I sort of took an impromptu vacation the last several weeks. After my surgery, I tried to stay connected. I thought that if I fell silent for any length of time, I would piss people off. This meant I was taking two tedious hours to compose a three paragraph blog post basically complaining about how shitty recovering from surgery is. Spoiler alert: it’s pretty shitty.
Staying connected was almost easy at first. Granted, I was practically bed bound with only my phone and iPad for immediate entertainment, but still. Then people started asking challenging questions that my foggy brain couldn’t keep up with. Seriously, the fog that comes after surgery is the worst. It’s thick and it lingers and it actually makes me concerned that I’ve lost more brain cells than I can spare to loose.
So, I took a mini-vacation and strategically avoided any of my responsibilities (except the ones I couldn’t avoid, like taking care of my kids. Not that I wanted to — or would — avoid that, of course).
Plus Christmas — don’t even get me started on that. Christmas zapped what little energy I had clean away. The preparing, the anticipating, the straight up panic I felt thinking about every little thing we needed to do. All while unable to do, well, mostly anything. I couldn’t do the shopping — I’m not able to handle walking around quite yet. At least not around busy malls, jam packed with other last minute shoppers that are physically capable of shoving me aside for the last Pie Face game.
I couldn’t do any of the decorating, I couldn’t bake (not that I bake, but still. I usually get those pre-made cookie dough rolls, put them on a tray and pop them in the oven as an easy “activity” to do with the boys). I didn’t do Christmas cards and I had this vision of us not being stressed out and actually enjoying the magic of Christmas, only to achieve that (the whole “not being stressed out” thing), the Christmas shopping and the grocery shopping would have had to have been done immediately, and that didn’t happen despite my pestering.
You see…my husband is somehow even more of a procrastinator than I am. He literally leaves things to the last possible second. He finished our Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve.
And he’s very good at defusing my panic. While I flap my hands around, verbally barfing out all the items on our (ok, mine) to-do list, he sits there calmly and tells me that we’ve got all the time in the world. And his nonchalant attitude soothes the frantic beast within (or maybe that’s the pain medicine).
Anyways, I digress. The point I’m trying to make, I guess, is that I had to pop off for a bit and try and clear the cobwebs from my brain. And, you know, do the whole Christmas thing with our families.
I totally planned on being back to the grind by now. But due to scheduling, I just started physiotherapy today for my wrist. It’s funny, actually…I thought I was doing well with my recovery, but my physiotherapy appointment today showed me just how weak my wrist is. It’s like, very weak. It is going to be almost like starting from scratch, only on a lesser scale.
I can’t twist it to the degree I’m supposed to twist it, and my pathetic little grip wouldn’t even register on the tool they use to judge how weak it is. I have to go to physiotherapy twice a week for the next five weeks, and then after that point if I’m not back to 100% (or at least *my* variation of 100%, because that differs from the average person and I’m not Superwoman), I guess I’ll have to keep going.
But, my ability to sit down and type isn’t really back yet. I can type out a few sentences but that’s my cap. You’d be surprised how difficult typing is when you can’t hold your wrist in that position.
I’ve got a billion articles to write for my other contribution sites, but I honestly can’t seem to write a blog post update without completely forgetting what I’m talking about. My method of typing is to write on my phone using my thumbs, and it’s really not effective at all. Every time I try, I forget what I said two paragraphs above and have to go up and re-read what I’ve written.
Anyway, I can’t think of an appropriate closing paragraph so I’ll leave you with a picture of my awesome dog. Dogs rule.