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.