I sat alone in a room with the clock. Just me and the clock. For hours each day. Its loud ticking reminded me of every mind-numbing second that slipped by as I recovered from hip surgery.
If you’ve never had hip surgery, recovery basically involves one simple instruction: whatever you do, DON’T BEND! A 90 degree bend – even to just sit on a chair – could pop that thing out of its socket and next you’d be blinded and howling by the searing pain. Or so I imagined. I didn’t want to find out, so I didn’t bend.
(Think for a moment of how many times you bend in a day, by the way. To sit on the couch. Use the toilet. Get in a vehicle. Even eat a bowl of soup. Even with some handy-dandy tricks and tools at my disposal, it was a challenge, folks!)
So I lived in our living room, laid back in our recliner or on the hospital bed we had brought in special for me. Once I got over the weird feeling of living in the main room, it was actually pleasant to be surrounded by our walls of windows and enjoy our gorgeous country view anytime.
There was a problem though.
I had to be still and quiet and alone for most of every day for weeks.
Here’s the thing. I’ve always been the busy, hard-working type, even before my single-mom years required it. I love to work hard, bustle from task to task, and be highly productive. I’ve also adored being with people.
Sitting by myself unable to work nearly drove me plumb insane that first month. I wished more people would visit. I desperately wanted to climb into the car and grab a coffee with someone. Or show someone a house. Or do… something. With anyone. The walls seemed like they were closing in on me some days and I felt like life was passing me by. It was difficult. Uncomfortable. I started to hate the sound of that clock announcing every second I was missing out on.
After a couple of weeks though, something weird happened.
I began to enjoy the quiet. Solitude grew on me. The joy I discovered in that peace and calm was beautiful, but it also frightened me. Was this the new me? I was turning into a hermit, and I liked it. Would I even be able to enjoy the bustle of my work and the busy social calendar once I returned to work? When I would think about work, I could somehow only remember the long hours and stress I would return to. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to go back.
Over a few months, I returned to work. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my love of my work and people remained intact. In fact, I think the whole hip surgery and recovery deepened my enjoyment of work and my appreciation of people.
The blessing of hip surgery for me was the gift of time to rest and refresh – something I didn’t realize I needed so badly and didn’t know how to do. Recovery forced me to stop and smell the daisies.
The blessing of surgery also was to remind me what I love about my work – the people.
When a person is in a great deal of constant pain, it’s difficult to remain positive. Heck, it’s difficult to even SEE the positive. Now that the pain is gone (thank you, Lord!), I have eyes to see the good stuff again – and that good stuff is always the people I get to work with.
There’s something deeply moving and intimate about helping that young married couple find a home. She’ll have a tummy round with expectation, and their eyes will also be wide with expectation as they search for the home they will grow their family in. Create memories in. Make love in. It will be their own little nest, and I adore being welcomed into that very personal experience. It feeds my soul.
They say we don’t appreciate what we have until it’s gone. I would agree. My hip replacement journey helped me appreciate my health, my career, and the people I get to serve every day. Thankfully, it wasn’t gone for too long, and I get to return to the health and work and people I love.
Name a time you’ve been pushed out of your comfort zone.
Did it help grow your appreciation?
Tina Plett, Sutton Group-Kilkenny Real Estate