I've started to hope for freedom from the never-ending pain that I've endured for 407 days. Even as I turned down another invitation to socialize, I realized that the time may soon come where I won't have to. I might not have to consider the steps it will take in order to go into a place. I may not have to consider the amount of space I need to walk with crutches, or consider how I will carry an open-top drink or a fast food tray. Very soon, I might be able to carry my things without needing to have extra pockets and bags.
I do not take for granted the amount of work I will need to put into recovery, but I am not afraid of it. I am afraid of forever being bound to home and work alone. The idea of going to the store when I need something--without having to consider parking, or if there will be an electric cart, or if I will be able to carry items if there isn't--is appealing. I hope I am liberated from the crutches.
It will be 60 weeks when I go into surgery. I wonder how many more weeks it will be before I can fully sleep again, and wake without pain. I set lofty goals of ice-skating this winter, riding my bike this fall, fishing next spring and camping next summer, but really, the ideas of sleeping without pain, walking without crutches and not relying on my husband and kids for so many little things are more valuable goals.
In nine days, we find out what has caused over a year's worth of suffering and humiliation. Its a powerful thought to consider the freedom I might actually find.
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