On Recovery
Last night I went ice skating for the first time since I broke my wrist doing the same thing just over a year ago. It's such a small thing: something I've done several times before with no problems (the ice skating, that is: not the breaking), but taking that first step onto the ice is one of the most difficult things I've done in weeks.
I survived, obviously - no falls or anything, but I spent the entire session hyper-aware of what I was doing with my feet, leading to me being horribly clumsy at the actual skating part of things. I wasn't all that much of a skater before, of course: it's just something I did socially every now and then - but any grace I once had is now gone. It doesn't feel like much of a victory.
Something similar occurred with the ski trip I blogged about a couple of weeks ago: it was my first time skiing in three years and three non trivial injuries, and standing at the top of the first hill not knowing whether my body was going to hold together enough to get me to the bottom is really a nastly feeling. I survived that, too, and even enjoyed it: but my skiing ability is a long way from being what it once was. I am horribly jealous of my less-practiced siblings who are still able to fly down the hill and fall without fear where now analyse every turn.
I hate this - I hate not being able to trust my own joints and sense of balance. I hate the loss of confidence even more: I know logically that I'm not any more likely to injure myself than I ever was in the past, but I can't seem to let go of the thought that it might all happen again, which makes me tense up, trip over things and generally act like either a nervous nellie or a complete hypochondriac. If I'm like this now, I hate to think what being old will be like.
Not to mention the changes in habits: I mouse left-handed these days, carry shopping bags in my left hand only and caught myself last week pushing the shopping trolley with my left hand and right forearm. That was necessary for the eight weeks or so when I was in the splint, but I'm pretty sure I've being doing it ever since. Given that the bone in the wrist that was broken is probably stronger than the other one by now, that's just completely illogical and I'm going to have to make a concious effort to stop.
I survived, obviously - no falls or anything, but I spent the entire session hyper-aware of what I was doing with my feet, leading to me being horribly clumsy at the actual skating part of things. I wasn't all that much of a skater before, of course: it's just something I did socially every now and then - but any grace I once had is now gone. It doesn't feel like much of a victory.
Something similar occurred with the ski trip I blogged about a couple of weeks ago: it was my first time skiing in three years and three non trivial injuries, and standing at the top of the first hill not knowing whether my body was going to hold together enough to get me to the bottom is really a nastly feeling. I survived that, too, and even enjoyed it: but my skiing ability is a long way from being what it once was. I am horribly jealous of my less-practiced siblings who are still able to fly down the hill and fall without fear where now analyse every turn.
I hate this - I hate not being able to trust my own joints and sense of balance. I hate the loss of confidence even more: I know logically that I'm not any more likely to injure myself than I ever was in the past, but I can't seem to let go of the thought that it might all happen again, which makes me tense up, trip over things and generally act like either a nervous nellie or a complete hypochondriac. If I'm like this now, I hate to think what being old will be like.
Not to mention the changes in habits: I mouse left-handed these days, carry shopping bags in my left hand only and caught myself last week pushing the shopping trolley with my left hand and right forearm. That was necessary for the eight weeks or so when I was in the splint, but I'm pretty sure I've being doing it ever since. Given that the bone in the wrist that was broken is probably stronger than the other one by now, that's just completely illogical and I'm going to have to make a concious effort to stop.