It’s in my head


It’s been a little over a month since my orthopedic surgery (you can read about that here). I am off crutch, have a little limp and some stiffness but overall am healing quite well. My chiropractor gave me some pelvic and sacral support today and before I left her office, she said it should help with the limping.

But walking around, I noticed I was still hobbling. So I stopped, took a moment and made an effort to walk without the hobble. And, what do you know, my body was able to stabilize pretty well without shifting my weight entirely to one side. It’s definitely not as easy or as comfortable, but doable and probably much better for my overall structure in the long run.

I’ve been walking without a limp for over 40 years and within a month of post-op healing, my body has acclimated to this way of walking even after it was useful. It struck me that it doesn’t take much for patterns to become habits to become part of how we navigate the world. That’s not to say that my limp is a bad thing and truthfully, I still have a ways to go before I am 100% limp free, but I definitely do not need to offload my entire left side anymore. It’s just going to take some effort to get there.

That moment made me wonder what else I might be holding onto because it’s familiar or easy. What else feels like a warm blanket to my brain but is not serving my best interest? Whatever it is, I’m optimistic that with some effort I can move through it.

Welcome to my new body part…


Back in 2011, I said goodbye to my breasts. They were replaced with silicon versions of the same thing. But the swap still felt like a loss. I mourned that loss for a while. And only recently did I feel emotionally integrated. My breasts were mine again. Different, altered, man made, but mine. I now look in the mirror and see completion where once I saw lack.

It occurred to me that I have recently adopted another new body part. A titanium rod in my left leg. Because the cancer was thinning out the bone, the surgeon went in, scraped out cancer cells and stabilized my femur with a screw (to avoid a future fracture). And while I am thrilled to be bionic, the pain of recovery has caused me to experience similar feelings of despair.

So instead of focusing on the pain or thoughts of not being enough (and because¬†forcing gratitude doesn’t always do the trick) I am welcoming my new body part. Accepting this new part of me. Allowing it to support me and operate in concert with the rest of my body. Because now we are one.