There is progress. Slow and steady. Chaplain Tortoise, here, is almost ready to go back to work on Tuesday!
Almost 2 weeks out from surgery, I’m feeling encouraged. (I’ll spare you a picture of my knee, minus the sutures.) The swelling is going down and I’m able to do simple things like stand up and sit down without pain. I can navigate steps (going up is easier than going down) but still find it difficult to do things like pick up a bag of groceries from the floor, or squat. (I probably could squat, but someone would have to rescue me.)
Now, as my surgeon says, I have a “better” knee, but I do not have a “healthy” knee. It will take some babying and strict rehab to get closer to normal functioning. And, though I hate to say it, I will have to start going to the gym regularly. My whole body will benefit (and I know this), but I’m just not someone who enjoys working out. And most of my friends are readers and knitters, not joggers and weight-lifters.
One of the realities I am facing, though, is that to get back to my personal “best” it will take some work. So I decided to check out the local gyms and fitness clubs, just to get a jump start on where I will end up after PT.
It was… interesting.
There was one that smelled like every high school gymnasium you’ve ever been in, minus the pull-out bleachers and whistles. Yeah… no.
There was one that appeared to have delusions of grandeur, with hardwood floors and a “eucalyptus” steam room. (Why? I don’t know). And a “day spa” where I could get a bikini wax and a facial after I work out. (Um. No.)
There was one that had row after row after row of treadmills and row machines, and not much else. Also no one on the floor who could teach a newbie how to use these things. My comment to the salesperson: “Look. I got this knee injury from walking. On a flat surface. I need a little more than a smile and wave.”
There was one that had pushy sales staff and warned me that “the price will go up if you don’t sign today.” (My response? “Oh well. Your loss.”)
Then there was the guy who schmoozed so much, I thought we would be meeting up with our spouses for a drink this weekend. Dude. I’m just looking for a place to work out. Your son is not marrying my daughter! (Creepy.)
And… my last stop, when I was almost ready to say fuggedaboudit, my search yielded a place with fairly normal people. People who get that I am not interested in being anything other than a better version of my best self. I think I’ll probably end up there. We’ll see.
I’m operating at a lower speed than normal, which has been frustrating. However, listening to my body has been key. (My knee definitely YELLS at me when I try to do too much!) Stepping back into mindfulness practices, I remembered that knowing and caring for myself is the best way to walk into a healthier me.
So for now, I’m Chaplain Tortoise… taking those baby steps towards healing. Slow and steady wins the race.
