There’s Still Life to Live (Blog #652)

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Currently it’s 11:00 at night, and I’m in Nashville with my friend Bonnie and her family. Bonnie’s daughter-in-law and my friend Mallory is turning 30 tomorrow–well, in an hour–so we’re here celebrating. This morning I got up at 8:30 to pack and get ready for all this. I even did a set of my knee rehab exercises before Bonnie picked me up at 11:00. Y’all, Bonnie’s got this cool little convertible, a Volkswagen, and I normally love, love, love riding in it. However, things were a little cramped today, since we traveled with Bonnie’s grand-dog in the backseat, and then there was all our luggage.

Oh yeah, and I just had knee surgery.

The trip was about eight hours. Honestly, all that time in the car was rough on my leg. As a general rule, it feels restless, and it didn’t help today that I was scrunched up like a push-in accordion. That being said, Bonnie and I had plenty of time to talk, and I was even able to read and take a nap. Plus, we stopped a few times for fuel and food, which gave me a chance to stretch. Hell, we had lunch at IKEA in Memphis, and since the food court was in the middle of the freaking warehouse-sized store, I got my slow-cardio in for the day. Slow-cardio because I’m still walking like a one-legged pirate. And whereas I teased Bonnie about making a crippled limp all over God’s green earth for lunch, I probably needed it, since I ate chocolate cake for dessert.

This evening we hung out with Bonnie’s boys (one of whom is married to Mallory), Mallory, and Mallory’s parents. This morning I seriously considered backing out of trip. The whole getting ready process really wore me out. Plus, life has been a lot lately, and it’s taking everything I’ve got just to do my daily rehab exercises and–literally and figuratively–put one foot in front of the other. Anyway, everyone tonight was great. They didn’t ask a thing of me, just let me hang out and even do my rehab exercises in the middle of the living room. And–and, and, and–when I leaned on the handrail to their stairs and broke it, they didn’t even make a big deal about it. Rather, they simply wanted to know if I was okay (I was).

Mallory’s mom said, “I guess we’re not ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) compliant anymore.”

Now it’s close to midnight, and we’re back at Bonnie’s son Tim’s house, which is up two flights of stairs. The good news is that I can actually go up and down them without “too” much trouble, and a week ago this wouldn’t have been the case. Earlier I was thinking of some of my other trips to Nashville in the last couple of years, and I know there were times I didn’t feel great then either–just having gotten over the flu or whatever. But I wouldn’t trade the memories of those trips for anything. My point is that despite my body’s current challenges, I’m glad I’m here. Sure, my chips are down, but there’s still life to live.

Now, in an effort to take care of myself, I’m going to get ready for bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One day a change will come.

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I’m Not in Charge Here (Blog #651)

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This afternoon I had my second physical therapy appointment to rehab my recently repaired knee (I tore my ACL, had surgery). Today they added new exercises–heel raises, balancing on one foot, one-leg presses, and this thing where I sit in a rolly chair, dig my heels into the carpet, and pull myself around the room. Talk about feeling conspicuous. That being said, pretty much everyone in the room today was gimped up in one way or another. One lady was doing leg exercises like I was, another was doing shoulder work, and another was working on her elbow. Hell, even one of the staff members had his leg in a boot and was walking with a cane. I thought, THESE are my people.

For forty minutes I stretched, lifted, and flexed my left leg. The hardest thing was practicing going DOWN stairs, since apparently you bend your knee twice as much going down stairs as you do when you go up them. Anyway, I broke a sweat. But then they wrapped my leg in an ice blanket, and I quickly cooled off. Especially since the machine sprung a leak and squirted water all over my leg and all down my sock. That felt good.

After physical therapy, I came home and took a nap. Seriously, I don’t have a lot of energy and can’t seem to get enough rest. Probably because my leg keeps waking me up at night. I keep telling myself this is normal, that the doctor took a drill bit long enough to tunnel through a stack of two-by-fours and ran it through my leg, so it should be achy, tired, and pissed off. Still, I have a hard time slowing down and giving my body what it’s asking for (rest). For one thing, I’m used to being active. For another, I’m supposed to be doing rehab exercises two or three times a day at home or the gym, and I can’t exactly do those while I’m sleeping.

