The lifecycle of an ongoing emergency

There's a point in time when your pain, fear, or discomfort are just no longer... interesting.

When it starts, you are enveloped in attention. The shock, the confusion, and your own helplessness trigger the quick creation of a huge safety net that cushions the bad news, and the daily challenges.

As time goes by, the shock wears off, the fear becomes mere apprehension as you begin to study the repercussions of your condition, and your pain and discomfort... well, you start to get used to them (most of the time). You also become acutely aware of the discomfort your pain causes everyone else around you, and so - you hide it (at least when you can).

When more time goes by (in my case, a month - more or less), everyone is eager to put it behind them. You/They just can't stay in "crisis mode" for so long. It's not healthy, it's tiring, it's... well... boring. It's not a bad thing. Even you, Mrs-I-love-attention-I-am-a-drama-queen-look-at-me, have grown tired of being the center of attention - for all the wrong reasons.
There's other people too, who have needs and issues. Lives have to go back to normal. Everyone's .
And so - slowly but surely "crisis" becomes "distress" becomes "discomfort" becomes "routine".
As it should.

Except that in this "routine" you are still in as much pain, fear and discomfort as you were when it all started... only now everyone - including yourself - is just fed up with it.

Reflections from a visit to the office

I went to the office yesterday, after having been away for almost a month. “Don’t over-exert yourself”, everyone had said, “don’t go if it’s not mandatory”. And still, I went. The taxi driver loaded my red-and-black wheelchair in the truck, and off we went.
It had only been a few weeks, but even the way to the office seemed changed to me.
Perhaps it was I who was changed.

As I rolled myself into the lobby, my heart was unexpectedly beating hard with excitement. I missed being at work.

Anybody who knows me, even just a bit, knows that I am an attention hog. It’s not something I have developed: my parents claim that even the first weeks after my birth it was clear I liked behind the center of attention. One of my first words was “Mirame”, which is Spanish for “look at me”.
And so, when people crowded around me - asking for the reason I was in a wheelchair, and wanting to know about my condition, I didn’t mind it.
As the day went on, I felt more and more enveloped in affection and caring. Everyone seemed truly concerned about be, everyone appeared to honestly wish I’d get well soon. Everyone had tips and helpful ideas and leads - and I reveled in it.
But I also felt increasingly self conscious… the first look on people’s face when they saw me was one of surprise… with a hint of pity. Some hid the pity, some expressed it, but it was undeniably there. It’s that pity that I had trouble with…
So - while during the first hour I wheeled around - to get a coffee, to speak to a colleague… as the day went on I stayed at my desk more and more, trying to avoid “that look”.

There was so much work to get done, two hours turned into three, then into four, and I eventually I spent 8 hours hard at work - barely noticing the time going by - and not getting out of my chair once.
Big mistake.
The adrenalin of being at the office, along with the painkillers I had taken to get me through the day did a great job of masking the pain that was building up in my leg and hip.
On the way home, I heard it… the small, “i-warned-you-but-you-didn’t-listen” voice saying: “You ignored everyone’s advice, you tried to be a hero, now it’s time to pay”...
And pay I did. All through the evening, and all through night, and still this morning.

Was it my craving for attention that made me cross the line? Was it my uncontrollable workaholism?
Who knows. But it won’t happen again.

Thoughts on unjustifiable tears

When people have asked me whether I am more of a rational or more of an emotional person - I always had a tough time answering the question.
I try to be rational. I manage my life in a rational way. I’ve perfected an analytical process for rational decision making - even when it comes to topics that are categorically not rational.

But the honest to G-d truth is that I am more of an emotional person - driven more by gut than brain, reacting first by heart then by head.

When I gave birth to Daniel, everybody warned me that I would be emotional for a few weeks. “Hormones”, they said. “Will make you cry at anything”. And they were right (although I think that I probably would have cried at everything even without the raging hormones).

Having just had a baby is one of the only times in your life when it is completely legitimate to cry just to release some steam, for no good reason. To cry just because you’re tired, or confused, or because you can’t think of any better way to express yourself.
Under any other “normal” circumstances - such behavior would be considered immature or a demonstration of lack of control. (Which, to be quite frank, is very hypocritical! It take tremendous amounts of control to allow yourself to use weeping as a tool for self expression, then get on with your life and continue to work/communicate with the people around you as if you’ve never shed a tear).

