Hello, it’s me – your failed blogging friend.
I’ve been very busy, and also experiencing an emotional roller coaster regarding my arm these last several days.
First of all, I had a very nice Mother’s Day weekend and I hope you did too.
Two of my three kids were at the house visiting.
I enjoyed spending the weekend with them.
We went out to a beautiful brunch.
My oldest son has an internship in Southern California this summer.
He’ll be staying here with me for a couple weeks, and then moving into a temporary residence closer to his employer (but still in SoCal) for the remainder of the summer.
I’m happy that two of my three will be relatively nearby for the summer.
Second, I’ve been doing more shopping than normal because I have several weddings and/or events I’ll be attending relatively soon.
I hate to shop so most of it has been online.
But nonetheless, I’m going to try to get another “favorite things” post up VERY soon.
Third, there has been a lot of “Arm Stuff” going on recently.
I’ve been excited to see my strengthening progress at physical therapy.
I’m up to two and a half pounds!!
I know that probably sounds like nothing to most of you, but it’s cause for celebration to me.
Last Monday, I was at PT in the morning, and up in Los Angeles with my surgeon in the afternoon.
(It was such a LONG day!)
I have a lot of uncertainty and insecurity surrounding my arm.
My medical case … nearly 11 years and 12 surgeries on one arm … is so far from normal, no one knows for certain what the future holds for me/my arm.
At PT, I feel excited and hopeful by being able to use a two and a half pound weight.
But, driving to see my surgeon I was filled with anxiety.
I was certain he’d tell me I’m failing to progress as I should, and give up on me.
(A “normal” person would be able to do much more four and a half months post surgery. In fact, a “normal” person would probably be done with physical therapy. I SEE normal people at PT, and I watch them pass me up time and time again.)
If my surgeon stops writing me prescriptions for physical therapy, I’ll no longer receive insurance coverage.
How long will I be able to afford it on my own?
Will I regress the minute I stop?
I got myself all stressed out worrying about it as I fought traffic on my way to L.A.
Can I just say I will be forever grateful to Dr. Itamura for being the ONLY orthopedic surgeon (out of many) to understand the complexities of my damaged arm?
He’s a living hero.
But still, I faced my four month post surgery visit with trepidation.
Dr. Itamura said I’m doing “excellent!”
Can you believe it?
He’s not cutting me off from physical therapy, and he fully understands/expects me to progress at a very different rate than a person who had one or two surgeries.
He even hugged me as I was leaving – he’s truly happy for me and for how far I’ve come.
I left his office on Cloud 9!
I had talked to both Paul Newman and Dr. Itamura about beginning some yoga classes.
Both of them feel it’s okay, but they know I would need to adapt certain things for my one-arm-ness.
I had been referred to the owner of a yoga studio who, I was told, had worked with a man with one arm.
Perfect, for me – right?
I was excited because at last I was going to start doing something normal people do … just with a few modifications.
So, imagine how I felt today when the Ms.Yoga contacted me and turned me away.
She, apparently, doesn’t feel like I would be able to do yoga – and/or that it could be modified for me and/or – maybe she just felt like I’m not worth her time.
(I had offered to pay for private lessons initially so it WOULD be worth her time to help me learn some adaptations/modifications, but she said …. no.)
Maybe the one armed man came to her already knowing how to do yoga one armed?
I wish I knew him/or how to find him so I could ask who taught him.
You would think I could just brush this off, right?
But no, it made me want to cry.
Time and time again I reach out for normality, and time and time again I get thwarted.
I was really excited to start yoga.
I feel incredibly discouraged.
I keep pushing for a sense of normalcy and I keep running into brick walls.
It will be 11 years since the accident on July 30th.
I’m better than I’ve been that entire time …
And yet, I’m still not good enough.
I’m still the person being told, “Sorry, the things you want to do in your life are not going to happen.”
It makes me mad.
It makes me sad.
Momentarily, it makes me want to give up.
But, only momentarily, because if I’ve learned anything about myself these last eleven years,
It’s that I never, ever, give up.