It’s Day 3 post-op. So how am I doing so far?

Unsurprisingly, I’m not sleeping great. Getting up to pee at night is challenging. Last night I nearly fell over coming back to bed, which was a momentarily painful close call.

Day to day is pretty basic. I’m spending 20 hrs/day in bed, braced up and comforted by ice packs and various pillows. I’m dealing with pretty constant pain that is managed by meds that make me loopy and drowsy. My right ankle and foot are quite swollen, warm, and they have less feeling in them than normal. When I get up and move around, I’m using crutches and hobbling around at a snail’s pace. But it feels good to move. My appetite is fine – I’m eating normal meals and have enjoyed breakfast in bed each day courtesy of my amazing family.

I finally connected with my surgeon’s office today. The surgery went well. No concerns. Digging a little deeper, it was apparently also rather complex. There was a lot of damage. They said they’ll send me his notes. I’ll also get more details, including what to expect moving forward, when I see him in person in two weeks. Meanwhile I also got some after-care instructions. Don’t put any weight on the leg. Don’t remove the brace. Shower when I want, but keep the leg wrapped up and dry. (Why wasn’t all of this communicated to me after the procedure?)

So where’s my head at? For some reason, truthfully, I don’t feel that sad or down. Maybe it hasn’t fully sunk in. Maybe I’m still in shock. It definitely still feels surreal. Since the moment I came off the ladder, I’ve felt acutely present, like in a focused crisis-management mode, handling each moment as it comes. So when that settles down and I look up and scan the proverbial horizon, I wonder how I will feel then?

I’ve read and heard a lot about how injuries like this can be really soul-crushing, mainly due to the length of time it takes to recover, the huge lifestyle adjustments, the physical pain of both the injury and rehab, and then whatever lingering consequences and residual effects there might be.

There are many reasons to feel bleak. My summer is definitely not going to go the way I expected. My ambitious fitness goals are completely out the window. I don’t know when (or if) I’ll ride a bike again. I won’t have the satisfaction of walking to/from work for at least a year probably. I can’t drive a car (or even sit in a car properly) for at least a couple of months. My ability to watch or participate in activities outside of the house is basically zero. Watching my kids do their sports. Taking them to school. Going to the park or the beach.

On the other hand, a year goes by awfully fast, and if I stay diligent and motivated, my time can still be highly productive and meaningful. It’s an adventure that I didn’t sign up for, but I know I can rise up to meet this challenge and overcome it. And without question, I can still be a great husband and dad, maybe just a little differently than before. Speaking of which, I have a great team with me, starting with my wife and kids. Their support and patience will be integral to a successful recovery. I also have great friends and colleagues who are genuinely interested in my well-being. And the gym and physio staff I know will be highly motivated to get me back to full health.

I think it’s good that I’m taking it day by day right now and approaching things with curiosity and open-mindedness – focused on what I can do, not what I can’t. For sure at some point the bottom will fall out and I’ll be in a rut. That might happen several times. I mean, that’s just life, isn’t it? My wife has wisely suggested I proactively book some counselling sessions, to get ahead of the curve in terms of processing it all.

The roller-coaster that I had no plans to go on has just left the gate. For now, I’m still smiling.