But that was it. No more. Enough is enough.
Tomorrow, I am going back to work.
I think one week is perfectly adequate healing time for me to now be able to return to my desk job just fine.
Besides, last night was the first night I rolled over in my sleep without being woken up by searing pain in my left side. I think the end of the hot poker effect is probably a good sign.
And the truth is – I think I need to get out of this bed. Out of this funk. And back to my life.
Where I have responsibilities. And goals. And distractions.
Lots and lots of distractions.
I really am surprised that I needed this extra time though. The truth is, I was pretty positive that I was going to be more than ready to jump right back into work on Monday. After all, I had both of my last two surgeries on a Thursday and was pretty much ready to return to work by Sunday. With surgery on a Tuesday this time – I had no reservations at all with thinking I would be back to work by Monday.
But… I have to admit that the difference between this surgery and those last two was like night and day. My first two surgeries were pretty much a walk in the park. I was sitting up and visiting with friends the night of surgery. Moving around just fine almost right away. Off pain pills in less than 24 hours.
This time though… I felt like I had been hit by a truck. And I looked it too! I’m not exaggerating when I say that those first few days were rough! That I was shocked by my own inability to function. To get out of bed on my own, or eat, or talk to someone for more than 15 minutes without feeling physically exhausted by the whole thing.
Here we are though, a week later, and I am finally starting to feel like something closer to normal again. Finally feeling like I can sleep without fear of moving in the wrong direction. Finally confident in my ability to make it through the day without pain meds. Finally convinced of my own endurance when it comes to getting up in the morning and putting in a full 8 hours.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m pretty sure I’m going to come home tomorrow night exhausted. And wanting nothing more than my bed. But I also know I’m going to be able to get through the day just fine. That I’m here; healed enough to return to my daily activities. Even if not yet with as much gusto as before.
It’s only a matter of time though. I’m already working up a plan in my head for the point in time a few weeks from now when I’m feeling 100%.
A plan for what comes next.
The truth is – it’s probably been a year and a half since I’ve worked out with any kind of consistency at all. Me. A girl, who while never coordinated, still used to be fairly athletic. A girl who used to run miles on the beach daily. Who loved biking. And hiking.
A girl who just loved to be moving.
Who was fit. And toned. And in shape.
Now… that shape is pretty much just “fluffy”. I haven’t gained any weight in this last 2 years, but everything has definitely settled differently. Less gracefully. Softer. Muscle turned into fat now dying to be turned back into muscle.
So, that’s the goal. I’m going to be making a visit to the local Core Pilates studio and purchasing a package of visits. And starting hopefully in March, I am going to kick this body back into gear.
Because, enough is enough.
I have been sedentary, and docile, and unassuming. It’s time to get a little arrogant though. Time to reclaim my body as my own. Time to take it back.
Time to start over.
So, there’s the plan.
Tomorrow: Work.
Two weeks from now: Core Pilates.
The rest of this year: Mine.
But, it’s going to start with me setting the alarm tomorrow. Getting out of bed, and taking a shower. Putting one foot in front of the other, until it all feels normal and natural and right again.
I am getting out of this bed and getting my life back.
Enough is enough.