To be clear, the rehab exercises aren’t so much difficult as they are time-consuming. Originally there were nine exercises, and now I think I’m up to twelve or fifteen, depending on whether I’m at home or at the gym. Again, that’s three times a day. As my mom says, getting better has become a full-time job. Still, it’s paying off. Today my physical therapist seemed impressed with my ability to balance on one leg and said I was actually “ahead of the curve.” So that’s something.

Lately–over the last year–I’ve been trying to lower my standards. What I mean is that I’m used to a certain level of energy and activity, and my body simply hasn’t been consistently capable of that for a while now. So I’m trying to listen to it. My therapist says something big happens whenever you can really give into the universe and say, “Fine, damn it. I’m not in charge here. I’m on your time schedule.” What that big thing is, I don’t know. Probably inner peace or some shit like that. But again, I’m trying, to be okay with how things are right here, right now, to let sleeping as much as possible and doing my rehab exercises be my life for a while.

Okay, I’m off to the gym.

And then to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's never a minor thing to take better care of yourself."

On Cognitive Distortions and Feeling Good (Blog #650)

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Yesterday, upon the recommendation of my physical therapist, I joined a gym–Planet Fitness. It’s like fifty cents a day, so that’s not bad. Anyway, my physical therapist said if I got hooked up with a gym and could exercise/rehab more on my own, I wouldn’t need to be in their office as often. Well, I spent all day today intimidated about going. You know how it is when you haven’t been to the gym in a while. Yesterday while I was touring the place, it was like everyone there had way bigger muscles than me. I guess I got–what do they call it?–the imposter complex.

Like, I don’t belong here.

This afternoon I did my rehab exercises twice at home, at least the exercises I could do without equipment. In between I took a nap, finished reading one book, and started another. Well, sort of started. Over four years ago, shortly after I began therapy, my therapist gave me a book about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), a psychological approach that (like The Work of Byron Katie) suggests that our suffering is directly related to the thoughts we think. And whereas I read about a third of it way back when, for some reason I never finished it. But then I pulled it off the shelf today as a prop for one of my exercises and decided to pick up where I left off.

This ended up being the perfect thing, as I applied some of the book’s techniques to my hesitation about going to the gym. For example, in addition to my rehab exercises, I’ve been wanting to try some resistance band exercises for my upper body, some stuff I saw online, but I didn’t really know where to start. I thought, If I can’t do this perfectly, I don’t want to do it at all. The book calls this All or Nothing Thinking, and, like the other Cognitive Distortions it lists, always leads to suffering and not Feeling Good. (The book is called The Feeling Good Handbook by David D. Burns.) Also, I thought, Other people will think I’m weird because I walk funny. The book calls this Jumping to Conclusions, which includes Mind Reading (assuming you know what other people will think) and Fortune Telling (assuming things will turn out badly).

Simply identifying these thoughts as Cognitive Distortions was enough for me to “snap out of it” and remind myself that 1) I’m no stranger to a gym and am capable of asking for help if I need it, 2) I’m going for my health and not for anyone else’s approval, 3) any progress is good progress, and 4) what other people think of me is none of my business, and besides, if they’re anything like me, they’re probably mostly worried about themselves.

So I went. Granted, I waited until this evening so they’d be fewer people (and more parking spaces), but I went. And get this shit–it was fine. For a little over and hour, I did my knee rehab exercises and even used the stair machine and stationary bicycle. (The only cardio machine I’m not cleared to use is the elliptical.) Plus, I did a couple sets of resistance band exercises. Part of me thinks, Yeah, but it was only twenty repetitions, but the book says that’s Discounting the Positive, the way you might brush off a compliment about how good you look by saying, “Ugh, I still have five more pounds to lose.” Never mind the fact that’s you’ve already lost thirteen.

