Putting on Reading Glasses: Start Close In

Last April I got a prescription for my first pair of glasses. Actually, three pairs of glasses. One for reading. One for distance. One for sunshine. I’d been using over-the-counter reading glasses for a couple years previously, so that wasn’t really new, but when I walked outside with my new distance glasses on – OH!!! The world in clean, sharp lines filled with depth and…. glory.

But perhaps the truly amazing part is that in the months since, I’ve actually managed to keep track of three pairs of glasses for three different purposes! This means they matter. Wearing them, or not wearing them, makes enough of a difference that I have figured out routines to help me mostly keep the right pair perched on my nose or ~~close at hand~~ on top of my head at the right time.

Today I am seven and a half weeks post-op from brevis tendon (ankle) repair and it’s been a TOUGH recovery. I haven’t gone out much and I haven’t read much. And so, I haven’t used my glasses much. But this past week, as I’ve found myself able to focus longer, think more clearly, and read more, I’ve been reaching for my reading glasses more often.

For nearly two months now, I’ve been mostly stuck inside. Sitting with one foot up. My distance glasses lie folded on the side table, waiting for another day.

This was my 3^rd surgery in 4 years and I thought I knew the drill. Boy was I wrong. The surgery itself went great. I’ve been thoroughly impressed by my doctor and his team. The anesthesiologist was excellent. He listened well to my history and fears and then made my journey out and back feel like I was a PRO.

My parents came up to help in my first weeks after surgery and I am so grateful. David has somehow managed to keep working right on through these weeks and also stack his after-hours with All. The. Errands. and a huge To-Do List. Friends have filled in gaps. And it’s Alaska so – casseroles stuffed with halibut?!? Yes.

When I went in for surgery on November 16, I knew I was in for a long recovery. The doctor has been clear from the beginning: It’s gonna be long, and hard. This surgery would knock me off my feet and keep me there. For a long time.

What I didn’t anticipate was that waking up on the other side of surgery with my right foot trapped in post-surgical dressing for several weeks, and then stuck in a non-weightbearing boot for weeks beyond that, would send me into some of the worst crazy-brain behavior I know. I’m no stranger to roaming the landscape of my brain and it has some pretty dark valleys carved out by trauma and drugs and pain. I’ve collected some wild stories from my adventures there. But I’ve also done a lot of work, learning how to avoid or manage the Crazy. So I was surprised when this ankle surgery sideswiped me and suddenly I found myself in the all-too-familiar dark, scary places. I never guessed that immobilizing my foot would pave a superhighway back to my accident memories. Some of my new stories are ridiculous and kind of funny. Some are quirky and annoying. I mean….I was annoying. Most of the stories are still too close and too raw for me to find words to tell. But underpinning them all is a deep sense of vulnerability. And in vulnerability, fear. What is it to be unmoored from rational thinking, frantically clawing through panic and so many tears? I hate everything about it.

I have had my feet knocked out from under me, yet again. And not just in a literal sense. Once again I have had to admit that life is fragile and unpredictable. I know too well how it can knock me down whenever it wants to and one of these times it will knock me clear out of the game. I don’t have enough distance from this latest drama – I’m still mostly stuck foot-up in a boot, though at least I can freely take it off now and let my brain breath. But as I begin to sort through what it all means and how I’m going to answer my erstwhile question, this all being true, how are you going to live? I put on my reading glasses and…..

START CLOSE IN

Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way to begin
the conversation.
Start with your own
question,
give up on other
people’s questions,
don’t let them
smother something
simple.
To hear
another’s voice,
follow
your own voice,
wait until
that voice
becomes an
intimate
private ear
that can
really listen
to another.
Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own
don’t follow
someone else’s
heroics, be humble
and focused,
start close in,
don’t mistake
that other
for your own.
Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
__