I cannot fully express how hard I am working or how long the days are.
In some ways I have made great strides...in others, the magnitude of this injury can be overwhelming. I do pretty well all day but am completely exhausted in the evening. My hand and wrist are more flexible each day but I still cannot feel most of my thumb and the end of my middle finger. Typing involves great control and strength and flexibility which I don't always have. I am working harder on this than anything I have ever done. I am training for a marathon each day.
(Outside the coffee shop, next door to PT.)
My physical therapist is so dedicated to my recovery that I strive to make her proud of me. I want to succeed for myself, of course, but I work hard so she realizes how dedicated I am.
(Delivery at the pizza shop.)
Each injury has a story, she tells us while we work at the hand table. some are minor (he went to catch something falling and jammed his finger) some are horrific (a machete nearly severed his hand) but each incident has stopped us in our tracks (she was hit by a bicycle), forced us to re-imagine our lives (we cannot manage wallets and must find different ways to deal with money).
(The most wonderful scarf at Madewell.)
We progress, we encourage each other, we all work hard. People move beyond physical therapy and out into the world, repaired. People don't give as much attention, she tells me. It is her second to last visit.
(Me and K, twenty years from now.)
In the blink of an eye this will be a memory...that time we were in an accident.
But, just for now, just for this moment, while my wrist is aching and my hand is stinging and swollen, it is very real.