I had three and a half years between surgeries II and III.  It was too short.  It was also enough time to learn some important lessons.  (The time between surgies I and II was just under two years.)  For instance, at first recovery feels a little bit like this:

You’re moving towards and then away from your goal.  In the moment it is hard to understand any meaning or reason behind the back-and-forth-ness.   And the changes can seem to be moment to moment, or day to day.

And then you start to get better.  And you realize that really, recovery looks like this:

You started in the middle and eventually you turn a corner, and then another one.  At first the corners come quickly and are close together, so while it is easy to feel like progress is being made, it’s not the huge strides it feels like.  (Although I’ll personally never forget the moment when I realized that eating was no longer a marathon-esque event.)  You move outwards.  And as the distance between the corners lengthens, the easier it is to feel like you know how your body works now.  And the more joyful it is to discover that you’ve passed another corner. 

Except. 

Except for the things that never do get better.  Some things are just different after my surgeries.  And then there are those other chronic health issues.  But I’ll find analogies/images/words (okay, more words) for those things another day. 

Recovery.  I feel like I’m starting to move from the small, close inner corners to corners where there’s some more distance.  Which is good.  It means that life will start evening out in terms of good/bad days.  It means that I’ll be able to make plans with better chances of them occuring.  And it means that I’m going to spend more time at each stage.  Things have gotten better, bad days are fewer and less intense, good days are more common.  And I know that there will still be bad days, even really bad days.

So it is.  I know there’s a corner up ahead.

(I’ve spoken about this before, closer to surgery.  See what I had to say here.)
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