To read how I broke my leg and got to feeling restless in the first place, click here.
This morning when I woke up, I felt the immediate need to get out of my bed. Where did I think I was going to go? I didn’t care. I have spent more time in that bed in the last three weeks than probably the last three years combined (at least that’s what it feels like, I haven’t actually done the math).
What I truly wanted to do what go downstairs, make myself a cup of coffee, and go sit on my front porch for the thirty minutes or so it would feel nice before feeling too hot (anyone else live somewhere that hasn’t gotten the memo that summer is over?). I want to cook my own breakfast, move around without assistance, feel normal.
But I settled for my giant chaise in my office as my husband carried my laptop and books for me (I really need to get a small backpack to carry around with me wherever I go).
And it’s not that I’m ungrateful. My husband has been an amazing caregiver through this. He is the most patient person I know, far more so than me, and he has been at my beck and call for whatever I’ve needed, whenever I’ve needed it. From needing ice packs and medicine at 2am to helping me up and down the stairs to bringing me food and whatever else I needed, he has done it all. He’s had to take care of me and the dogs (three German Shepherds), plus the cat, plus find time to take care of himself, and still find the time to work in the process. I recognize everything he’s also had to sacrifice these past few weeks.
Which is just another reason why I am so anxious to get some of my independence back. Not only do I want to feel that sense of freedom, but I want to release some of that burden from him as well. I cannot wait for the day that I can get downstairs by myself, make myself a cup of coffee and/or breakfast, and come back up the stairs, all before he even wakes up.
I realize that will probably not be any time soon. But I am hopeful. Each day I feel myself get stronger. I can tell I am not expending as much energy based on my sleep. I have a terrible time trying to fall asleep, and an even worse time staying asleep. I know my body needs it to heal, but it’s like it just isn’t tired. The good news is, the lack of sleep is not due to pain or discomfort. I simply can’t go to sleep if I’m not tired.
I am hoping that won’t be an issue over the next few days. I have my post-op appointment on Monday and I am so, so hoping I get cleared to go back to work. What a difference that will make! I am desperate to go back to work. I need some sense of normalcy again, I need a routine, I need a mission, a purpose. I miss my students, my coworkers, my classroom, and my favorite coffee mug.
I realize going back to work will not be easy. I will have to be extremely careful with my leg. I will have to rely on others still. I will not be able to give everything I have every hour. I know I will get tired. I know I’ll be exhausted by the end of each day. But it will be a good kind of exhausted. It will be the kind of exhausted where I know I did something meaningful and purposeful with my day. That’s how I am, it’s how I’m wired. I have to have something to do – a purpose – always.
But until I know when I get to go back, for now I’m still trying to find joy in the small things. Today, Griffin and I are going to pick out mums for our front porch, and then he is going to help me begin setting out fall decorations. Fall is my favorite season, and decorating for fall is one of my favorite activities. It will be so nice to get out of the house, into the sunshine, and then be useful. It will also be a good test to see how I do out of bed and sitting upright for an extended period of time. I’m so excited.
Here’s to finding purpose in each day, even when we’re growing restless.