So - crying just for the sake for crying - after birth, is ok.
Obviously on other occasions, crying is also legitimate: mourning, joy, anger, frustration - tears are always allowed and expected - as long as there is a REASON for them.
But crying with no real reason or trigger is hardly ever considered justified.

Which takes me back to the beginning of this post.
Had I been a truly rational person - like I claim to be; like I usually am; Like I am when I am at work, doing business, handling financial affairs, handling political discussions - then I would not be crying for no reason.

Therefore, the only plausible truth is that I am more emotional than I am rational.
Because I now find myself tearing up for no reason.
No pain (pills have taken care of that), no discomfort (bought the best pillows and mattress money can buy), no loneliness (my husband, son, family, friends, colleagues, online friends - all surrounding me with love), no uncertainty for the short term (I have a plan, know who I will be consulting with, when I need to make a decision, it’s all mapped out).
No reason to cry.

And still. I read a few warm words from a colleague - wham --> tears.
I receive an offer to help - wham --> tears.
I close my eyes to rest for a bit - wham --> tears.
I start to write this post - wham --> tears.
No hormones to blame. (Maybe steroids can do this to you?).
Just emotional.

This too, shall pass.
--——————

A friend wrote me something yesterday, that I absolutely LOVED:
“Get well soon? F—k that. Get well NOW.” (Demetri Martin).

My "groudhog day" thought...

It’s surprising to wake up every the morning, and realize - over and over again - that I still cannot feel or move my right foot.

Somehow, despite what the doctors had said, I guess I believed that with time, rest, and meds my leg would slowly return to function.
After all, this is not the first time I have suffered an episode with my problematic back. A couple of episodes I’ve had have been really bad.
But there’s always been moderate daily progress, and therefore, it had always been clear that - in time - the episode will be over.

This time is different.
While my mood and mental state are indeed improving on a daily basis, and the pain is becoming more manageable (or maybe I am just getting used to living with it), the neurological disability is persistent and stubborn.
Which means I will have no choice but to make an “actual” decision.
Which means “I’ll just wait”, “I’ll just rest”, “time heals” is not a viable decision this time.

And that has thrown me for a loop.

I’m good at making decisions - usually.
I diligently collect data, I map out pro and cons, and when I decide which way to go - I follow through like a bulldozer.

But every morning, when I wake up and try to wiggle my toes, I hope against hope I will be spared having to make a decision this time.

No such luck today. Yet.

Insights from a week-long hospitalization at Orthopedic Unit of Sheba hospital

Random thoughts from my last day at the hospital:

The longer you stay hospitalized, the more eager you are go home, the more you invest in doing everything the doc says - even if it hurts.

Hospital food is not so bad, especially when served every morning by a smiling, pretty young volunteer who seems genuinely interested in how you feel.

There are still both wonderful people and crappy people - everywhere - even in hospitals. The crappy night shift man who laughs at your tears for not being able to sleep and ignores your cries for help, and the wonderful people - like the little boy who ran across the hall to help you pick up something you dropped and have trouble picking up, and the teenage girl who noticed your exhaustion from rolling yourself in you wheelchair down the hall, and naturally grabbed the handle of you the wheelchair to quickly take you where you wanted to go. The great things is I think I saw more of the wonderful type, and in most cases it was the younger generation that belonged to this group - and that fills me with optimism about out future.

Sometimes, you are grateful to accept help offered, even if you haven’t asked for it. It’s hard to estimate how difficult or painful something will be before you start doing it, you are used to being independent, and you’re the type that doesn’t like to ask for help. But halfway through what you want to do - you realize help would be a blessing, and wished someone offered.

Many times - someone will. When they don’t - you have to learn to swallow your tongue and just ask for it. It makes it easier.

And just as important - offer it to others, all the time. At worst, they while smile and say “no thanks”. And best, you’ve helped make someone else even a tiny bit better. Totally worth it.

I’m on my way home today. A week at a hospital has left me on the one hand - tired, still pained, and still immobile - but on the other hand, so very grateful for all the great things - my husband, son, family, friends, colleagues, and online communitiy (so much love!) and wiser in many ways.

Now, on the way to recovery. See you in the gym in a few months!