I’ve managed to stay home since my last hospital release on March 5th. Please forgive my silence, it has taken me a while to adjust to the new me. I came home and I was still running low grade fevers up until recently. I’d wake up feeling achy most days. It is hard to try to work on strengthening your body when you feel yucky. I truthfully couldn’t get my head in the right space. I know all the positivity speeches, it was the last thing I needed. I know all the “you are so strong” comments and I didn’t want to hear those either. I needed my head to remember what already knew. I reached out to my life coach.

I must say I was right to reach out, it was exactly what I needed. She didn’t say anything that I didn’t know but she said the things I needed to hear. Things truthfully started to get better from that point. The fevers suddenly went away. I finally stopped aching when I woke up in the morning. I start appreciating the small victories. My victories are small but I take each day one at a time. I wasn’t able to get my right foot to pull up anymore. I was driving, with my right foot, before I entered the hospital. I’m now able to get some movement from the foot. I stood up and transferred to my wheelchair, with the therapist help, that was a win. I stood transferred to the wheelchair, without my therapist help. I transferred to my wheelchair myself. My aide was near in case I needed help. These are my victories. I needed to let go of the long term picture and concentrate on the present day.

That is how I changed my outlook on my situation. I focus on the little victories. I stopped looking at all the things I couldn’t do as of now. I recognized my fear of the unknown future but stopped letting that be my mind’s focus. My life coach sent me a beautiful message about fear.

• When you have the energy, witness your fear and remind yourself that even if fear is part of the journey— it cannot drive or navigate! According to Elizabeth Gilbert, fear has to get in the backseat and buckle up. She writes:
  • Dearest Fear, Hope and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I do acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that your take your job seriously. Apparently your job is to induce complete panic whenever I’m about to do anything interesting – and, may I say, you are superb at your job. So by all means, keep doing your job, if you feel you must. But I will also be doing my job on this road trip and Hope will be doing its job. There’s plenty of room in this vehicle for all of us, so make yourself at home, but understand this: Hope and I are the only ones who will be making any decisions along the way. I recognize and respect that you are part of this family, and I will never exclude you from our activities, but still – your suggestions will never be followed. You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote. You’re not allowed to touch the road maps; you’re not allowed to suggest detours; you’re not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you’re not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive.”