Radical Acceptance

I’m muddled today.

It’s world book day so obviously, I had planned on waxing poetic about my favorite subject. Then, life intervened. Albeit not to dramatically my planned story changed overnight. I have been grounded. Forced to slow it down and sit down as things began to crumble, literally right underneath me.

Denying the pain isn’t working anymore. I’ll let the picture speak for itself.

For months I have been in denial. I thought I could do the things I was supposed to do to get better, while still doing the things I wanted to do at the same time. This caused the pain and stress I have been experiencing in my heel to impact my achilles tendon and my bone, the very foundation on which I stand.

The cast will help calm the area and offer comfort for the short term but I need a surgery I am dreading that involves a recovery I can’t fathom. Months ago, when my doctor first mentioned the operation, I heard the recovery was even more difficult than the extremely rough recovery from knee replacement surgery, and I quickly decided it wasn’t for me. No way! You see, almost four years ago I underwent a brutal, full knee-joint replacement. Physical therapy started the day after surgery and continued mercilessly for six months.

Admittedly, my new knee has given me a new lease on life and the surgery was well worth the recovery. I have loved being able to walk in the sand and hike the rocky trails near my home and the thought of losing my activeness again, sends my anxiety into overdrive.

The surgery I need now, involves the removal of a golf ball sized bone spur in the back of my heel. It also entails the debridement (or removal of the inflammatory tissue) from my achilles tendon followed by the repair of the tendon (down to the bone) with strong plastic screws and thick sutures!! Sounds barbarous. Once it’s done, I am to be non weight-bearing for months followed by months more what I know will be ruthless physical therapy.

I could kick myself for not embracing what was happening to me way back when my doctor first warned me but maybe I won’t. Maybe it’s time to change that narrative. It’s probably not the best time to shame and berate myself. As I stare down at my pink cast I’m thinking maybe this is an opportunity to say, ‘I got the message and I am going to take the proper measures to heal as much as I can.’ I am grateful for second and third and fourth chances and I know that human healing never happens overnight.

Whether it is your heart or your bone that’s broken it takes a serious amount of surrender and stillness and as my sister reminds me, radical acceptance, to heal. I know I need to stabilize this fractured foot so it can get stronger and everything on top of it can get stronger too.

For me, I think healing means listening to my body and respecting it when something hurts. It means turning off those demanding loud voices of productivity and efficiency and turning toward true measures of self worth.

I think it’s time I learn to navigate the world with fewer steps, rather than as many steps as possible and I hope I can do that.

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