health

Day 31 – A pilgrimage of sorts

/ Samantha Jayasuriya / Leave a comment

Solstice day, one month down, a lifetime to go

In my last post, I discussed adjusting my pace and used the word, ‘promenade’, to convey my feelings. Today, that pace feels faster as I hit the one-month mark. Maybe I am affected by the day, the solstice, when the light is at its longest and night time is at its shortest. From now on darkness increases incrementally as we enter the second half of the year.

That desire to use time wisely showed up as Carl and I headed off at 4am to watch the sunrise. The peace and tranquillity of that morning as we listened to the birds singing, watched the moths flitting and the light change over the trees was breath-taking. Each second, each minute, the changes in the colours were incredible. I could feel them fizzing in my upper stomach and a glow in my heart.

Use the light, make use of your time.

That phrase played out in my head after my consultant visit on Thursday when he told me that I was making good progress, more monitoring for new twinges and physio to commence. We shifted in that session into the second phase of recovery, no longer post-surgery.

I discovered that in the recovery room, the surgeon had shown me the small piece of disc that had been pressing on my nerve. I had no recollection of this conversation as time had been warping unusually that afternoon, the clock showing 3.30 pm to 4.15 pm to 5 pm one second after another.

Time can expand or contract in the most amazing of ways. It can hold us, drag us down or lift us.

I had noticed this when the anaesthetist spoke to me pre-surgery and put in the first cannula in my wrist he told me that the drug he was giving me was just a relaxant. At a finger click, I was then waking up in the recovery room after a four-hour surgery. Time and a good amount of anaesthetic can be pretty transformative.

The consultant at my appointment showed me an inside image of my muscle being held back with what looked like a spatula. I find these inside images fascinating. They remind me of an old film that I watched as a child. When a mini-submarine full of scientists was miniaturised and injected into the body of a patient to sort out some problem or another. I was entranced, wanting to enter that strange and magical world and do the same. I wonder if the surgeon too had watched that film and he in his way entered the bodies of his patients to relieve them from pain.

In a way, the work I do as a coach supports my clients to do the same. Stepping away from one particular issue or another trying on a new perspective and exploring new possibilities. It is the same as in my work as a writer. Creating new stories of a brave new world where life can be lighter, different, more interesting and enjoyable.

Now on day 31 a new story beckons for me and I know this as I revisit day zero. Just before the surgery. As I waited to be called, each minute taking hours to pass, I wrote a list of goals as I sat on the hospital bed.

They were –

1 When sitting down or lying down to have reduced or no pain

2 Walk to the park and back with no pain

3 Standing for more than ten minutes with no pain

4 Pins and needles and running ball bearings sensations up and down the leg gone

Today, this is where I am.

1 Much less pain sitting down and reduced pain in bed

2 I can walk to the park and back again without any sciatic pain. Now it is lower back ache due to a loss of muscle use in my back and legs

3 I can stand for more than ten minutes with no sciatic pain at all

4 All the pins and needles and leg nerve issues have gone, even the slight pins and needles in my foot post-surgery.

Creating new stories is exactly where I am right now. New stories which tell me I’m more than okay.

So where does this leave me now on my pilgrimage of sorts?

I have left the mountain which was a pretty hard climb, I’m down the other side and on a woodland path as this next stage of the journey commences. There will be light and sparkle through the trees and then darkness and gloom from time to time.

To help me navigate my way, I am going to use this photograph that I took in 2021.

I took it as my two boys played with my dog in a wood in Norfolk. They had found old rope swings and transported themselves back to early childhood days of just having fun without any fear of reproach from others. The dog joined in barking joyfully as they swung wildly and the trees framed them, guarding their joy.

Watching from a distance it was as if I had happened upon woodland elves. Not noticing us as they revelled in their play. Time stood still here in that wood as the second took minutes to pass. As with any photo, I am transported back to that pendulum of the swing, the sound of the bark, the click of the camera and the love in my heart for the day, the month, the years I already had with them and the ones to come.

This is the feeling that I want to hold onto now. A feeling of joy at the possibilities in the path ahead.

Pilgrimage of sorts day 8

/ Samantha Jayasuriya / Leave a comment

What goes up, must come down

When there is an up there is inevitably a down.

What I had not anticipated was how low the down would be and so quickly.

Starting last night, my back felt like it was having a proper shout. Every muscle ached from the upper to the lower back. Rooted in the shower, I let the water drum into my shoulder muscles which felt tight and restricted.

My dreams were anxious, a range of scenarios that included being in the wrong place at the wrong time, toilets overflowing, mopping up the resulting mess, my husband having a secret love affair, and more. Now if my father were alive, he would have made me put a bet on a horse after dreaming about poo. He always believed that these dreams meant money. I instead think that it is a symbol of transition, or simply movement, or one kind or another!

Those troubled dreams entered my nervous system and I woke up on day eight with a thumping headache and pain in my back which was an anxious pain, not a real pain.

The bed sucked me in and would not let me leave, my partner, exited early to go to the gym, and I was still there at 9.30 when he returned. No painkillers, no breakfast, which made the slump even worse.

For those of you who experience these highs and lows regularly, you may see parallels with your own experience.

Forcing myself out of bed and down, I could barely make a cup of tea, before calling the doctor to get more tablets.

And then I felt the pain in my shin. That same ache that I have had for many months. My anxiety had cracked the door open and allowed the pain to creep back in. A pain that delighted in the misery it found in my body. This was a comfy spot, a known spot, a place for it to settle in. The frustrated tears were just enough to push that pain out although I can sense their toes still in the doorway, wanting for a sneaky opportunity to come back in.

Distraction was my next ploy.

I listened to the next episode of my current favourite podcast – Strangers on a Bench, where two strangers have a conversation about what is happening right now in their life. The revelations that come in these short conversations remind me of the many wonderful and interesting stories that we all hold in our hearts. The joyful music and curiosity in both the interviewer’s and interviewee’s voices lessened the anxiety.

Yellow tee shirt on, face washed, teeth brushed and hair tamed. Let’s see how this day progresses.

Well, it ended better than it started. Like the rolling waves of pain that come and go, so do our negative emotions but for me, the swells are larger now, which means more time has to be spent on the downs.

I had two visitors today who lifted my spirits and sent me on the swell-up. Emmy, who shared her indomitable spirit, recovering from soft tissue damage that she received after taking up jogging. Emmy is 70 and the most inspirational people you can ever meet. We shared lunch enjoying the simple pleasures of soup, bread, and cheese plus a little ice cream. She walked with me around the block where we were both taken by the dedication of an army of ants as they traversed the trunk of a hornbeam, entering the leaf canopy and exiting, stopping from time to time to share a message or two from their journey.

Later, Liz arrived and we made a plan to start our very own book club of two starting with Is the River Alive by Robert McFarlane. We both had the pleasure of listening to him speak at the Royal Geographical Society at the launch of the book in early May. We decided then that we would hold off reading the book until my recuperation period. By next week, we will have read the introduction and will share our responses as all good book club readers do in a week.

Another walk ensued, this time the red poppies that had caught my eye earlier were admired once again. Tissue paper petals that will be gone very soon, but in the time that they are here are joyful to see. A symbol for me of resilience, as they grow in the verges and fields and poor soil. The dark painterly lines reminding of a river delta as it meets the ocean.

The height of the swell had subsided by the time I went to sleep, there were still niggles remaining, but as I slept I took resilience, perseverance, and curiosity to bed with me.