Back In The Nest

One of the annoying and frustrating things about injury and recovery is that you can no longer fully take care of yourself.  Once simple tasks that required little to no effort now had now becoming a chore.  Sure, you want to give it a shot and do things for yourself, but you know it would be a bad idea.  It's like that bully in elementary school, standing over you, daring you to hit them first.  You knew you probably could get a good punch in, maybe even do a little damage, but ultimately, that bully would kick your ass, just because they could.  

For me, I'm on crutches in the middle of one of the worst winters in recent memory.  I can't put any weight on my newly attached tendon and I can't even get it wet.  So, that means pretty much everything has become difficult...cooking, laundry, cleaning up, showering, just about everything I need to do to be a clean and sufficient human being has been compromised.  To add insult to injury, my car is standard shift, and since I tore my left Achilles, that means no driving.  Sure, all of this stuff will get easier over time, but the first few days after surgery I definitely needed some help and someone to look after me.  Enter...MOM.  So post surgery I stayed with my mother and stepfather in Halifax.  I was back in the nest.  

Now...you need to understand my mom.  She's always gone over and above when it comes to her three kids.  If I ever needed someone, she would be there.  Even if I didn't want someone there...there she was.  She's always been my strongest supporter, encouraging me when I'm doing well, and kicking me in the ass, the first to tell me when I screw up.  She is someone you want in your corner to stand up for you, but God help you if you're on her shit list.  She's caring, loud, emotional and opinionated.  She's a Jewish mom.  If you don't have a good idea of what I'm talking about, let me explain...

When I first got hurt, I thanked her for taking such good care of me.  Her response..."Please, it's my job.  You don't have a wife or a girlfriend.  Who else is going to take such good care of you?"

When we were discussing the eventual return to my apartment, she told me she was going to make some food for me to take home.  I told her that was appreciated but not necessary.  She works full time and I didn't want her to go through the trouble.  Plus, I told her my friend who is a chef was dropping some food off mid week.  She said, "Well, we'll see."  Later that night,  I saw two LARGE pots on the stove.  One with beef stew, one with chicken soup.  I gave her a look, but all I got was, "Well you HAVE to eat!"

When I was lying on the couch reading, she came over and asked, "Don't you want more light?"  I was fine, and didn't need anymore than I had.  I responded with what I thought was a pretty clear, "No, I'm good."  As she walked out of the room, she turned on two more lights.  I just sat there, blinded by the excess lighting that was now shining down on me.  

Finally, I wanted to go to the mall to pick up some new books to keep me busy.  As we pulled up, I was about to get out of the car with my crutches, but she said, "Wait, I brought nanny's wheelchair."  Nanny was my grandmother who passed away four and a half years ago.  I thought, okay, she's right.  It will be kind of tough walking on crutches through the mall, plus the floor will be wet from people dragging in snow on their boots. Wheeling myself around in the wheelchair was probably a much better option.  As she pulled it from the trunk and assembled it on the sidewalk, I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was missing.  I sat myself in the chair and went to wheel myself into the mall.  That's when I realized what was missing....giant wheels.  It wasn't exactly a wheelchair, but more like a chair on wheels...one that needed to be pushed from behind.  So there I was, being wheeled around the entire mall by mom.  Awesome.

As I write this and look back on the past few days, I can't help but laugh at how things really haven't changed between me and my mom.  She took care of me at almost 30 the same she did when I was 15.  I guess all parents want what is best for their kids.  They protect us and take care of us the best they know how.  Sometimes that means ignoring what we say and doing what they think needs to be done and sometimes it means pushing us to get to where we need to be, both literally and figuratively.  They're people who will be here for us when things don't go exactly as we plan.  They'll do what they think is best to help us along the way and then step aside to let us sink or swim.  Either way, they're still there.  Ready to step in to take care of us and right our way.  Maybe that's what she was trying to say when she once again brought up the fact that I'm single.  Maybe.  

Well here I am, waiting for my mom to return from work to drive me back to my apartment.  After three nights and four days in her care, it's time to be on my own.  It's time for me to see what I can do for myself.  Sure I'll be limited and things will take longer than normal.  Sure I'll probably fall or stumble and might even hurt myself a little bit.  But that's part of the process.  It's like growing up all over again.  But now I really know, that when it all comes down to it, my mom will always be there, to help along the way, and for that I'm incredibly lucky.    

In health and with respect...

D