More, more.

88fb3aeccc3e894c0af69301c516347d

I know that winter has just begun but for some reason I feel like spring has suddenly bloomed inside of my head.

It must be the fresh start I feel coming. I just keep waiting for it to peek it’s head around the corner.

I have a tendency to hit a refresh button this time of year. The holidays are over and a new year is upon us. I’ve usually obtained some form of sugar addiction by this time and have had a few weeks off of work to contemplate how I could be more present, more organized… more, more.

Don’t get me wrong all of those things have happened this year as well. I’ve got a million unrealistic expectations listed out in my head for the new year. But it’s also very different.

aa52ba45668b6904396c29600845311a

This year my hibernation pattern has been compromised. I missed the final opportunity to frolic outside and smell the rotting leaves before the earth was coated in snow. Every winter I get into a bit of a winter time funk due to my inability to play outside, but this year the funk hit early because of my leg injury.

I took so many things for granted before I had this surgery. Each week after the surgery I could feel my inner light shining dimmer and dimmer as I waited for my freedom of movement to come back. I felt like a butterfly stripped of her wings. And I couldn’t bare to write to you and tell you about it. I didn’t want to pull you down into my little dark chamber.

Each week seemed to be worse instead of better and I was unbearably frustrated because of it.

Until finally… I turned a corner.

Yes, my leg looks like a patch work quilt but after having surgery again I no longer need to worry about a gaping wound on my leg. I no longer have to wear a brace, and I don’t have to use crutches anymore.

My leg aches everyday as my muscles struggle to make a return, but every day I can feel myself getting stronger and stronger. My physical therapist said that I’m doing exceptionally well. She said that she’s never seen anyone undergo the same surgery and recuperate as fast. (Thank you Haus legs of yesteryear.)

Over the fast two months I have had a lot of time to sit and think. I debated on whether or not I would continue to write this blog. At the time I didn’t really have anything nice to say, and honestly I felt like a failure as I sat there in the worst shape of my life.

Then suddenly I began to bloom again and I couldn’t wait to write just to say hello. It seems I had forgotten why I write in the first place…

99b7a98f13b39afc83ff38b76a42f41d

It has nothing to do with perfection because perfection is boring. Nor does it have to do with success because how exactly do you measure success?

I write because I like you. And because apparently I am compulsively drawn to new beginnings…

So, as you may have noticed this little section of the internet looks a little different. I figured a fresh face for a fresh start was appropriate. Especially considering that I will be starting from the beginning all over again.

 

My answer to that is… shut up.

Welp… it’s been nearly 6 weeks since my surgery and I’ve finally gotten to where I can walk without crutches. This is a good thing because I have proven to be a questionable motorized cart driver.

A few weeks ago I was cleared to drive a car. That morning I dropped Penelope off at preschool for the first time in a month and was so excited about my newfound freedom that I decided a little trip to Target was in order. I figured I could grab a coffee and roll around the store looking at home decor.

I had, after all, spent an entire month watching HGTV. I had big plans for the house by the time my couch stint was over.

Once I got to Target I crutched my way into the store next to three other moms that I recognized from Penelope’s preschool. Not being part of the stay-at-home squad I shyly smiled at them acknowledging that I had just seen them… and that I was indeed still wearing my pajamas. Once I made it through the door I hobbled my way to my motorized grocery cart and headed toward Starbucks.

The next thing I new my granny cart was crashing into a mug display and I was being extricated from the rubble… I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Ultimately, I opted for laughing even though I seriously contemplated the crying option. I joked it off with the employees, got my coffee and scootered my way away from the scene as fast as I could. Unfortunately the cart only had one speed… painstakingly slow.

This may cause you to ask how I managed to crash if my cart was so slow. My answer to that is… shut up.

I slowly made my way through the aisles of the store alternately cursing myself and laughing at myself for the scene I had caused at the front of the store. (I’m sure I looked quite manic.) As I scootered I kept running into one of the women from Penelope’s school. We would smile and carry on, until we bumped into each other again. Finally after ending up at the same spot in the store for the fifth time in a row she asked me if she could help me with anything.

I smiled at her and politely declined her offer, but told her about my mug display crash. She laughed with me and said, “I just had to ask. You are just the most joyful person I’ve seen in weeks.”

As soon as she said that I could feel the threat of tears rising up against me. Because joyful is that last thing I’ve been since going through this surgery and  I felt like a liar smiling at her the way that I was. I wanted to tell her so just to clear my conscious. But then again, I didn’t want to ruin her illusion and instead opted to smile even harder and thank her for her kind offer.

Slowly things are getting back to normal. A few weeks ago I started walking with crutches and then I graduated to one crutch. It didn’t take long to build my strength and before I knew it I was walking off without my crutches. I still have to have my leg locked straight, however.

The Thursday before I was scheduled to return to work I started to feel sick. By the time Monday rolled around and I had a full on cold. I thought I had reached the worst of it. But it only got worse. That Tuesday morning I woke up at 3 in the morning because I felt so awful. I made my coffee and cried in my chair as I waited for the day to begin. I couldn’t call in a substitute because I had been gone for so long. It wasn’t fair to my kids. Then to my surprise, we had a snow day.

I swore I heard angels singing when they made the announcement.

I returned to work the next day but my voice was giving out on me. By Thursday I had absolutely no voice. My poor students felt so bad for me. Every time I tried to tell them something they would answer me in a whisper and every time I dropped a crutch they scrambled to pick it up for me.

On Thursday afternoon I went to my family Dr. for my cold, but while I was there I had her take a look at the wound on my leg. Shortly after my surgery it had become apparent that I was allergic to the steristrips that they had used to close the bone deep cut. I kept developing blood blisters over my scar. Lately, it had been my main source of discomfort but I thought it would eventually go away. Unfortunately it didn’t.

Over the past week my physical therapist was becoming increasingly concerned with the way my leg was looking and wanted me to get it checked out anyway. As it turned out, under my nasty scab was a gaping wound which explained why it was oozing. (Yeah I know… gross!) It wasn’t healing properly due to the reaction I had to the strips. My family doctor called my surgeon and I had to take off of work on Friday and go in to see him.

(This is typically where I would insert a picture of my leg, but it’s gross so I’ve decided to spare you.)

Upon looking at my wound he decided that another surgery was in order to fix it. He said that there was a good chance that if my scab were to fall off I would be looking at the screws he had put into my leg. EEEW! What?!

My surgery is tomorrow. Wish me luck!