This was a difficult week for surgery recovery. I’m more mobile, but I’m moving more slowly. I can’t find the right combination of socks and boot to be comfortable, but I’m happy that I don’t need to wrap my foot in an ace bandage any longer. My new thick-soled walking shoe makes me feel about 100 years old, but it does make walking easier.
I haven’t gained or lost any weight in my inactivity, but I’m not happy with my body right now. I feel doughy and out-of-shape, because where it used to take a 5K run to feel a certain amount of tiredness, I now feel that after taking 20 minutes to make myself a cup of coffee.
I took a shower on my own this week for the first time since my surgery, but it involved about an hour’s worth of scootching around on the bathroom floor and I needed a nap afterward. The small victories have become more difficult to celebrate because I want to throw down the crutches and walk on my own.
I know that the weight doesn’t matter. But how I feel in my body does. And my body and my brain are at odds right now.
After a week of recovery on the couch with nothing more than baby wipes and dry shampoo to freshen myself up with, I attempted shaving under my arms at the sink this morning. I feel accomplished. And exhausted and ready for a nap.