I am a bird with a broken wing

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” -Nelson Mandela

Last Friday, I returned to San Diego again after 13 months.  I was thrilled to be back… to see the ocean, to see the palm trees, to enjoy the sun, and to see my dear friends and colleagues.  San Diego pretty much remains the same.  Sure there are new stores and restaurants that come with the ongoing changes that any city undergoes.  I have been discovering the ways I have changed the past 13 months.  The past 13 months have not been a walk in the park for me in different areas in life: personal, professional, academic, relationships/ friendships, and health. 

For as long as I lived in San Diego, I never liked to go to the beach.  It’s too messy.  Sand in shoes, on the feet, in the towels and clothing.  But I came to San Diego knowing that I cannot swim.  The wound re-opened on Wednesday and began to drain again which is a good thing.  I want all the pus pockets to go away.  Open wound= no swimming.  Living in San Diego meant I could live my love for swimming (in pools, to be specific) year-round.  It was natural that I would look forward to going back to swim in salt-water pools in San Diego.  Nope.  I ached for some kind of water activity.  Yesterday, a friend and I continued our Sunday morning tradition of walking for 1-2 hours.  Since the San Diego Pride was happening at our favorite walking venue, Balboa Park, we opted to go to Del Mar and walked along the coast.  I decided to go on the beach… and took off my shoes.   We allowed the ocean to come up to our feet and ankles.  It was heavenly.  Chocolate did not think so.  It’s ironic though… he lived in Hawai’i for the first five years of his life.  I found myself cleaning up the mess afterwards.  And quite frankly, I did not mind at all.  I loved getting the pleasure of soaking my feet in the Pacific Ocean. 

Since leaving San Diego three years ago, I have been coming back to San Diego for work at least twice a year until this recent hiatus.  I always packed my schedule with activities to enjoy San Diego, see friends, and work.  Since the infection continues to haunt me, I found myself slowing down.  I kept my schedule a bit open to allow myself to rest as needed.  It meant slowing down.  Allowing myself more time to sleep.  I did not allow myself to have much time to rest in Minnesota, which made the infection worse.  I was determined to make sure I rested in San Diego.  It’s so strange because there’s so much I want to do and see here, but I can’t.  The bed has become my best friend.  Saturday night, I slept 10.5 hours.  Other nights, I’ve averaged at least 8 hours.  As someone said to me, “”Your body only heals when you are sleeping.”  I was not feeling well on Saturday evening- I ached to go out with a friend and see the coast.  Nope.  Another friend brought me soup and then I slept.

It’s so unlike me.  A friend beautifully described it yesterday…  I am like a bird with a broken wing.  I WANT to fly.  I want to fly freely.  I want to play.  I want to soar and do so much.  Another friend said it’s not my personality to be laidback.  I am a Type A personality.  Before cancer, I could accomplish so much in one day that it’s amazing.  I have slowed down significantly.  Will I return to myself?  I don’t know.  Will that be my new normal?  I don’t know.  My friend on Saturday said after I told her that my surgeon said it would take at least six months before I feel like myself again.  She said, “Add some months to that because of that infection.”  It was like she slapped me with harsh reality but it was also truth that she lovingly told me.  She was gently reminding me to be patient with myself as I continue to heal. 

Sometime I feel like the world expects me to do so much.  They expect me to do this, that.  A friend said to me a while ago that her friend had similar cancer and she had a ‘procedure’ and is just fine now.  “I guess she’s just really optimistic.”  I later learned that it was not a hysterectomy but endometrial ablation.  It was an ouch for me.  I have received some similar comments from others who feel that I may be depressed which is hindering my recovery.  Despite what has happened so far, I think I am pretty optimistic.  I am still living.  I am still waking up in the morning to get to work.  I still find passion in cooking.   I still love walking.  I appreciate the little pleasures in life.  I get high on doing academic writing and research.  It’s my BODY that does not seem to cooperate.  Believe me, I WANT to do more but it’s like I am sitting outside my body watching, “Sheesh that body is so SLOW.  Get better!”  Then I realize I have to fully own that body and live inside that body… and roll with it.  My body will tell me when I can do so much.  I made my own peace with the fact that it is going to take some time before I can do much more.  I hope those in my world will be patient with me as I find my way back to myself.  Hearing things about how I may be pessimistic, depressed, or simply avoiding to do things are like knives to my heart.  Just be my cheerleader and say, “You’re doing great!”  That’s what I need.