I walked a mile today.
That might not seem like much. There was a very recent point when that wasn’t even a warm-up, when I didn’t break a sweat on a five-mile walk unless it was 80 degrees out, when I could hardly go fast enough.
This is not that day.
The sun was shining and I really wanted to be outside. I wanted to go for a walk. I asked Ed to come with me – for the company, yes – it’s nice to hold hands with him in the sunshine. Also because I knew he’d keep me from going too far, too fast.
We walked half a mile to a park with a high grassy knoll. I was completely whupped. I lay on my back in the damp grass, looking up at the sky – this sky – listening to the rumble of Ed’s voice as we talked. After a while, I was ready to walk back. A few blocks from home, I needed to rest again on a sidewalk bench.
I wanted to curl up for a nap. Or a coma. Right there on the bench.
Home. So. Far.
not unexpected totally expected impatience with myself.
Until Ed said, “Three weeks ago today you couldn’t walk on your own.” He’s right. I needed his help to get out of bed, to sit on the toilet, to feed myself. On top of my asthma meds, I came home from the hospital with four new (temporary) drugs.
Three weeks ago, I had surgery to remove an angry gall bladder, after enduring a dozen days of nauseating, constant pain. I don’t know why I had to say “angry”. I don’t think they usually remove the happy gall bladders.
At my follow-up appointment, the surgeon gave me timelines for when to expect things to settle out to a new normal (3-4 months). I mostly just wanted to know when I could start doing planks again. That was when he (finally) cracked a smile.
He said there would be days like this, days when I needed a nap and wanted to go bed by 8:00 pm. He recommended I heed what my body had to say.
Today I walked a mile. Even if it took me over an hour to accomplish. After, I was exhausted. Like, bone-deep, why is that fork so bloody heavy, kind of exhausted. But also, kind of triumphal.
I’m a magical healing person. (You are, too.)
Every time I face some kind of a health crisis – and there have been too damn many times, but still – every time, I am amazed and grateful and filled with wonder at the magic of our capacity to heal.