Last Night: When Pain Took Over
Last night was brutal.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt pain like this — deep, pulsing, unrelenting waves that no amount of medication could touch. And it was only day one of recovery!
Despite having major surgery, I was only kept in hospital for one night. Twice during the night, I pressed the call button, desperate for extra pain relief.
Each time, the nurse arrived with a gentle touch and calm voice, and I felt a flicker of relief amid the agony.
In the middle of that darkness, kindness mattered more than morphine.
The First Morning: Small Wins in a Big Struggle
By morning, I was exhausted and heavy. Somehow, I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom.
Giving myself a quick wash felt like a victory — a small, fragile act of independence that reminded me I still existed beyond the pain.Thank god I had done that as hard as it was….
An hour later, a healthcare assistant appeared with her usual sing-song tone: “Time for a wash!”
Good god,my dignity is going to be taken from me!
I smiled weakly, but inside, the reality hit me hard — my life had stopped.
Everything I do with my kids, my husband, my family, my routines — suddenly unreachable.
Facing the Cast: The Hardest Part
And then I looked down.
The cast.
I couldn’t bear to look at it for long. Seeing it there — thick, white, immovable — felt like staring at a sentence I hadn’t agreed to serve.
This cast is going to be with me for so long.
It’s a constant reminder of what lies ahead: stairs, showers, missed activities, and asking for help over and over again.
“Normal” feels like a distant country I no longer have a passport for.
The Kindness Around Me
Despite the pain, the hospital staff have been nothing short of incredible.
Gentle, patient, and professional — they move from bed to bed with calm efficiency and quiet compassion. Watching them reminded me that kindness is a lifeline when pain and frustration threaten to swallow you.
The food looked beautiful — colourful trays, steaming soups, soft breads — but my body had no appetite. I pushed the food around, grateful for the effort, but unable to eat.
The Reality of Rest
People keep telling me, “It’ll be good to rest — to take a break.”
But this isn’t rest. This is forced stillness — in pain, in slow motion, watching life continue without me.
I’m encouraged to practise mindfulness and breathing exercises, and I try. But being present inside this pain feels like a test I never signed up for.
Day One Of Recovery: Gratitude and Grief
This is day one of recovery — full of gratitude and grief, kindness and pain, beauty and loss.
Everything has stopped.
But maybe, just maybe, this is where the rebuilding begins.
