Yesterday morning, I had a meltdown. I went to the pool with Matt to ask some questions about the therapy pool and strength building classes. As I watched women with severe mobility issues get slowly and carefully get into the pool, slowly and carefully walk across it, and slowly and carefully get back out, I was crushed.
Now, I get that I don't have a permanent disability. At its worst, I'll feel lousy and walk like a constipated duck until sometime around our wedding celebration. I can live with that.
But gosh, yesterday I just hurt. A whole seven days after my injury, I was terrified that this would go on forever.
What a wuss.
To be fair, I've had plenty of moments of enormous levity. On Sunday, when Matt and I took a stroll in Santa Monica, a gentleman in a plaid blazer and a comb-over breezed past us. The guy was 90 years old if a day. Later that morning, I stood patiently holding my donut while Matt bought me a bottle of hand lotion. The store clerk pointed to my donut and asked what it was. When I explained, she responded, "Goodness, it's so large." I promptly turned around, pointed my fanny in Matt's direction, and said, "Do you think so, too?"
Today will be my first day back with my students. Last night, I wrote "coccyx" on the board and a definition that includes words like "articulating" and "tailless." I'll answer my kids' questions. I'll accept their help picking up all the stuff I drop, which seems like a ton. And I'll proudly sit on my very-large donut.
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