Hello world ...

Three years.  I'm not sure where the time has gone, but it has been just over three years since my surgery.

I was thinking about that as I was driving the car today.  With no proprioception on my right side, I drive with my left foot, and I had that brief, fleeting thought of  "I wonder what it would be like to drive with my real foot".   Yeah.  Common sense prevailed.  No way I'm going to test out whether or not my right foot responds properly to the gas pedal and the brake by hurtling 3 tonnes of killer metal down the street in an effort to "see what it's like".

So, what is it like?

It sucks.  To be honest, I would still trade my old body for my new one, and no amount of telling me "what could have been" will convince me otherwise.  I still miss my stilettos.  I still miss the ability to walk up an down stairs without a handrail.  I still miss not having to focus, all the time, on standing upright. I still miss when my legs didn't talk to me all the time with their incessant neuropathy and complaining.  I still miss the feeling of fit and fabulous that I no longer have.

Is my life normal?  To the outside world, yes. Absolutely.  If you didn't know to look for my disability, you wouldn't know it was there. Do I talk about it?  Almost never. You have to be around me when I can't do something or when my right leg gives out, for me to explain anything to you (which doesn't happen often). Have I adapted my life to my disability?  Absolutely .. your brain is very powerful, and if you are willing to believe you can do anything, it is amazing what you can do. Do I resent having to adapt?  Absolutely.

But, life is what it is, and the rest of my life has been very kind to me.  So I move on. 

This spring I did my first official 5K.  I did a 43:02.  The old me would have laughed out loud at anyone doing a 5K in 43 minutes.  The new me understands that everyone has a story ... that life isn't that simple. The first mile was awful .. mind blowingly, traumatizingly awful.  WTF am I doing, awful.  The second mile was about adapting, getting my head into the game.  The third mile turned into "(s)he is NOT going to finish ahead of me !!   My long buried competitive spirit kicked in.

But that didn't translate into long term change.  I have fought the wallowing, the anger, the resentment, the depression, the "why me", the urge to sleep all day.  Most days I win, some days I don't. 

I can't tell you it's going to be easy for you.  It's not.  I can't tell you you'll win .. I know several people who have let the repercussions of the tumour and the surgery win. All I can tell you is that I fight every day. Still.  If, after three years, I'm still fighting, I don't think the fight will ever end.  It was supposed to get easier, but it didn't.

I'm not lucky, but I'm not unlucky.  Mostly I'm stubborn and determined to "win".  Most days it sucks, but every day I'm glad to be alive.   Special thanks to my neurosurgeon for allowing that to happen.

ps - I'm taking that trip to Machu Picchu I had to miss because of surgery and I will climb those ruins!

Dammit.
:)