So I’m not going to do that. Going to the gym is going to the gym. Twenty repetitions is twenty repetitions.

Before I left the gym, I realized I was actually having a good time, moving my body, learning new things, listening to my headphones. It was even nice to be around other people, even though I didn’t talk to anyone except the folks at the front desk. But I did see one girl who had a prosthetic leg, and that helped put things in perspective. I thought, I just injured a leg; I didn’t lose one. As much as anything, I’m proud of myself for going, for not only stepping outside of my comfort zone, but also for pushing myself ever so slightly.

Now it’s after midnight, and despite my nap this afternoon, I’m ready for bed. My body really wants to sleep. My brain, however, is thinking that I NEED to come up with a really great ending. The book would call this a Should Statement, as in, I should deprive myself of sleep and come up with something better than “the end.” But again, that line of thinking doesn’t lead to Feeling Good, so I want to recognize it for what it is–an imposter–a thought that doesn’t belong here. Or is at least one that’s no longer welcome. In it’s place I’m thinking, This doesn’t have to be perfect. You’ve done enough today. Give yourself a break.

The end.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you're not living a fully authentic life, a part of you will never be satisfied.

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Me and My Physical Therapist (Blog #649)

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Thirteen days ago I had knee surgery to repair my ACL in my left knee, and this morning I saw my surgeon to follow up about it. First, his nurse removed my (17) staples. Then he showed me pictures from the surgery (two of which I’ll share momentarily) and said it went well. In terms of my progress, he seemed impressed, especially with the facts that I’m off crutches, out of a brace, and bending my knee more than 90 degrees. “If I were being picky, I’d say you need to straighten your leg more, but it’s not bad,” he said.

Ever the perfectionist, I now have a new goal.

The surgeon said I should see continual progress for the first two or three months. “That’ll be exciting and keep you motivated,” he said. “But then you’ll forget anything was ever wrong, and whereas I want you to forget at some point, I don’t want you to forget before six months and do something stupid like jump a ditch.” Then he explained that six months is how long it takes to get blood flowing to the newly constructed ACL, which is why I have to be ever-so-gentle with it until then. That means no swimming, jumping, or planting and turning (as in spinning, pivoting, or–um–dancing).

Here’s a picture of my old ACL. It looks sad, frayed, and lifeless because I completely tore it away from the bone. Personally, it reminds me of sushi.

Here’s a picture of my new ACL, which the surgeon constructed from my patellar tendon. Talk about pretty. (Don’t be jealous; I’m sure yours looks nice too.) Note that tendons are stronger than ligaments, which is why some surgeons (mine included) prefer to reconstruct the ACL (a ligament) using the patellar tendon (a tendon, duh) rather than a hamstring (another ligament).

After leaving the surgeon’s office and killing time at a coffee shop reading a book, sipping tea, and propping my foot up on a chair (in order to straighten my leg), I had my first official physical therapy appointment. And whereas I was nervous about whether or not I’d jive with the guy, all my fears were immediately laid to rest. He’s awesome. Not only has he been at this for twenty years, but he’s also worked with my surgeon for a long time, and they’re on the same page in terms of objectives and timelines. Plus, he spent a lot of time today really explaining what happened both when I injured myself and during surgery.

“Your ACL is nothing but a tie-down,” he said. “If you had a bicycle with two straps holding it on the back of a trailer, and you cut one strap, the bike would fall over. It’s the same with your knee cap.” Which explains why things felt loose immediately after my injury. My PT (physical therapist) said he’s known people who have lived decades without their ACL, but they end up literally rubbing their bones together, and that causes a lot of problems later in life. “The whole point of the surgery you had is to get you back to doing what you were doing before without additional issues down the line,” he said.

