Three years ago while playing soccer I tore my ACL, the main ligaments in your knee which basically hold the whole thing together. 10 days ago I finally had reconstructive surgery using part of my hamstring and this morning I had my first meeting with the physiotherapist. The reason it took so long for me to have the surgery was because the post-op means not being able to walk without crutches for at least two weeks, not being able to drive for three, and months and months of rehab (this visit to the physio is only the beginning of a long process). At the time of my injury my youngest child was only 2 and I just couldn’t see myself in bed for that long and relying on Daniel to hold the fort.
So I waited till the kids got older, and this year Mia (5) has started kindergarten. All the kids, from the oldest in college to the youngest, are taking the bus, which means less driving for Daniel. So I did it.
The pain after surgery was intense and at night I still wake up from the sensation of someone stabbing my knee with a sword. I stopped taking painkillers 2 days after because I had such a bad reaction (the room would spin in colors worse than the gondola ride in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and as a result I was nauseous). I couldn’t wait to get all the drugs out of my system. I don’t understand how people can get addicted to painkillers when they make you feel so horrible. Currently I take a couple of Ibuprofens before bed and when the pain starts in the early morning I just grit my teeth and bear it because the alternative of spinning rooms and breaking out into a cold sweat is far worse.
I’m a lot better now but the first week after surgery I was stuck in bed and I was able to read three good books. I read “Empire of the Sun” by JG Ballard (yes, that film by Steven Spileberg was based on the book). I read this before and after surgery, in a haze of hospital light and anesthesia and painkillers. It somehow made me feel closer to Jim, the narrator, who is living his own private existence during the war that seems different from everyone else’s and in the end, more real. Then I read “Enduring Love” by Ian McEwan (he of “Atonement”) which was absolutely brilliant and disturbing and strangely satisfying. And finally I read the third part of the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins called “Mockingjay”, a gift from my sweet, thoughtful cousins in Maryland. Not as good as the previous two in my opinion but the very last chapter is well done.
The unsung hero in all this has been Daniel, who for the past week and a half has been managing the household solo, in the mornings making sure all four kids have breakfast and catch the bus, and in the evenings doing supper, homework, dishes and preparing lunches for the next day. In between all that he has been serving all my meals in bed. Then there is laundry, walking the dog, taking me to my appointments and of course, work. At night he has been falling asleep before 10 pm, he is so exhausted. And he hasn’t complained once.
In one of my pain-filled, room-spinning stupors, I was scribbling in a notebook all the things I couldn’t wait to do once I’d be back on my feet and fit and moving again. If you’d asked me before surgery what that list would have included I would have said:
1. playing soccer
2. snowboarding
3. running on the beach and jumping into the waves
4. renovating my kitchen
All things I wasn’t able to do after my injury (well, except for the kitchen). However, after surgery, here is some of what I wrote:
1. Going on a date, having a meal and walking downtown with Daniel
2. Cuddling up on the couch with Daniel and watching BBC murder mysteries
3. Reading to the kids
4. Playing board games and street hockey with the kids
5. Running with Nelly in the woods
6. Cooking and baking; having a hot chocolate and sitting by the fireplace.
7. Curling up with a good book and blanket and some snacks
It’s all stuff I do all the time anyway! In my moments of pain and disorientation, these were the images I kept coming back to so I would be comforted.
I was telling all of this to my dear cousin Claudine (somewhat sheepishly since it all sounded so dull) and she made a wise observation. She said it showed I was happy with my life.
I’d never really thought about it that way, but I guess it’s true. When I got rid of all the stuff that was cluttering my thoughts, like the desire for a brand new kitchen or the excitement that comes with feeling young and intense while playing competitive sports – when all that was gone and I was down to the barest existence, the images I held on to were those of simply being with my family and enjoying our everyday lives. It was a bit of an eye-opener, let me tell you, and it was probably worth going through surgery to realize this.
