Letting go so I can get back up

Jul 24, 2014 by

France to Costa Masnaga, and back again. kinesiotape,pool, whatever it takes

France to Costa Masnaga, and back again. Kinesiotape, acquagym, whatever it takes

Just a few weeks after I leave the rehabilitation hospital Villa Beretta. (VB is the 5th hospital I have been in.) I start to have difficulties to walk again. I decide to wait for my one month control before confiding to my Doctor. I don’t need to say anything to him, 30 seconds of walking beside him and he tells me what I already know  – my walking has gotten worse. Upon further investigation we see that my big toe,(the only toe on my foot where the nerves were not cut) curls under when I stand up or try to walk, preventing me from moving my leg in a correct manner, causing so much pain in my back that walking becomes impossible.

I spend the next week worrying about my current state. I feel every nerve in my body tense with stress.

My doctor schedules 5 days of tests and physiotherapy at Villa Beretta, 40 minutes outside of Milan. I am at our summer home in the South of France when he fixes these appointments. It takes an afternoon of organizing my children so I can go to Milan, then to the hospital for the first 2 days of tests and physiotherapy on my left leg.

The 40 minute drive from Milan to the hospital gives me time to think about the past 11 months since I had my aneurism. Funny, how it always seems that my recovery goes forward, then backward. As I drive up the steep hill where the hospital sits I feel a certain nostalgia. How much easier life was in a place where we were all the same. Where we were all battling to recover parts of ourselves and parts of our lives. In the one month I spent here I had become very close to very few, with nothing in common except the terrible aftermath of our chosen fate.

There is – in no way, any reason to miss this place if not for the fact that it became my protective shell. A desperately needed shell far away from the hard curious stares of all of those that have exactly what I used to have. As the thought passes my mind a wave of emotion so strong washes over me that I have to stop my car. I ask myself the question I have asked myself a thousand times before, and have promised to not ask myself anymore.

Why me?

I start to cry, I can’t be strong anymore. I don’t want to be. I want to stay here in my car and cry. I want my life back. The one where having to walk across a room full of people didn’t make me wince. The one where I could pick up my kids and dance with them. The one where I didn’t have to put a handicapped parking pass on my car, the one where people spoke about something other than what happened to me..

I put my things in the locker for Day hospital patients and go to find my Physiotherapist. My eyes are red and swollen, I don’t care. He looks at me and understands at once. I lie down on the bed before me, I look up into his kind blue eyes, “I’m sorry,” I say, but as soon as I say it I start to cry more.

My physiotherapist Gianni doesn’t blink an eye, he looks deep into my eyes and says “You should be worried if you don’t cry.” and this only makes me cry more. I spend my day in physiotherapy moving my left leg, walking, getting tests done and crying.

Before I leave the hospital I go and see my ex-roomate Gabriella, who I became close to during my stay. We talk about all the things that can only be understood from someone who has passed what I am passing, from someone who has lost a part of themselves and is fighting to get it back. Someone who knows what going back to your life with a disability feels like. We talk for what seems like hours, nothing has changed and yet I am suddenly calm. I know I am not alone and I realize I am already at a great point in my recovery.

I am reluctant to leave even though I know I should..I am not ready to go back out into the ‘real world’ just yet. Not ready to leave these warm protective walls and bright fluorescent lights. In my heart I know I must.

Just as I know I must continue my quest for a full recovery, for as long as it takes.

The time has come to let go, let go of all my fears of what I might not do, to let go of the fake bravery. Let go of it all, cry and be sad. Then get back up.

Ok.. I’m up, now let me show you my video from today!!(day 3)getting back up

 

Related Posts

Share This

2 Comments

  1. Sandy

    Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart (yes, it’s part of a song.) I was singing it as I watched your video with my mute signal since my husband is sleeping. You are always in my prayers.

  2. ANDREA

    Ciao
    mi fa piacere vedere che hai sempre una gran forza e voglia di combattere.
    io ho cominciato a stare meglio quando ho cominciato a lottare per andare Avanti, con una Nuova Vita, apprezzando tutto quello che faccio in piu ogni giorno.
    anche io ho girato ospeali e fisioterapisti per lungo tempo ma la miglior medicina è dentro noi stessi.
    ho trovato la strada per risalire 🙂
    The time has come to let go.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *