Losing my balance

February 17, 2010

As I was in the shower the other morning washing one of my feet, I lost my balance a little and had to steady myself. It made me laugh. How many times have we all done that? Too many to count, I'm sure. Whenever that happens to me now, it takes me back to my early days of recovery. The very early days of recovery. Those first days when I returned home after having had my colon removed, I was so weak. It took all my concentration to keep my balance when I was walking. Seriously, I had to keep my head down, watch my feet, and take very small, slow steps. My mom was with us then for a while. She would walk in the back yard with me, walking in circles. She would walk through the house with me, in and out of each bedroom, around the living room, around the dining room table. Ten minutes. That was my goal each time. If I did that walk three times a day I was happy. I had accomplished something. As she walked with me, if she said something to make me laugh I would lose my balance and have to reach out to grab a hold of her, or I would stumble. Showering took everything out of me. I usually needed a nap after I showered. My back had no strength and so raising my arms to wash my hair took energy I didn't always have. I couldn't bend over, I didn't have the strength to straighten back up.

As I was gaining strength I remember getting excited about that. I had these two-pound free weights that I carried around with me one day as I walked my loop through the house. I started singing the Rocky song - you know - the one where he climbs to the top of the stairs? I was going for a laugh and it worked. But the next day I was so exhausted I think I slept the whole day. "You might have over done it a little yesterday sweetie," Mom said. But hey, I got a laugh out of it.

I know a lot of people who have had to start over. Oddly enough, when I was in the ER on what I believe was the worst day of my illness, a friend of ours was also in the ER. Jeremy saw his wife there and found out he had been in a motorcycle accident. A bad one. He had months of physical therapy and recovery as his body was rebuilt. It's humbling. No. Those words don't do justice to the experience: "It's humbling." It's also terrifying, exhausting, challenging, and life changing - having to start over. But it's a gift too. It's a gift because I have a gratitude now for things that I never would have otherwise. And really, gratitude is one of those things that I believe has been life changing for me.

Today I am grateful that I can raise my arms above my head, that I can walk without thinking (usually - smile), that I can bend over to pick up Django's toy off the ground, and that there is energy flowing through me.