Endurance

Memories...

 

The night before my first day back to work, I almost wrote about how proud I was of my hard work and tenacity—progress. Kinda like, man I can get up and down the stairs, around my place, in my car, to physical therapy. (Say this with great enthusiasm.) And then work happens, my first day back. I couldn't get to my car soon enough that evening. I wanted to weep, seriously, but I was too tired. Grateful for all things, large and small, I mercifully was off work the following day. 

 

Doctor at PT asks me how my first day was, my return...

 

She asked the day before I returned how I was feeling about work. Admittedly nervous. 

 

So, I tell her, it was tough. To be expected. Yep.

 

After re-evaluating my strategy for getting things done effectively and taking only five times longer than normal doing so, I made a few changes. Small but significant changes. 

 

Six to eight weeks non-weight bearing would be a challenge, I knew this from the beginning. My endurance though, is challenged every day. Late getting home? Didn't leave the porch light on, can't see the steps very well? Too bad. Your bed, food, and most importantly, your animals are up there. This was a particularly rough night, after a delightfully successful day at work. About halfway up and numerous fumbles, I sit on my butt and scoot up the last few steps. Safe. 

 

Compassion for others increases daily.

 

The definition of endurance, enduring, endured—this is life. Some days are a little harder than others, or maybe much harder, depends on the day. We endure, we don't quit, not because we don't want to, but because it's not an option. 

 

I've the power to endure unpleasant and difficult processes, without giving way.

 

Withstanding wear and tear? That's me, I raise my hand.

 

Long distances demanding great physical stamina? Oh yeah, part of the healing process. (This must be how it feels to run a marathon, right?) Every day I grow stronger.

 

Is enduring pleasant? Nope, often times not. Do I want to sit down and kick like a child when I'm tired of crutching? Yep, and when I finish acting like a child, the need to continue to whatever destination would necessitate continuing on my way. Rather than wasting needless energy, I move forward, slowly, but forward.

 

I once tried to quit. God said no. I moved West, where air is fresh, mountains are big, and I'm tough, not always because I want to be, but out of necessity. 

 

And I'm so grateful for my life.