Dear Diary: Step By Step

I spent every day in the hospital wanting so badly to be home. Tick... tick... tick... But when I shuffled in through my front door a week later, all I could do was cry. There was no more counting the days in the hospital. Day 1... Day 2... Day 3... But now it’s counting the days, weeks, months to recovery. Month 4... Month 5... Month 6... 

Sure, the operation is behind me, but now there are months – a year – of recovery ahead, and absolutely no going back.

So I cried as I mourned the body I’d just lost. My strength. My independence. My ability to walk, move, lift, twist, bend.

I cried in fear of what’s to come. When will the pain stop? When will I feel normal again? When will I be normal again?

Being home and back to ‘reality’ suddenly made everything feel real. Being ‘not okay’ in hospital felt normal, but being ‘not okay’ at home feels sad and strange and scary and daunting.

When I got home, I felt like I should be happy. Or at the very least, relieved. But I couldn’t. Because it’s not over. It’s just beginning.

And I guess all I can do now is keep on pushing forward. Literal step by literal step at a time.