The Things That Suck

When I posted this selfie the other day, Lisa rightly pointed out that that that  image of me, and the words accompanying it, were but a slice, a cheery “if I say it’s all okay, it will be so” slice, of my recovery from surgery.

Here’s another selfie, to complement:

That’s an arguably more honest representation of me, my position, and my mood, over the last week.

Here’s a list of some things that suck about recovering from elbow surgery:

• Constant vigilance about where I am, where my arm is, how much it hurts, whether there’s a more comfortable position for it. It’s exhausting.
• Not being able to drive, so relying on Lisa to get me from place to place.
• Pee-aiming is a challenge, so I end up peeing on the floor. Annoying and embarrassing.
• I spend an inordinate amount of time getting dressed and undressed. The wall-of-mirrors in our bedroom means I’m exposed to a broken, shrunker version of my body. I feel the opposite of attractive and virile.
• Eating with my left hand is slow and annoying and I end up dropping and dribbling.
• I’m afraid. Of infection. Of falling again. Of being fragile. Of getting old. Of being inadequate.
• Brushing my teeth takes twice as long.
• I can’t write or sketch. I can’t set type or carve lino blocks or bind books.
• I can’t swim. When I’m ready to swim, summer will be over.
• Being cared-for brings back a flood of hard memories about being a caregiver, many of them unprocessed, unresolved.
• Holding a hardcover book is hard. Turning pages is harder.
• I know almost nothing about the shape and speed of my recovery: it’s a dark tunnel of unknowns.
• Lisa has learned to treat me like I’m fragile. (Which I am.)
• I can’t tie my own shoes. Of all the practical things, that sucks the most.
• I’m tired all the time.
• I’m tired of people asking me how I’m doing. I feel guilty for how often I’ve asked others that, in similar situations.
• I realize the burden I take on of trying to convince everyone else that everything’s going to be ok. It’s exhausting.
• I can’t type, so writing this is taking an hour, on my iPhone, with my left thumb.
• Feeling like I ruined summer.
• Conflict about how something as positive as working out could derail me so severely. And how and whether I’ll return to the gym.
• Realizing the corrosive effects of relentlessly writing positivity into existence, for a long time.
• I can’t wash my left underarm.
• I have no choice but to sleep on my back. Which I can’t maintain for the whole night.
• Another. Fucking. Thing. Enough with the things: I want to move forward. I feel stuck. Again.
• I’m out of sync with Lisa. We move at different speeds. I try to manage her management of me, which takes energy I don’t have.

I have much to be thankful for. I am so privileged. I will recover. This is a grand adventure. I am learning so much.

All of that is true.

And it also sucks, big time. Remembering that can also be true is helpful.