Not the End.

Yesterday, I wrote:

The magnet on my fridge declares for all to read:

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."

I'm exhausted, frustrated, spent and at my limit in almost every regard. I have hope things will get better, but better seems so far away right now. I haven't had a full day of rest since my hysterectomy, despite that being what I'm supposed to do. There hasn't been a day, including the day of my surgery, I haven't done something directly contradictory to doctor's orders for recuperation.

It's not that I'm being stubborn or willfully ignoring them, I just don't know what else to do. "

Then my son woke, smiled, cooed and babbled while I changed his diaper. I decided to put in some music while I fed him, and sang louder when I discovered my singing was making him laugh. When he was done eating, we danced. Despite my pain, regardless of how tired I was, I decided I was not going to let another day go by without dancing with my son.

An hour after that dance, I found out my foot is broken in two places, contrary to what I'd been told before. It wasn't just a torn ligament, and the suspected damage to the tendons is in fact there too. (Did I even mention this, that I stepped down shortly before my surgery and hurt myself? I don't remember) I go back in a month, I'm still wearing the same lovely boot I've been wearing for weeks, and if all goes well I will not need surgery. The bones are already trying to knit back together.

Several hours after the dance, I learned the cuff from my surgery is healing fairly well but showing signs of potentially being infected. (Pain, extreme tenderness, etc). So, once again, I find myself on antibiotics. At least I'm finding this out NOW. It's quite possible with as long as everything else went on, this is just the last little bit of ick left over.

I started my day frustrated, in a lot of pain, looking for a break and didn't mean in my foot.

By the end of the day, though I didn't feel I'd crossed anything off of my to-do list, I felt like a success. I danced with my son. I laughed with my daughter when she came home from school until our stomachs hurt. I did the "made of state" puzzle with her three times in a row, and marveled at her memory of the states, who lives where, where she's been.

I booked a flight for our family to go see my dear friend, at the end of this month, and I am over the moon.

So, while it isn't over, I'm healing. It's about freaking time.