Thursday, March 27, 2008

3 Weeks

It's a strange thing, knowing when you're going under the knife. Like knowing when you're going to be in a car accident. I get to wind down all the things that need winding down - students, classes, responsibilities. But it carries a strange air of ending, and at the same time within that ending the potential of all beginnings. It felt like this last time, like the life of the person before has to come to a close to allow for this new person to emerge. How much of me do I carry through each time? Maybe it seems melodramatic, but I think for anyone who's had something like this there is a deep shift. You're flung face first against the bottom of yourself, the limits of your personality. What are you going to do? I guess you can have this whole experience in a way that's shut off from your soul, and if that's the experience that you're having, more power to you. But I am deeply humbled by the fact that having had one surgery, I have a second in 3 weeks, and it's entirely possible that I may have more in my future. I am humbled by and grateful for this little body that's just doing its best to hold itself together as I fling more challenges at it (and of course, I'm not satisfied with just a body that can walk and talk - oh no - I have to be able to get my foot behind my head and balance on my hands). I am humbled by the fact that I get to have all these experiences at a relatively tender age - questions of breaking down that most don't have to deal with until later in life. I am deeply grateful for every time someone asks me how I'm feeling and really listens to the answer, even when it's not the answer they or I would like, and doesn't change the subject or try to look on the bright side. Let's all sit with this for a while, that there is no perfect solution, that we're all just working to get as good as we can, and let that be ok. I'm not trying to be depressing or morose, and I hope that comes through here. I'm trying to express what it feels like to me to allow exactly where I am to be ok, not to fight or cry about it, and to get quiet enough that it can teach me what it's supposed to be teaching me.


Cass said...

I don't mean to be melodramatic either, but this post almost made me cry. You've put into words what I've been thinking but haven't been able to organize enough to deal with. Your ability to express this complicated mess of emotions so eloquently is really incredible.

Anonymous said...

No surgery is easy...13 and counting hips and female repro not cooperating in my life but somehow we all seem to thrive and cry... hang in there be strong and keep on posting it helps and the screws and extra hardware are great convo pieces....Namstate RK

Anonymous said...

Dear Sarah,
You are an inspiration to all of us who read your blog and silently accompany you on this journey. Your insight is astounding and your courage undeniable. Having spent 4 wonderful days with you for Lauren's birthday, I know this ain't going to stop you for long. Every step, however painful, is one closer to greater strength and mobility. We leave tomorrow for Costa Rica and you will be in our thoughts as we hunt for that sun-drenched, beach-side house where all our PAO/FO buddies can come and heal in the sunshine. I'll always have an opening for anyone with Guest Services experience :-)
xx Denise