The physical therapy itself wasn’t too complicated. Granted, it was more than I’ve been doing at home, but it wasn’t painful or grit-your-teeth awful. A few stretches, some mini-squats, some leg lifts, some stair-climbing. Then my guy hooked me up to a STEM machine, a device that uses electrical impulses to make your muscles (my quad muscles) twitch and fire. At the same time, he wrapped my knee in another device that was basically a giant leg condom filled with cold water (pumped in by a machine through an attached hose) to reduce swelling. I didn’t take any pictures of this, but here’s a picture of my swollen and bruised leg from this morning. No wonder my ankle’s been hurting.

My PT also explained why my leg has felt achy–because the surgeon used a drill bit as long as my forearm to tunnel through my leg bones. “Oh, that explains it,” I said. Then my PT showed me an animated (not real) video of how the surgery actually went down. Y’all, it’s totally crazy. He took the middle third of my patellar (kneecap) tendon out, along with two pieces of bone attached to it (one at either end; supposedly the holes from which the bones were taken will fill in over time). Then he sewed up the outer two-thirds of my patellar tendon and used that big drill bit to tunnel through my leg on a diagonal. (The ACL and its tie-down buddy, the PCL, criss-cross through the knee–I think.) Then he fished the new ACL through the tunnel and attached the bone pieces to other bones with screws. “That thing ain’t going nowhere,” both my surgeon and my PT said.

Is that wild or what? And seriously, no wonder recovery is a long process. I’ve been cut up and put back together. Along the way, I’ve gained an inch in circumference around my kneecap (from swelling) and lost an inch in circumference around my thigh (from muscle atrophy). “How long will it take to get those muscles built back up?” you might ask. A year. A full year because muscles are made from slow-twitch fibers and fast-twitch fibers, and I can’t use my fast-twitch fibers until six months post-surgery (since they’re the ones used for jumping, sprinting, etc., and that stuff, as already explained, is off-limits). And whereas a week ago this slow recovery process disheartened me, today I’m okay with it, I’m assuming because I have more information than I did before, because I actually understand both what’s happened and what’s happening.

Never underestimate the power of information.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure there’s a rehab exercise I need to be doing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be more discriminating.

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Bending Is Trending (Blog #648)

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It’s 10:45 at night, and I’ve spent most the day in bed, either icing my knee, reading a book, or taking a nap. My body seems to want a lot of rest. I can’t imagine why. When I haven’t been in bed, I’ve been on the floor, doing rehab exercises for my left knee, which was operated on twelve days ago. And whereas for over a week there’s been a point at which my knee’s said, “That’s it, I’m not going any farther,” today something gave, and it went past that point. That is to say, now I can bend my knee more than ninety degrees. Let’s hear it for progress. Just in time for my checkup with my surgeon tomorrow.

Maybe I’ll get a gold star.

What’s fabulous about this progress is that a lot of pain wasn’t involved in getting there. In other words, I didn’t have to grunt and groan and force myself to bend my knee more. Rather, while doing a particular exercise, it was like I was no longer driving with the brakes on. Something simply let go, and I had more range of motion. Of course, it may be that certain muscles have become stronger and are able to pull more than before. I don’t know all the mechanics involved in moving one’s leg, but I have noticed that my left quad is starting to flex more, so that could be it. Regardless of the inner workings of my knee, I’m thrilled that my bending is trending.

Putting on pants will be much easier now.

Inspired by my friend Sweetie Berry, this afternoon I performed what she calls A Fifteen-Minute Miracle, which is a quick, simple act to organize your life, get yourself together, or move forward on a creative project. In my case, I cleaned up a piece of furniture in my room on which I’ve been stashing “everything” since before my surgery. And whereas it wasn’t a huge mess, things had piled up, since walking has been hard and it’s been easy to toss stuff there. Anyway, it took a couple miracle sessions to get everything thrown away, put up, or rearranged, but it really was easiest thing.

Here’s before.

Here’s after.

One of the things I had to decide while cleaning up was what birthday, thanksgiving, and Christmas cards I was going to keep. Typically I hold on to cards for a month or two then toss them. This is the minimalist in me; things don’t pile up that way. But today I decided to hang on to a few “special” cards and take a picture of a few others that touched my heart or made me smile. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a big deal to hang on to cards, and I also use throwing them away as a reminder to be as present as possible. What I mean is, whenever I throw a card away, I think, The past is over. This is my life now.

