I Am Lucky

Lucky

ICYMI: Eleven days ago, I broke six ribs, punctured a lung and tore cartilage from my sternum in four places in a freak accident involving a moth. Truly.

I am lucky.

I am lucky I incurred this injury in a country with first-class medical facilities and not in a country that struggles to provide basic health care.

I am lucky I do not live alone and I have a husband and three strapping young lads to help me manage.

I am lucky I have extended family and friends who provide support, meals, transport and coffee outings.

I am lucky I have access to medicines that help me get through the day.

I am lucky I do not have a permanent injury and I will make a full recovery.

I am lucky I have the world at my fingertips if I feel the need to reach out or find out or figure out.

I am lucky I have financial security and this injury will not cause hardship.

I am lucky.

I know I am lucky.

I tell myself every day I am lucky.

But I’ll tell you what I am not.

I am not a saint.

I know I am lucky but I still complain, moan, cry, stamp my feet and say “It’s not fair!” every day.

I want to drive myself wherever I want to go.

I want to go back to work and teach my kids.

I want to row on the river in the summer sunrise.

I want to play my ukulele and sing with my friends.

I want to lie in my own bed and roll over.

I want to be able to laugh and cry without pain.

I want my life to go back to ‘normal’.

I am lucky.

I know I am lucky.

But some days it’s hard to remember that.

Dear Family and Friends: I will on occasion in the coming weeks be depressingly whingey and then feel bad about it. Please bear with me.

 

 

 

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65 thoughts on “I Am Lucky

  1. Saying how it is at a particular point of time helps us to cope. The stiff upper lip principle does nota fully human person make! Much as you might think you are putting on a show by wearing the sling, it will remind us that there is good reason for a whinge for a few weeks yet. The problem with hidden injuries be they physical, mental or emotional, is that because they cannot be seen we are not supposed to be hurting. Sometimes there can be a fine line between living as a victim in this moment and being able to express how we are and be heard. That is NOT how it is for you – you have been far more likely to dump on yourself if you feel you have imposed your pain on others. as I see you. There are ears ready to listen and empathise, use them to help you through the pain. The whole picture is that you ARE lucky, but just now living is painfully hard work.

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    • I think a part of me thought if I considered all the people who have it much worse than me, it would make me feel better. But it didn’t. It just made me feel guilty for feeling the way I do. Probably need to remind myself instead that six broken ribs is actually a legitimate reason to be feeling not the best.

      Liked by 1 person

      • At the same time, you know exactly what it is like to have broken ribs, to need to depend on people for more than a lift, a hug, or a thanks for holding a door open for them. You know the physical pain, you know the psychological and mental ebbing and flowing, and you think of others and their pain. An unkind word spoken to one person causes just as much discomfort as a fishing pole throw someone else’s abdomen. Yes, the level of physiological injury is different and the recovery experience is different, but the hurting is the same because both of those stimuli makes a person self-aware to one’s own vulnerability. Whatever you need to articulate, whatever sound effects you need to make to get through the moment, you do it.

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    • I think you should definitely allow yourself to feel crap and express how crap you feel. It doesn’t mean you feel less for those who are worse off, you just feel really really crap. Recovery will probably be more testing for you than those around you, but allow them to take care of you and hold on to the lucky thoughts.

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  2. This was such a reflective post, and so true. We are indeed lucky here in Australia to have things that make our lives more…comfortable. I really don’t like using this word to be honest. We can always do with more comforts to make us feel better. Then again, as Elaine said, we’re all human. There’s only so much pain we can take.

    Sounds like you are on the road to recovery and I hope the strapping young lads aren’t getting in the way at all πŸ˜€

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    • I’ve struggled a bit the past couple of days and I guess I needed to get it out somehow. But yes, things are better than they were a week ago and I am constantly reassured by doctors that it will get steadily better. I guess I’m just not someone who’s good at doing things slowly.

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  3. You are not lucky, my dear MOSY. No, I say you are blessed. Blessed in innumerable ways, with family and friends, your many abilities and much more. That includes the blessing of being able to open your mouth and make a whinging sound. You are entitled to do so in your circumstance as I would probably do the same…because it must hurt far less than laughing. Sending you a very gentle virtual hug and very special healing thoughts.

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  4. I guess if you can cope with your injuries we’ll have to cope with you occasionally being a little “whingey” πŸ˜‰ With all that has happened I think even a saint would complain at least a little! Here’s looking forward to a speedy recovery so you can find something else to try to master. πŸ™‚

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  5. Whine on my friend … It’s actually part of the healing process πŸ˜‰

    While you might now realize it yet, this part is actually the worst … it’s the *hump time* of the injury.

    The *shock* of the injury has now worn off and mentally you are ready to return to *normal* life. Except there is no normal yet … there is virtually nothing you can do without help …. which makes everything feel worse.

