I sat there on the edge of the bed after the alarm jolt. Sat there for quite some time, my head full of negative thoughts.
Why me?
Why do I have to be in pain all the time?
Why is this knee taking so long to get better?
How come I'm the only one that has to work so hard to just function normally?
How is it that at the age of 49 I've already had 12 surgeries?
Why do I have to go to physical therapy?
Why do I have to work so hard at physical therapy?
I'm tired.
I'm tired of pain.
I'm tired of working.
I'm tired of working through the pain.
I don't know if I can do it anymore.
It's not fair.
Despite the thoughts in my head before my feet touched the ground, I got up, got dressed, and got to therapy. I did all my required work with a cheery imposition. No one would have known about those few minutes of negativity that faced me earlier in the day.
Yes, I'm tired. But I can do it. The pain lessens a bit every day. The joint is healing - and muscles are strengthening - at a faster rate than the last time 'round. All this pain and hard work is going to pay off in a big way. I'm going to have two good knees for the first time in 30 years. (5 of my 12 surgeries have been on my knees.)
Pity party over. No more whining.
Especially no whining on Wednesday. That day is going to rock! It'll be almost as cool as my scar. Awesome, right?
