So, here we are at the start of week 14. Day 98, to be precise. Which, honestly, feels weirdly huge and tiny at the same time. 98 days! That’s nearly 100! People say you can change your life in 100 days—well, I don’t know about life-changing, but I have changed my relationship with patience, perseverance, and, apparently, caffeine.
Day 98 was one of those “brain-on-fire” days. You know the ones—you’re buzzing with ideas, making mental to-do lists that would probably qualify as small novels, and wondering if your coffee cup can also double as a motivational speaker. I spent the morning scribbling a quick mind-map about support services for injuries, because apparently my brain thinks in diagrams now. I also reached out to people St Mary’s Urgent Care in Gurranabraher, numerous call to various departments in the CUH and got a few emails for the so called important people there aswell—and tried to figure out what’s out there for folks like me, recovering from serious injuries.
But here’s the thing: trying to figure out support for people with injuries is a bit like trying to herd cats. Every lead, every phone call, every email feels like progress, but it’s also confusing, messy, and occasionally hilarious. I mean, me? Calling for insight into rehabilitation support? Someone, somewhere, is probably having a good chuckle at that.
By day 99, my head was officially buzzing—5am buzzing, mind-you. I got physio out of the way (well, mostly), and then poured the next several hours—between school drop-offs, snack negotiations, and general life chaos—into ideas, emails, and planning. Honestly, it was exhausting and exhilarating all at once. I want to make a difference, and I want to help anyone I can along the way, but wow… it’s isolating and tough too. I don’t think anyone warned me that changing anything—even for yourself—could feel like juggling chainsaws blindfolded.
Day 100 is about to hit tomorrow. Big milestone! Cue celebratory confetti and maybe a small victory dance in the kitchen. Except, as I write this, I realise my husband and stepson are off to an Everton match for the weekend. Which means… drumroll… I’m flying solo with Cork GAA Trials, soccer matches, snack negotiations, laundry mountains, and the general chaos of weekend life. Nothing like a big milestone to remind you that rest can wait—but also that you’re secretly going to survive it all anyway, fueled by coffee and sheer stubbornness.
The really good news? I can rest next week. Full-on, guilt-free, put-my-feet-up kind of rest. For now, I’ll sip my coffee, cheer from the sidelines (mostly silently, to avoid embarrassing the kids), and take a quiet moment to pat myself on the back. And for anyone who knows me knows me saying this and actually taking a rest are two very different things.
Day 100 will probably be busy, messy, and slightly chaotic—but it’s also a celebration: of making it this far, of still standing, still buzzing, still dreaming, and still ready for a chocolate (or three).
