The realization was sobering: I’m frail.
The skies opened up when I pulled into the driveway yesterday afternoon. I had a production crisis at work waiting when I got inside. I had to get out and make a run for it. So I opened the garage door and sprinted. Three steps into the garage, down I went.
As it turned out, nothing was broken except a mouse and a couple keys on my bluetooth keyboard. I’ve got a decent-sized gouge in my right wrist and a cut on my hand. But this morning, it feels like I flipped my car over seven times and walked away. Everything hurts.
If it were Saturday, I’d spend a good part of the day in bed, but it’s Thursday and I got some heavy chores to do. Bed will come later.
At some point many people wake up one morning with the realization that they can’t do what they used to do. In reality, I’m lucky. There was no permanent damage. My phone and work laptop survived. I have a cut, a gouge, body pain, and a decision to make.
How do I react to this?
It would be easy to wallow in my realization. After all, I have four Tough Mudder headbands. I used to do P90X and Insanity. I pride myself–maybe a little too much–on self-sufficiency. Better people than me have mourned the passing of that part of life–if that’s what this is.
But the Fibro can bring frailty. A fall can cause a spell of increased body pain–as it has in me. That’s probably a permanent part of my life.
On the other hand, I can accept reality, do what I can while the pain hangs on, then wait and see. If the frailty stays, I can use my creativity to find a way to do what I need to. I can bare what I need to and rest when I can and keep a good attitude. I can build a little more empathy for people who don’t bounce back like they used to.
The event itself is neutral. The good and bad is how I deal with it.
I want to do my best to deal with it in a productive, useful way.
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