Eight weeks post-injury

Yesterday, I took advantage of my newfound permission to drive by going to the grocery store alone. At Winco, they only have large shopping carts. With my one-pound lifting restriction, I had to control the shopping cart with one hand. That’s not as easy as you might think.

Winco is also a grocery store where you pack your own bags. (When you’re on a fixed income, every penny counts.) Usually, this is not a big deal, but it was more challenging than I thought. When I got back to the car, I just sat; I wasn’t sure I was up to driving home. I can hold the steering wheel with my right hand, but my grip is light.

When I got home, I just wanted to burst into tears! Everything was so freakin’ hard! I appreciate how incredible the human body is in its ability to heal, especially with the help of medical science. Yeah, yeah, yeah, but the burden sometimes leads to damp eyes.

Today, I stayed home and found new things to challenge my independence. I discovered I could empty and fill the ice trays, but they were too heavy to return to the freezer by myself. No autonomy for me today. Cooking required help with cutting. When it was time to clean up, I refused to leave my tofu baking pan for my beloved to scrub. That led to frustration at the time it took to scrub baked-on sauce with just my left hand and the ache in my right arm from modest use.

By the evening, I again felt tears lurking and threatening to burst forth. I am grateful for how far I’ve come—I am thrilled much of the time—yet healing comes with not only hope but also discouragement, frustration, and tears.