Dressing games

I didn't mean to stay away so long. The last entry was hard for me to read and I didn't feel like writing for awhile. The past weeks have been filled with the same thing that I've been doing for the past months - recovering. I looked up the definition and here's what I found: "the regaining of or possibility of regaining something lost or taken away; restoration or return to health from sickness; restoration or return to any former and better state or condition."


It fits. This defines me right now. Everything in my life is consumed with recovery. I feel as if all I have to offer to a conversation is a discussion of my health issues and developments. I don't go out during the week unless I have doctor appointments which I then follow up with a quick shopping trip. Occasionally I'll go out with friends but it's not the same. And dating is not even possible. Part of recovery is realizing limitations, accepting these limitations and then finding fun new ways to swear at them. For me to recover, I have to face my new limitations and make them work for me. Everyday is a struggle to find a piece of my old independence - and if I'm lucky, a small way to break off part of the way I use to do things and make it fit into my current situation.

Take for instance, pulling on my pants. Forget underwear - I stopped wearing those the day of my first surgery. I only put them on now when I'm going to have a procedure or test done that might show my "cash and prizes". BS (before surgeries) getting dressed was easy. In fact, most times I was able to multi-task. Now my parents need to help me dress as my balance and flexibility are compromised. I've been using a gripper tool to help me learn to dress myself. It extends about 2' and has plastic grips at the end that I control with a little hand trigger. Pulling up my pants is difficult because of my complete foot drop and the balance issues. It is a comedic dance as I pull up my pants while swaying to some obscure beat that only my body can hear. I can only laugh when I fall back on the bed, pants hanging around my knees, gripper in hand. Certain pants are the enemy - anything with the words spandex or Lycra are not allowed near me. Jeans are okay for the most part except when my foot gets tangled up.

I can't put a sock on my left foot. The drop foot and swelling are so bad I simply can't make the sock go over what use to be my normal size foot and toes. My parents have to put the sock on my foot. The orthopedic shoe is the opposite of everything I have ever worn. It's ugly and even more gross, fastens with VELCRO. It's the only thing that fits my foot and doesn't hurt so I wear it. Grudgingly.

I can walk about 15 steps before the pain is so bad I have to take a break. I can stand on my right foot, weight bearing on my left is impossible since I walk on my tiptoes. I have the ballerina pointed toe without the grace, mobility or flexibility - or the pretty satin shoes.

So now I know that recovery is not only physical but mental and spiritual. Finding the balance that will bring me back to center, to peace will be a long journey.