Months and Months

The other night I had a dream where components of the frame were falling out of my leg. I can't remember my dream-self being in pain, though the ends of the pins were a bit bloody, in a fascinating way. I think I was holding the pins. It was really quite interesting—after two months of seeing the things sticking into my leg,  I can remember being a bit nervous and knowing I'd need to return to the OR and have the thing put back in. I wasn't super happy about that bit.

That was just a dream.

I'm back in my chair, typing this up. I'm wearing oversized sweatpants, warm and pretty well covered under some of the seventeen stripes on my completed blanket. Showering will still in all likelihood be the highlight of my day (I like getting clean). And, true to form, the frame is still well and truly fixed to my leg. The five halfpins and the two piano wire pins are fixing the bones in place.

Reflecting back on my experience so far, the month of December was dedicated to stressing about college and general non-frame stressors. Back then, in the good old days, I had no idea what it would be like to wear one of these things. I thought it might be painful (it isn't) but that after a couple months I'd be able to do normal people things (kind of). Then January was dedicated to realizing the magical powers of the frame, especially noting just what a large difference has been made to the alignment of my leg.

February, on the other hand, was less fun. Over the past month or so, I knit about six feet worth of blanket, probably more, part of a hat, did my homework, played approximately a bazillion rounds of some bubble shooter game which I got bored with, read all the Harry Potter books, dreamed up more ideas for novels than I'll ever actually finished, went to school, did some homework, counted way too many flies for Bio and processed too many notes for the same class, and watched roughly ten thousand episodes of Top Gear (U.K.) despite not caring one iota about ridiculously expensive cars and finding the presenters occasionally amusing at best. And that was it. That was the entirety of the month of February.

I'm hoping that March is more fun.

Now, I know the idea behind wearing the frame isn't to have fun. And trust me, going in I never once stopped to and decided being impaled by a bunch of metal rods would be a blast. That said, I stopped to think about the first couple weeks. I was worried that the frame would be painful in the first couple weeks, concerned about not being able to walk for a couple weeks, concerned about not returning to school for a couple weeks. I never stopped to reflect on the fact that I would still be processing some pretty incredible pain medications. I also never stopped to reflect on the fact that this is a full-on six month* extravaganza of being visibly post-surgery. Every other time I've had surgery the meat of the recovery lasted a few weeks or so.

The meat of this recovery is lasting a while.

It's just…I guess I never considered the possibility that the most difficult part of wearing the Taylor Spatial Frame wouldn't be physical at all but rather mental. Yes, the difficulties have their roots in my physical limitations (as in being unable to walk for very long, not trusting cold weather, being unable to go outside or go for a walk, not being able to bend my leg suddenly) but they manifest themselves in a feeling of uselessness and pointlessness which scares me quite a lot. I've found myself less and less motivated to do anything. I don't argue against blatant wastes of time (ahem, Top Gear, ahem) like I would otherwise. Things that would normally really excite me, like the Academy Awards, lose a bit of their luster.

With that said, I'm still making progress. Though the walker still comes with me to school, I barely need to use it and have managed to forget it in a classroom once or twice or more. At home, I'm entirely self-supporting. And, in perhaps the greatest accomplishment thus far, over the weekend I managed to deal with a psychotic golden retriever all on my own.

I believe I mentioned Sunny earlier in connection with his great love for sleeping on the furniture. One of Sunny's other personality traits is he really doesn't like it when my father's beeper goes off. On Friday, I believe, I was at home. Two of the brothers were off for the day, one at a fencing meet and the other at a swimming meet. The other brother was upstairs cleaning his room. I was downstairs with Sunny and, little known to me, the beeper. The beeper went off.

Sunny also went off. He started panting deeply and lunged over the arm of the chair into my lap. For a few minutes, I did my best to just pet him as he hyperventilated in my lap. After a while, though, it was time to call somebody to figure out how to address the situation so I pushed Sunny off my lap. Sunny started trying to dig a hole in the hardwood floor.

I was told via phone to locate the beeper and turn it off. Unfortunately, this was the first time I'd ever had to turn off a beeper and I was standing up with Sunny next to me, freaking out. He got onto his hind legs and put his paws on my shoulders. I wasn't concerned about him being rough—Sunny is an extraordinarily kind and gentle dog, though I was worried about him hitting the frame on the way down. He didn't, though it was still a scary situation.

Everything worked out okay in the end. Sunny spent some time outside, chilling out in many senses of the phrase, and I made it through the day without watching a single episode of Top Gear.

Long story short: I wish I could go outside to add some spice to my daily routine, even if it is Minnesota and the outdoor world is really a collection of ten thousand shades of gray. Or go outside and feel relaxed and normal again. But, at the very least, I now know I can handle myself with the golden retriever.

I'm also capable of forgetting the walker at school, but I'm less certain that's a good thing.

* I'm not sure about the six month figure. That's a rough guess. Based on my current school schedule, the frame could feasibly come off in mid-May or the last few days of March. Mid-June is also a possibility, depending on the willingness of my school to let me not do anything for a week when I could easily delay not doing anything until after graduation. Dr. Sundberg estimated last month that it'll be able to come off at the end of April but being able to come off and actually coming off are, with school, two very different things. I'll have a better estimate at my next appointment, which is sadly as of now unscheduled (there was supposed to be one February 25, but that got canceled).