This photo probably looks like three friends having a good time on Fremont Street in Las Vegas. It is! But it is also so much more! Two months ago, I would not have been able to be here, let alone walk around and enjoy myself. The bright, colorful, moving light shows, the hustle and bustle of the crowds of people moving in all directions punctuated by laughter and silliness would have been too much for me. It would have taken me down. Within minutes, I would have had a blazing headache, been dizzy and nauseous, and had poor balance. I would’ve had to hold on to Andrew and Glyn‘s arms for stability. This time I did it with no such stress and very little physical support.
Those symptoms, dizziness, nausea, lack of balance, and headaches, are my body’s way of telling me that I’m out of my comfort zone and I need to rein it back. (Other people have different reactions.) The thing is I don’t need to rein it back. I need to push through until it’s too much and then stop. That’s how I’m progressing on my healing journey.
For those of you, who haven’t followed along, a year ago in a freak moment, part of my left retina detached. The night after I had surgery, I stumbled twice in the bathroom and trashed my knee, spraining my ACL, MCL, PCL, and shredding my meniscus. That required an additional surgery that could not happen until my eye had healed adequately, eight weeks after my retina reattachment surgery. Then I had a second eye surgery to remove scar tissue that had built up on my retina.
I’m not completely back to normal yet, but I’m on the road and I see so much progress. There’s still distortion in my left eye, although with red light therapy (to remove inflammation in my eye and knee) and vestibular therapy to help my visual, physical, and auditory systems work together to control my balance and coordination, I see so much improvement. I am getting better! I still have a ways to go, but I’m on the road. As my eye doctor said, I’m not going to know how my vision will level out until at least a year from surgery, which was last March. That aside, I’m becoming more functional and self-sufficient all the time. My independence is something that I have always prized and have at various times in my life, lost. I continue to move forward in my recovery journey, still learning patience and the ability to rely on others when I need them.
Andrew has been an absolute rockstar through all of this. To be honest, I have not been easy. At times, my self-concept and self-esteem have suffered. I have felt bad about myself. My internal narrative can get pretty dark and negative sometimes. Through it all Andrew has reaffirmed and reinforced that caring for me is where he chooses to be, and that he would not choose to be anywhere else. He also consistently reminds me of how far I’ve come, a journey that it’s difficult for me to see step-by-step. He has literally been my lifesaver. I cannot express my gratitude enough.
And now, my friend Glyn. He showed me nurturing, care, and understanding over a decade ago when I broke both of my wrists. You learn a lot about people by how comfortable they are being with you when you’re damaged. Glyn was always comfortable and easy to be around where other friends were sometimes awkward, or simply avoided me.
This situation was different. I had had a couple friends visit a day or two as I recovered, but with no expectations that I would be able to do anything. Paaige and Miche were wonderful. They had no expectations that I would do anything or go anywhere and were just comfortable to be with me and follow my lead. Glyn was making his first trip to Las Vegas and to be honest, I was a little fearful. With my friends, I am normally vibrant, engaged, high energy, and high activity. I have not been able to be those things since these accidents. I didn’t want to become frustrated that I couldn’t be the me that I wanted to be. I didn’t want my friend to have a disappointing experience in Las Vegas. I wanted to make sure that I set appropriate boundaries and called events and activities when I needed to. Glyn was awesome! As we explored Resorts World, where my daughter works, and Fontainebleau, where the new Cocoa Dolce is located, Glyn recommended that we stop for a cup of tea – ostensibly because he was thirsty – likely he also recognized that I was getting tired. It was wonderful to have someone ask for something they wanted that benefited me rather than having someone show pity or concern for my capacity. Well done, my friend!
We had a big exploration day that day. We walked over 12,000 steps, found the Ghost Donkey Bar where I tried my first sips of mezcal. We explored the Bellagio, rode the bus up and down the strip, and I felt gloriously free and capable. When we needed breaks, we stopped. When I needed support, I held Glyn’s arm. It was such a strong powerful day for me.
The next two days I was much more low energy and I needed to rein it back in a bit. We still had fun visiting some of my favorite places and enjoying lunch and dinner. Andrew picked up the slack one night and took Glyn to explore some sites while I rested. Then we had another wonderful “get out there and do things” day, giving Glyn his first experience with Korean barbecue at Master Kim’s, spending time on Fremont Street, and going to the ice bar 5° Below Zero in Mandalay Bay, where we wore fur coats and hats and sipped colorful, sugary sweet cocktails from glasses made of ice. The last day of his visit Glyn and I went to lunch at a new Japanese restaurant in Town Square, Mall.
This trip was about both of us doing things we had never done before. It was about me being kind to myself (although I did have a couple moments, when my gremlin voice – what I call my critical self talk – tried to take me down), asking for what I needed, enjoying myself to the fullest, recognizing that it’s OK to be low energy sometimes and almost normal others. Realizing the freedom to be with a friend that I could trust to understand, and not to push. The steps toward normalcy are important and powerful, as is the recognition that I still have some limitations, and that these may continue indefinitely. Having loved ones and friends for support and nurturing during these times are more precious than gold.
Deborah's Deliberations 