This is a mantra I’ve used a lot lately. The past is over. This is my life now. Earlier I watched an eight-year-old video of me teaching a dance class. God, how so much has changed–my haircut, my weight, all my clothes, and definitely my left knee. I kept looking at my legs move across the floor thinking, I wish I could do that. But this is a recipe for misery, comparing the now-you to the old-you. Recently I watched a video of Byron Katie walking in a cast. She says, “Am I slow or am I fast? If you don’t compare–don’t know, don’t know.” In other words, if we’re not measuring ourselves against our former selves or anyone else, we’re simply left with this moment, right here, right now.

Life’s funny. One day you can bend your knee, the next day you can’t, and then you can again. Your room’s a mess for a while, and then it’s not. Is one thing really better than another? No. More pleasant, maybe, but everything has its time. And whereas I often try to hurry things along and push-push-push my life and health in the direction I want them to go, the truth is that everything not only has its time, but everything takes its time. Which is hard, the fact that changes often happen so slowly. Granted, it’s good for growing character and patience, but not much else. (Oh wait, character and patience are kind of everything.) And so I come back to this moment, in which I’m learning to bend more than I thought I could.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Both sunshine and rain are required for growth.

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On Tumbling Down the Hill (Blog #647)

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It’s after midnight, and I just finished my third set of rehab exercises for the day. Phew. It was a little tough to squeeze all three sets in today, since I did a lot of running around. Well, limping around. My left knee still doesn’t allow me to do a lot. I can walk, but not fast. Still, people keep saying it really is amazing that I’m no longer on crutches. Personally, I’m over it, ready for this nightmare to be finished. Every day I wake up, slog my way through my rehab routine, and pretend this isn’t my life. Then I go to bed, wake up the next day, and discover it still is.

This afternoon I helped a friend take down their outdoor Christmas lights, and you should have seen us. A senior citizen and a crippled trying to bend down and unwrap a string a of lights from around a tree trunk. We used every curse word we knew. But we did it–we did it! We even made a trip to Walmart for a storage bin, and I managed to not only get in and out of their low-riding car, but also drag my bum leg halfway across the store and back. My friend suggested I use one of those little scooters, and I said, “I do have SOME pride left.”

On the way home from Walmart, my friend and I stopped at Walgreens to pick up anti-inflammatories for me. (I forgot them at Walmart.) Then we grabbed some fried chicken and took it back to their house for dinner. There we laughed and laughed. I don’t even remember about what. I just remember that for a while, I didn’t remember any of my problems.

That was nice.

When I left my friend’s, I met my other friend Bonnie, and we went to see a movie–Mary Poppins Returns. Ugh. Talk about a delightful show. I laughed, I cried, my life was changed. Stop everything you’re doing and go see it now.

There’s a big dance number in the show called Trip a Little Light Fantastic. And whereas I spent the entire song jealous of all the dancers with working knees (that bend and everything), it really was glorious, about how things are always darkest before the dawn and how “if a spark can start inside your heart, then you can always find the way.” This is honestly the hardest thing, hanging on to hope when all the evidence in your life would suggest you do otherwise, keeping your chin up when you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.

I don’t mean to sound glum. At last night’s theater party, I congratulated a friend on their good year (they’d said they’d had one on Facebook), and they asked how mine was. “Terrible,” I said. Later I thought, It wasn’t all bad. Some really lovely things happened. Funny how we classify our days years as good and bad when they’re really a mixture of both. Still, it’s obvious that some days and some years are easier than others. Maybe we fall in love, get a new job. Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Or maybe we have our heart broken, lose our job. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after.

Personally, I don’t mind saying that last year sucked. I was sicker than I’ve ever been, broker than I’ve ever been, and alone as I’ve ever been. Oh, and just before Christmas, I fucked up my knee. And whereas I really wish I could tell you that I’m now on the other side of all this terror, I can’t. Am I making progress? Yes. Is it over? Not at all.

