I don’t really know what to write about any more. God damnit, I want to write about biking sweet sweet trails and skiing big mountains! Not about things I did two years ago, but things I do now!
On February 16:th, I almost thought I would be able to do just that by the time we hit May. As all of you already knew way back then, that was just silly thoughts. Some of you tried to tell me, but I stubbornly refused to let that info get a firm grip of my brain. In one way, my dumbo optimism has made me make plans that are now scattered. It has made me burst into tears and nearly hit old ladies with my crutches.
On the other hand, I think that being stupendously optimistic and oblivious of the long and shitty way a head, has been quite good for my mental health and rehab moral. I find it interesting from an economic point of view, since according to economic theory free information is always good. I’m not totally sure that I would have wanted all info at once. If you would have asked me then, yes, but looking back, not so sure.
I thought that my legs, after 3 months would be totally healed, and that I now would be focusing on getting into shape for the biking season. 3 months is something that I can grasp. Its not an eon of time, just the end of what I thought would have been a great skiing season. So I didn’t fall down into a well of darkness, mourning my lost life. Instead I worked on bending my knees and lifting my legs. Two months later, I learned that it will take 6 months for my right leg to heal, and up to one year before I’m back to normal. That was of course devastating news to me. Yes, I wanted to cry and scream like hells bells, but only for a day or so, because Hey! 2 months had already passed, only 4 to go! (I also counted wrong and thought that my leg would be healed in July, that helped). So I got up again, and focused on my new goal – beat the doctor’s prognosis, get the fracture to heal before august and be on my bike way before that. I’m sure I’ll have to revise my plans again. That I will face a ton of disappointments. Fall into my well of self-pity for a day or two. But then, even more months will have passed, and the goal will have come closer. So perhaps I would not have wanted the info that I would take a year to heal at once. I’m not sure I would have been able to take it.
Actually, I’ve found that recovering from two broken legs is a lot like doing research. At first, you think that its going to be easy. Then you realize that, perhaps not THAT easy, but still doable with some extra work. Fine. Then, after you worked on your ass off to get things in order, you realize that something is wrong. So you start over, now working harder and faster than ever since you’re lagging behind, just to find out that something really weird is going on. So you go back and search for needles in the haystack, start over, and realize that you haven’t got the slightest clue of what it is that you’re doing. So you dig deep inside, bury your self-esteem, and ask the all mighty (professor or doctor) about your problem – knowing that they will look at you like your the dumbest person on this planet (maybe they don’t but you sure will feel like it anyway) – just to leave the room just as unknowingly as before (because 1. you didn’t understand shit of what they said since you were too preoccupied with feeling stupid and acting brave, and 2. because they really aren’t all mighty and don’t either really know what to do). So you bang your head against the wall, desperately hoping that that will shake the pieces together. Then, you whipe the blood of the wall, bite the bullet and start over again. Until you get it right.
Even though I often find myself quarreling with my body (just as I do with my equations and datasets at work), I cannot help also getting fascinated by its transformation – the unbelievingly fast decay, and the ultra slow restoration. Every day since I got back from the hospital, I’ve scrutinized the shape, size and strength of my calves and thighs. Tried to control their movement and accelerate their growth.
Its a bit like looking at bacterias in a Petri disc, only that the growth rate is substantially lower and my ability to control it is substantially weaker. I find it both scary and interesting how the mind and the body can become detached over night. Before the accident, I had only notice that type of detachment when I tried to wiggle my ears – the weird feeling of wanting your muscles to do something and not knowing how to get them to actually do it. During my rehab, I’ve had the same experience with my right leg. I’ve more than once felt like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill vol 1 (only that my progress has taken 3 months instead of 8 hours). Today I flexed my thigh muscle completely at will for the first time since the accident AND I managed to grip a pen with my toes. All of a sudden, my brain had figured out how to talk to my leg. Interesting.
I also find it interesting how my progress happens big and small all the time. I can now keep my balance and control the small muscles in my ancles enough to stand on my right leg for 30 seconds.
I can bike at snail speed on gravel roads (wohoo!).
But since I can’t communicate with my right foot properly and since my tendons in my ancles are too weak, I still cannot walk straight.
The body truly moves in mysterious ways. I think I have to study it some more.