head in the sand

Went to the surgeon's office yesterday for my three-month follow-up, after getting the green light to start walking. I can't believe it's been 5 MONTHS since the accident. Time flies. Time is weird.

I asked the surgeon some questions that have been weighing on my mind. Mainly, when is my leg going to feel normal again?

The answer: never.

It's always going to feel off. It will never feel like my other leg.

It was some stark reality, but I'm glad I know so that my expectations can now be better managed.

I still can't fully sit on my heels or do a full, deep squat. Will this ever be a possibility? Idk. The surgeon said breaking through this scar tissue would be difficult and painful. I'm still doing physical therapy and will probably continue for another six months.

My anxiety is still on maximum, full ten, for the test on Monday. I honestly can't handle any dire news. I need a breather from the firing squad of last year. I almost don't even want to go through with it. I want to duck my head in the sand. Run away. Escape.

But then my mind would no doubt devour me with fear and what-ifs. Why is life so hard?


photograph by Ruth Thorne-Thomsen