3 a.m. Alarm? Nope, just my leg waking me for its night shift. Off came the boot, quick massage, a bit of hobbling, swelling slightly better.
5 a.m. Back at it. My legs must think they’ve joined a 24-hour service.
6:30 a.m. Physio session one. Two exercises, one mission: survive. Even on a Saturday, when normal people get brunch, my “career” in recovery continues.
8:10 a.m. Managed a late walk and then attempted the Everest of hygiene — washing my hair. It deserves a medal ceremony of its own.
Then a lovely colleague checked in. (Bless her — she must remember the disaster zone of my first week!)
My sister called too, (she used to be a nurse), dressed my wound like the pro she is, and gently dropped the bombshell: I probably won’t be back to work in November. Cue tears.
Just when I’d reached peak frustration, a pamper package arrived from a gorgeous friend. Perfect timing — the universe throwing me a little glitter in the mud.
Still, the infection lingers, and the thought of more delay gnaws away.
Recovery isn’t glamorous. It’s messy, emotional, full of night walks, hair-washing triumphs, and moments that break and rebuild you. But the kindness, the music, and those tiny wins — they’re the things keeping me upright
🌿 Takeaways for Readers
- Recovery isn’t linear — it’s a full-time job without weekends off, but every small step is progress.
- The tiniest acts of kindness — a call, a parcel, a few words — can completely change the tone of a hard day.
- Sometimes, the things that feel insignificant (washing your hair, a short walk, a song) are actually the biggest victories.
- Frustration and gratitude can live side by side — and that’s okay. Healing often looks like both.
- When you can’t change the pace of recovery, notice the light moments that sneak in between the hard ones.