In my Facebook memories today, there was a quote by Stephen R. Covey I shared years ago–“You can’t have the fruits without the roots.” And that’s one thing I can say about this piece-of-shit last year. I grew some serious roots. Despite all the above-ground nonsense, maybe because of it, I now feel more grounded than I ever have. I’ve confronted everything that terrifies the crap out of me, and I’m still standing. Mostly on one leg, but still. And sure, I want the fruits, the outward signs that things are going my way, that this is my year. But roots first, fruits second, that’s what Stephen said. Plus, in the movie tonight–and I don’t think I’m giving anything away here–the day was saved literally at the last-minute. So you never know what life has up its sleeve. You never know when help is on the way. At some point, the dawn has to break. Jack and Jill can’t tumble down the hill forever.

[As an interesting aside, according to Wikipedia, apparently some of the earliest versions of the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme were actually about Jack and Gill, two boys.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The more honest you are about what's actually happening inside of you, the happier you are.

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This Is Your Year (Blog #646)

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Last night I didn’t sleep well again. Achy leg and all that. Ugh, this injured leg of mine is really becoming an around-the-clock nuisance. Still, things are improving. I’m experiencing less pain whenever I stand up now, and it’s easier to bend my left knee than it was even a few days ago. This means that it’s easier to change pants, put on my shoes, and get in and out of the shower. Huge. Of course, I’m still walking like someone with a war injury, but everyone keeps telling me that will get better. “You’re doing great,” they say. “You’ll heal quickly,” they say. “You’re young,” they say.

“Could you repeat that last part?” I say.

This afternoon I ran an errand in Northwest Arkansas and came across a random sign that said, “This is your year.” And whereas I know the sign was put there for thousands of random shoppers and onlookers, it felt like it was put there just for me. Or rather, since I only went to that part of town on a hunch, for fun, maybe I was put there for it. Either way, I hope it’s right. God, I hope it’s right.

After my errand this afternoon, I came home, did my rehab exercises, and got stuck in my head. You know how sometimes a cloud surrounds you. Well, I’d planned to go to a party at the little theater (for anyone who’s been in or worked a show there this last year) and seriously considered ditching it. I thought, I don’t want to take a shower; I’d rather stay here and mope. But then I thought, Get out of the house, Marcus. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This ended up being the best thing, cleaning up and putting on my suit. Hell, I even blow-dried my hair. Talk about feeling good.

The party tonight’s theme was “casino royale,” thus the giant playing card in tonight’s main photo. Anyway, it was absolutely fabulous. First of all, there was food. Second of all, there were dozens of friendly faces, all my favorite theater folks. Plus, all the members of our improv comedy group–The Razorlaughs–were there. All this to say that there was a lot of neck-hugging, catching up, and laughing. It was the perfect thing.

When I left tonight’s party, I walked out with friends and made tentative plans to hang out later this week. Then another (new) friend said, “We should get together sometime,” and I said, “I’d love that.” I don’t know, it was the weirdest thing, how I’ve had this cloud hanging around me the last few days (or weeks), and at some point this evening, it lifted. Maybe not completely, but a lot. And it’s not that any of my problems have changed or magically solved themselves. I still have a bum leg, still don’t know what I’m doing with my life, etc. But I was reminded tonight multiple times that I’m not alone, and that really does go a long way. Yes, a little friendship and a little encouragement are just the thing for cloud-parting.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some days, most days, are a mixed bag. We cry, we laugh, we quit, we start again. That's life. In the process, we find out we're stronger than we thought we were, and perhaps this is healing.

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The Universe Is Upside Down (Blog #645)

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Two good things that happened today–

1. I got rich, bitch

Well, sort of. Just before Christmas and my knee surgery, I made at a cash deposit through my bank’s night-time drop box. And whereas the deposit showed up online the day after Christmas, it was for MORE than what I’d written down. A hundred dollars more. For the last week, I’ve continued to check online thinking someone had made a mistake, but nothing’s changed. Maybe I miscounted, I thought, grabbed an extra hundred.

