Sept. 17, 2002 ~ There is nothing quite like
dealing with an injury to make one appreciate the simple things. My back is healing, or for whatever reason I'm able to get around better now, but for awhile there... I had just a hint of what it was like to be an invalid. Have you ever thought about that word, "invalid?" Pronounced another way, it means the opposite of "valid." And that's how I felt, for just a little while. No one enjoys doing nothing. Do they? Not for more than a couple of days, anyway.
Sitting down was impossible, standing up was tiring, and lying in bed made me stiff and sore in no time at all. So I was not able to enjoy my little "vacation," because nothing was fun. It was hard to focus on TV or reading or anything, because there was no way to get comfortable. I had an inkling of what it meant to live with chronic pain. How do people stand it? I don't mean the routine aches and such that we associate with getting older, but pain. I just can't imagine what that must be like. Or rather, I can, and it scares me.
For several weeks, I've been unable to lift anything, have been doing very little, and everything has taken a great effort. I WAS able to do laundry and wash the dishes (by hand), and maybe a couple of other housekeeping chores, but there's a funny thing about that. My guys are hard workers, but none of them seem to have any sort of "housekeeping gene." They do not notice messes or dirt indoors, or if they do, it doesn't bother them. Husband helps with the dishes a couple of times a year, maybe. He works long hours, with much overtime, and he has to do most of the heavy farm chores, too, so housework is pretty much my domain. Until recently. One day I was having trouble walking, just for a couple of minutes, and Husband went into a superhero routine, bounding in front of me to do the dishes. Now this would have been appreciated under normal circumstances, but I really WANTED to do the dishes. Wanted to feel like I was contributing something, even in this small way, to the running of the household. But he insisted on doing the dishes, would not move over, thought it was funny, in fact. To which I said, "Honey, I'm not helpless. Please let me do this. I WANT to do this." And he smiled and said he knew I wasn't helpless but he wanted to help, blah, blah, blah. Well, not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I thanked him graciously for his help. I know he was just trying to be nice. But it felt weird.
After that, my motto became, "I'm not helpless!" After several weeks of being able to do very little, I wanted every opportunity to do what I could. When the guys tried to do some things for me, I had to say, "No, thank you, I can do it. Really. I PROMISE. I'll ask for help if I need it." If that didn't work, I recited "I'm not helpless." It became a joke. But it's important, too. People need to feel useful. That doesn't mean the same thing for everyone, but for me, it meant that I was sick of lying around or standing around and having people jump up and wait on my like I was sick or something. I have little tolerance for being sick.
Now that I'm so much better, I truly appreciate being able to do things again! Sweeping the kitchen makes me smile... because a month ago I couldn't do it. Picking a few tomatoes and peppers (while bending over carefully) is cause for celebration. I can put on real shoes! And last night... pantyhose! This is very, very exciting, when you haven't been able to do it for awhile.
Little things mean a lot.
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