Back to work this Wednesday!

I'm just a few days shy of the six weeks post-op.

Still have a ways to go...but the most important surgical healing has happened. Yayz! I've been running ahead of the curve the whole way...I am just NOT someone who can be nailed down for long. I got chewed out by my physical therapist more than once for not wearing the arm sling (hey, at least I was honest with her )

I think back on that first night home, how awful it was...and how tough the following two weeks would be. Now that I'm here where I can do more and more and have it hurt less and less...well, like anyone...if only I could have had a little peek into the future, I think the pain wouldn't have bothered me as much.

And isn't the way it always is? We get into a place where we don't feel good--regardless of reason: work, love, money, neighbors who suck...whatever it is--and as it's happening, it seems as if it will last forever. And that makes the loneliness lonelier, the job harder, the broke broker, the sucky neighbors suckier, the rejection more devastating, the pain more painful.

And there's this nagging, doubtful little voice that sits under our skin and asks..."is this even worth it?"

Sometimes that voice is a good thing, because it can bring things into perspective. Freaking out in my car because I'm running late for work won't get me there any faster.

It's all a matter of when to listen, then.

I think the most important shift I made inside of my head was taking what seemed like insurmountable obstacles and breaking them down bit by bit.

Because hey, I was pissed off that I had this so-called vacation, but I wasn't going to go anywhere (unless the O.R. and physical therapy count). There were things that needed cleaning, exercise I thought I should be getting (outside of shoulder stuff), you know, just lots of THINGS I wanted to do, fix, or toss.

But I couldn't.

And boy, did that put me into a funk.

There were bleak days when it was rainy and I was hurting, and I reclined in that big chair with my pillows and my cats and wondered if I'd just become part of the furniture, while the cool light of the television (or laptop) illuminated my tired frown.

And this is where the physical therapy began to change the way I looked at my dilemma. It taught me about baby steps. As I started making more progress, I began to look at things around me not as "can't do that", but as "I'll get there sooner...or maybe a little later".

And thankfully for me, my surgery coincided with the beginning of spring. I strongly recommend springtime if you've got to have a shoulder rebuilt. It's far better to get out and join the living with the encouragement of more light, more greenery, longer days, and less in the way of bulky sweaters and jackets.

Thus, I've actually tackled--and completed--many of those projects I thought I'd never be able to start, let alone finish. My garden is planted, the patio is refurnished, I've gotten that damned pile of sewing out of the way, the closets are organized finally. (I was injured just two weeks after moving to my new apartment, which threw a fly into the ointment there.)

So yeah.

That's enough of my soapbox preaching for now.

But I do hope there are at least a few points of encouragement here, because that was--and still is--my point.

Now I shall go to savor the last few days of my six week sabbatical.