Like I had an extra hundred to grab.

Anyway, now that I’m semi-mobile, I went to the bank today to inquire about the matter. For twenty to thirty minutes, I watched a very kind teller run back and forth, checking his computer, pulling out deposit slips, asking people questions. Finally, he came back and said that yes, there’d been a mistake. “However,” he said, “our books still balance.”

“So what are you saying?” I said.

“I’m saying don’t worry about,” he said. “You can keep it. Merry Christmas.”

Merry Christmas indeed.

Thanks, universe!

2. Someone was kind

After going to the bank, I went to Walmart for knee Bandaids and foods rich in potassium, since my legs have been achy and restless at night and I’m thinking it might have something to do with my electrolytes. (Or maybe the fact that one of my legs was recently cut open and severely traumatized.) Anyway, this was a serious chore, walking all around a damn warehouse, since I move with all the agility and speed of a slug. Everyone was passing me–people with canes, people in wheelchairs–everyone. Talk about being self-conscious. But then at the checkout line an old man, with a beard like Moses, step backed and waved me ahead. “You go first,” he said.

I think the phrase for what I immediately experienced is “cognitive dissonance,” that feeling that something is out of order. An old man making concessions for a whippersnapper like me. But I’m learning that the universe is out of order. The universe is upside down. At least from how we think about it. We think we don’t deserve something, that we’re not worthy of all the good in the world, and yet there the world is, offering all its goodness to us constantly.

Well, at least a couple times a day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The truth doesn’t suck.

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On Being Decapitated (Blog #644)

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It’s 11:17, and this needs to be quick, since I didn’t sleep so hot last night and need to get some rest. Well, wait, I did sleep hot. That’s part of the problem. Not only did I keep waking up in the middle of the night half-terrorized by crazy dreams, but I also woke up hot. That is, sweating. Granted, I don’t think I had a fever, but my hair and shirt were soaked. This happens sometimes when my body is under stress or something is “off.” Anyway, I need to turn in earlier tonight, and I still need to blog and do one more set of rehab exercises.

The rehab exercises, I think, are definitely paying off. Today I’ve been getting around pretty well and have even been able to carry semi-large items from here to there. Earlier when I took tonight’s picture, I even got my left leg to bend a little more than 90 degrees, 90 degrees being my goal. (In the picture it looks like it’s my right leg that’s bent, but it’s actually my left. Camera flip or whatever.) Anyway, this is progress. Earlier tonight a couple called about dance lessons starting later this month, and I didn’t even mention my knee surgery. Sure, I’ll have limitations in what I can demonstrate, but they’re beginners. Plus, just to be sure, I “walked” through a basic dance step a few hours ago. And get this shit. I did it.

This afternoon I took a shower. Not to be gross, but that’s only happening about every two or three days. Hell, that was the case BEFORE surgery, but especially now. It really does take a lot of effort with a stiff knee–getting in and out of the tub, carefully standing up or sitting down. Thankfully, I’m getting to the point where my left leg can bend and actually help me stand or lower. Before that job belonged solely to “righty,” and “lefty” was simply dead weight. I noticed in the shower today that my left leg is distinctly yellow. I knew it was bruised before but realized this afternoon that the bruising extends further than I realized. Ugh. This is a big damn deal. The whole thing, I mean. As if the seventeen staples in my knee weren’t enough to convince me of that fact.

But back to my keeping this short so I can get some rest. Last night I dreamed that I was in an old church (a common dream place for me), and there was a group of athletic students jumping from one set of tall scaffolding to another. There was one student, a girl, who made the jump successfully a couple times, but then felt hesitant and fell to her death. No shit, there she was on the floor, decapitated. Talk about gross. No wonder I didn’t sleep well. Anyway, I’ve been chewing on this all day, and here’s what I’ve come up with. First, girls represent one’s intuitive or feeling side, and the girl’s feelings of hesitation and failure (I’m assuming she felt failure on the way to her death) mimic my own feelings regarding my dance jump that went seriously wrong and resulted in my having to have surgery. Second, I think the fact that the girl “lost her head” has something to do with keeping one’s head and heart together.

