(from a less drug induced, but tearful crazy lady)
okay. so. where to begin. i woke-up this morning in tears. do you know that feeling you get after an intense exercise, where your legs are shaky and your body burns? if you're a swimmer-- and, before this shit happened, i swam 90 minutes every day (except sundays)-- then you are used to your shoulders and upper back frying an egg, after an incredibly powerful "push" in the water. it takes a day after a marathon to "come back to earth" and you feel sore, but amazingly calm. well, yesterday in occupational and physical therapy, they dumped my swollen, numb, almost completely paralyzed, useless left hand in ice baths. then, they did a deep tissue massage on the hand, arm, and both shoulder blades. finally, they gave me a lecture all day long...
"be patient" (uh huh, sure...)
"stop overthinking and feel the moment, including your grief and happiness" (yeah, whatever...)
"your hand is an extension of your body. you are not dead. your hand is not dead. your body doesn't forget." (huh.)
last night, i burned. not the "burning alive in the bowels of hell" feeling-- but, the "i just finished the most amazing swim from alcatraz" feeling. my legs were shaky (another post for another time), my muscles were cramping, and i was happy "for the moment." i imagined my swims, the feeling of calm and peace i would have during the push in the cool water. i started to build a story, for the first time in months.
and, for the first time in 7 years, i woke-up with the ability to feel and move my entire left hand.
oh yeah-- and i cried.
this is a long and painful journey. this is a milestone, and a bit of calm in between the bumps. i know that my hand will continue to act like a rebellious teen with the need to test boundaries. for brief moments, i will struggle with the desire to kill it (or, just to say "shut up, you are driving me crazy!")
but, i will never forget the fact that my hand is part of my body-- and, i am not dead.