    In the days ahead as you slowly start to recover, you will be excited with each small gain and will want to celebrate each one like a baby’s first steps.

    The stages of recovery are similar to the stages of grief. You will bounce back and forth between them … and we will be here to cheer you on through all of them.

    Besides, I doubt you can be more obnoxious than Gilles was during his recovery πŸ˜‰

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    • It’s part of the healing process? Can I quote you on that? πŸ˜‰
      You’ve hit on it exactly. It’s a bit like okay, I’ve done this invalid thing enough now, can we please move on to something else. Much like anything else I take on and then get bored of it.
      And the emotions…. I feel stupid for doing such a thing, I feel guilty for putting more onto The Husband who had already so generously taken on the parenting alone so I could go gallivanting, I feel loss because I miss rowing and going to singing…. Sigh. I shouldn’t write comments first thing in the morning when the pain is bad.
      As for Gilles… We both know only too well that men make the worst patients. πŸ˜‰

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  6. First of all, I am glad to hear you are okay & that you will recover. When we are accustomed to being able to do all of the things we love to do, it is incredibly frustrating when we can’t. Whine a way my friend, we can take it!

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  7. I think that you can even type the phrase I am lucky more than once makes you near a saint. Whine on any time you need to. Happy to listen, to encourage, to cheer, to reassure. Whatever you need. I shall begin to wave my magic wand frantically in hopes of showing up at your door to do a bit of laundry and make you tea, but not make you laugh. Sending hugs across the miles H. Again just wee ones.

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    • Right now, I’m sitting in the chair having an extra-sooky moment because I should be at singing and I’m stuck here. That’s when it’s hardest – when I can’t do the things I love. And that’s when I have to say things like “I am lucky” over and over because they are the times I feel the least so. Very much appreciating all the gentle support and encouragement of friends and family now for the same reason. ❀

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      • I can only imagine how challenging it all is. I do think it is helpful to even out loud keep saying positive things. Basically fake it till you make it. The dark vortex of sadness is easy to slip in to. Not to worry though I have some old climbing ropes that I can throw down there and belay you out. Just give a shout any time. πŸ™‚ xox

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        • I can also tell myself it could be worse, I could be looking at 10 weeks instead of 6. I don’t know how you didn’t lose your mind completely.

          The silver lining to this morning is that the End of Year Party for my singing group is on Sunday and I think I’ll be able to go. Holding onto that little ray of light in the darkness.

          Liked by 1 person

          • Well I did not have such pain as you and my arms were free. Once that foot was in a cast it was almost pain free. That makes a huge difference!
            The party sounds like a fabulous idea! I’d say whatever it takes an appearance is just what this nurse ordered! πŸ™‚
            Do you think I could use any more exclamation marks?

            Liked by 1 person

  8. Go ahead. Whinge and moan all you like. You’re entitled to after what you’ve been through. We’re here to listen and give loads of sympathy. I’m pleased to hear that you have so much support at home. Yesterday, I needed to get something out of the very high cupboard above the fridge and as I climbed up on the stool to reach it, I thought of you and did so very carefully.

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  9. Well, it’s true that you are lucky in many ways, but I think I’d still be inclined to nudge breaking six ribs, puncturing a lung and tearing cartilage from your sternum in four places into the “not oustandingly lucky” category. I’m impressed, by the way, that you can play the ukulele. Sounds like you may be a master of something after all. πŸ™‚

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  10. Seems to me you should take those “I want statements” and turn them into “I did”. It appears to me you live a blessed life. I know you are not complaining just sharing and I appreciate that. I want to learn them master blogging and I just began. I am blogging and will master it one day. You are in good health and wealth. The something to yet discover is YOU. Keep it moving!

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    • I think I’d rather turn them into “I will” statements, really. I do live a blessed life and that’s what I was trying to say but I’m also fully human and some days are harder than others.

      Thanks for coming by and commenting. Good luck with the blogging! πŸ™‚

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  11. Great post, and I can see you are mending! It is the frustration in the meantime. My daughter broke some bones at the weekend, and I told her it was probably nature’s way of imposing some rest from her very busy life. Patience is something we all find hard to learn. ❀

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh, no, that’s not good about your daughter. She has my sympathies.

      I’ve lost track of how many people have pointed out that maybe this is the universe/nature/God/etc telling me to slow down. That just makes me think that the universe/nature/God could have come up with a less drastic and certainly less painful way of doing that, thanks very much.

      Never been good on the “take it slow” thing and this one is testing me to the limit!

      Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for such a lovely comment. I have been immensely grateful for a sense of humour through it all. Sometimes I think you just have to laugh or it would all become too much to bear. Very grateful for friends with an equally wacky sense of humour to keep me going also. πŸ˜€

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  12. I totally agree with you, it is so important to remember how lucky we are to live in a world, where we get help soon. But we are so used to this circumstances that we often Forget what it is like to live on the other side of the world. Hope you get better soon! πŸ˜‰

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