stand. I knew he wouldn't let me fall, but I was still afraid. So afraid. It felt like hours, but it was probably just a few minutes it took him to convince me that I'd be ok, that I could trust him, that I could do this. This doesn't make sense, does it? After all, I believed in the beginning that this would all go back to normal. Somewhere, though, in that long period of not walking, that belief turned to a fear way beyond the rational. Eventually, of course, I did get off the table. I walked about 20' with my cane AND my physiotherapist. Then, I let my physiotherapist take a video of me walking about 10' with my cane. It's on my FB in January 2018 if you really want to see it. Once I got going, it was a little better. About six weeks later, I started driving again, and I sometimes walk without the cane. I kept thinking things would keep getting better, so it hit me hard when I realized - really understood - in September 2018 that this was what better looked like. That this WAS my new normal. That old normal wasn't gonna happen again. Like, ever. That positive thinking which told things would be normal just shattered in the face of reality. Reality trumps everything. Every time. Sometimes, that's not fun. There are lots of parts of life which are well-impacted by positive thinking. Keep doing that. But it's important to also keep it real. I could wish all day long for the sky to be purple. But except for a few spectacular sunrise/sunset moments, that's not where reality is and all the positivity/hope/wishing in the world won't make it happen. (Maybe some science, though??) For me, living life means that I have to accept reality. If I assume that I'll wake up tomorrow and be as I was on the morning of September 28th, 2017, I'm going to be sorely disappointed. There are some ok days. And then, on other days, I need my cane, a walker or even crutches, and some days are really rough and I don't want to move at all. False positives don't help that, but a positive attitude towards my reality does. There are a lot of things which are much better than they were 2,191 days ago, and I'm grateful for each of them. I make the most of what I have. Wherever you're at, you can do this too. Be positive, and be real. Don't forget to balance those - they both matter in seeing a positive reality. Thanks for hanging out. No pix in this one - any of the real ones are kind of ugly. You're not missing much!