Need a little patience, yeah
Just a little patience, yeah
Some more patience, yeah
Could use some patience, yeah
Gotta have some patience, yeah
All it takes is patience
Just a little patience
Yeah. I’m not so good with the whole patience thing. I tried to learn it while I was lifting. And I would argue that to some degree I did. Someone said that it was my impatience that led to me getting hurt. Ironic now that I need more patience than ever.
When I went to PT a couple of days ago – my third session that week — the therapist asked me how I was doing and I dissolved into tears. It had been five days since my diagnosis — I wanted to give him good news. But instead I’d had the worst morning yet, quite literally thinking I might pass out from the pain. He’s a kind and encouraging man, understanding and sympathetic, which almost makes me feel worse. “It’s going to be tough early on,” he said.
Early? I’ve been in pain at this point for 10 days. Yes, I’m counting. “It’s still acute,” he replied. So I’m not even out of the initial phase. There’s such a long road ahead, especially for an impatient patient who is anxious to get back into a gym. At least he understands this. “Getting active is going to be really important for you mentally, and important to your recovery,” he said. And he gave me to go-ahead to add a 10-minute daily walk to my 30 minutes of pool walking. I was equal parts thrilled and despondent that I was thrilled at permission to freaking walk for 10 freaking minutes.
The session lasted almost 2 hours. The bright spot was how easy the core work was — the ab machine couldn’t be made difficult enough for me. The lowlight was that nothing we did relieved the pain. I left hurting as much as when I’d arrived, left foot still numb, the drive home horrible. At least my half hour in the pool helped a bit, both with the pain and to relax me.
I just don’t know how to make myself more patient. It’s like trying to make my hair straight. It’s just not natural. (of course the blonde isn’t natural either, but that’s neither here nor there.) I understand why wanting huge successes and wanting them righthisveryminutedamnit in weightlifting was bad. But what’s wrong with wanting RIGHT NOW to stop hurting, to not go to bed again fearing I’ll wake up screaming into my pillow when I accidentally move in my sleep and jostle my leg? What’s wrong with wanting to wake up in the morning and just get out of bed like any other person and go right to do my business? I can’t bend at ALL the first few minutes I’m up without screaming bloody murder, so sitting down is out of the question. (I’ve seriously pondered ways I might be able to use the bathroom without sitting.) What’s wrong with wishing for the day to arrive that I am not on pain pills and muscle relaxers around the clock? I really have to be patient through this? Really?
Yeah. I guess so. Because a bad attitude will not help me heal any faster. I just so want to recover also from the heartbreak of losing powerlifting, and the way to do that is to find my next physical challenge. But for now I have to satisfy myself with reading up about obscure sports and checking out gym websites. And I really, really have to find a way to learn some patience. Not just to get through this, but to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I can’t go crazy gung-ho for my next sport like I did with my first one. I have to learn to pace myself, to enjoy the journey.
It looks like I’ll have some time to work on that.