I’ll explain.

Recently I had a conversation with a friend about integrity. Not integrity in a moral sense, although I guess that would apply. Rather, integrity as I see it is concerned with having one’s head and heart lined up. Or, said another way, having all parts of your body and soul on the same page and working together. In the dream, the girl was hesitant, meaning her head was saying one thing and her heart was saying another. I can think of a number of situations in my life where my head and heart are likewise conflicted. For example, my body (as I see it, my heart) is currently asking me to slow down and take care of myself. My head, however, is set on being “productive.” This, of course, is a conflict and amounts to my being “separated” or “decapitated” in dream terms. So I’m working on it, on listening to my heart and getting all parts of myself on the same page. This is no small task.

That’s okay. I have time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Beating yourself up is a far cry from self-respect."

On Bending (Blog #643)

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Last night I blogged with a headache. Talk about no fun. Then I watched Netflix and ate popcorn by the handful out of a five-gallon tin. Followed by three scoops of ice cream. Then I went to bed, still with a headache, but I guess it disappeared sometime during the night. Weird how problems can be so “in your face” then slowly and silently fade away like a ghost through a wall. I have about ten pounds I wish would do that. I know, the popcorn and ice cream aren’t helping that wish come true.

You don’t have to rub it in.

Today has been all right. (Yes, just all right.) Honestly, all my days are beginning to look the same. Eat a meal, do knee rehab (while watching Netflix), ice knee (while still watching Netflix), repeat. Today I did finish reading a book about business that I started before Christmas, but otherwise it’s been zoning out on Netflix and movies. Just today I finished the series Atypical (which I discussed last night), and watched the movies Dumplin’ (which is about the overweight daughter of a former beauty queen and made me cry) and The Shape of Water (which is about a woman who falls in love with a sea creature and was obviously weird but beautiful). Then I started back on Season 2 of Ozark, about a family in Missouri who’s laundering money for a Mexican drug cartel. It’s so good.

And stressful.

Honestly, I can’t wait to get back to the series. Not that I’m so wrapped up in it, although I guess I am. I just want to zone out, escape. For one thing, it’s cold and gloomy outside. Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) or whatever. For another, life’s been tough lately, and I’ve had enough. Normally I’d be up and on the go, distracting myself that way. But since I had knee surgery only a week ago today, going places isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. Plus, every time I stand up, sit down, take a step, or do rehab, I’m reminded of what my body CAN’T do. I’m reminded of everything that hurts. And it’s frustrating as hell. Thus all the binge watching and pop corn and ice cream eating.

Shove those feelings down!

Despite my frustration, I do see progress. Standing up today hasn’t hurt nearly as bad as it has for the last week, and my knee is bending more. Like, earlier I draped it off the side of the couch, and a few days ago that would have been unthinkable, since its default position was “straight out” and I didn’t have enough muscle strength/control to get my foot to the floor without manually picking it up and putting it there. So that’s something. Things are improving. I’m not dancing the jitterbug, but hey, I’m BENDING.

The doctor said my goal was to bend my leg 90 degrees by the two-week mark, and I’m pretty much there now. (Go me.) But that’s it; I can’t go farther than 90. I just hit this point where all my muscles say, “Hell no, we won’t go.” The doctor said, “Don’t worry. You’re not going to pull anything loose.” Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s going to snap–bend and snap (that’s a musical reference, Mom). Whatever. I’m sure my muscles will come around sooner or later, so I’ll keep trying to bend, both physically and emotionally. Because that’s the difficult thing, zoning back in after you’ve zoned out, pushing yourself to do and be more than you have before, even if “being more” simply means being more patient with your body or being more gentle with your self-talk.

All things in good time, sweetheart.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you're not living a fully authentic life, a part of you will never be satisfied.

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