Sure, the operation is behind me, but now there are months – a year – of recovery ahead, and absolutely no going back.
So I cried as I mourned
the body I’d just lost. My strength. My independence. My ability to
walk, move, lift, twist, bend.
I cried in fear of
what’s to come. When will the pain stop? When will I feel normal again?
When will I be normal again?
Being home and back to
‘reality’ suddenly made everything feel real. Being ‘not okay’ in hospital
felt normal, but being ‘not okay’ at home feels sad and strange and scary and
daunting.
When I got home, I felt
like I should be happy. Or at the very least, relieved. But I couldn’t. Because
it’s not over. It’s just beginning.
And I guess all I can do
now is keep on pushing forward. Literal step by literal step at a time.
