30th March 2021. Life quite abruptly changed. What had started as a genial amble to bed ended in an ambulance trip to A&E. The result was a diagnosis of not one but two broken shoulders, which had occurred because the side of my right foot had hit against a wooden cat box under the radiator. The box was wedged, the radiator immovable; therefore the only thing left to give was me. Unstoppable force meets immovable object, and then they met again when my right shoulder went into the meter cupboard, rendering the top of the humerus invalid.
There followed a year of hospitals, shoulder replacement surgery on the right side, home nurse visits, daily carers and physio visits. I scrutinised my every move, checking to see what had improved, what function I had regained. It was very slow, but every millimetre of progress mattered and was celebrated.
Twas a day of rejoicing when I could put my own knickers on and pull them up.
Every day holds new success, new triumphs.
Putting a bra on, taking a shower, washing my own hair, making a cup of tea, cooking - these are all things that had to be relearned. Things that had been done almost unconsciously now required a three step process, possibly involving other people.
Underwired bras were banished. To be fair, bras were banished for a very long time, and I simply ceased to care. If it wasn’t malleable enough to fasten and then slide around me then out it went. I brooked no undergarment resistance, tolerated no harsh or restrictive clothing.
All underwear was replaced with smooth textured, soft fabrics, so they slid on more easily. Clothing that caught or pulled or even hinted at scratchiness was sent off to charity, and new super comfortable things were bought. Two thirds of my wardrobe was sent to charity, and I neither missed nor regretted any of it.
»»Fast forward to 25 June 2024.
A delightful day of warmth and sunshine, when even something as mundane as putting the rubbish bags out for collection brings joy as the breeze is no longer knife edged but slips shyly around me in greeting.
Every day is a new start. A chance to find and experience the wonder and sparkle in whatever I can. My glass is not only half full, it is overflowing, but that’s not new. I’ve always been that annoying
Of course I have down days, I’m only human but wonder and beauty is only a bird’s wingbeat away. The veil between the mundane and the elysian is gossamer thin for me.
A rose on the way to the shops, a random butterfly settling on a patch of grass, the last warm blackberry from a wild bush in an abandoned garden. Sunlight glinting from dewdrops on weeds or an unexpected resurrection of a plant I thought dead.
The sheer delight of being able to get into our hot tub once more, albeit I hate being watched as I am still ungainly, though that’s not entirely new.
To float, alone, and stretch. Feel the sun on my skin and the water jets pummel my muscles. Gaining enough confidence back in my body to know it will support me and help me sit on the side of the tub and slide in as the scent of my red roses waft across the garden towards me.
An hour bathed in warmth, but with a tiny frisson of welcome coolness if I lift my arms out. A gold lit time where I float, or tread water, or stretch my shoulders as far as they will go. Not as far as they used to, but far enough and further than they did three months ago.
Sixty little joy filled minutes of scar softening heat and muscle releasing water flow, all whilst watching jackdaws and crows adorn the roofs and the starlings fly aerial ballets, occasionally out danced by a couple of swifts if I am very lucky.
Fat woodpigeons bill and coo on the fences, which bow slightly under their weight when they land less than gracefully. They aren’t as nimble as their rock dove cousins, but they make a slightly more mellow and companionable sound.
Eventually I get out, fingertips all crinkled and my stomach ready for dinner. There’s a lightness of being, and a lightness of body too.
Maybe I’ll do it all over again tomorrow.
Hurrah!
Glad you are recovering well. I ricked a shoulder about two years ago – nothing like as seriously as your fall – and movement range, while no longer painful, is still limited.