The problem with quiet days.

Today was a very quiet day…just what the Doctor ordered.

A few days after I was discharged from hospital after a week in bed, and ten days after the stroke, we visited Dr. Bakshee, who looked after me during the hospitalization. Among the other things he said to me was, “Take it easy…don’t get excited about anything…spend at least half the day in bed. That’s the best thing you can do for yourself.” It sounded so simple, and so wonderful, to have no pressure, just relax and heal.

However, it has been difficult to manage that. A day with nothing in it to “do,” stretches out ahead of me like a looooong ribbon. Virtually every day since I got home, I have walked. Sometime a kilometer, sometimes three, sometimes five or more. At first, I just strolled, as the Doctor suggested – so that my blood pressure did not rise. As I got more clearance from the Doctor, I picked up the pace, until now I am walking at mu normal clip. Not exactly fast, but a pace that feels good to me.

Walking is important to me. Initially, it took the place of the running I used to do, when my knees and my back were whole. I used that to burn off emotional energy. I probably still do that to some degree with the walking.  It feels like this is something I can do for myself. It helps to control my weight, it gives me the sense of actually contributing to my healing, my recovery.

Since I got my “wheels” back, I have not walked a single day. I feel disoriented, like I have to re-integrate that activity into a new life. It’s weird. Even though I’m back in the pool, at least sometimes, I seem to need the activity of pacing to make an impact on my own internal process.

A lot of thinking gets done when I walk. I process all kinds of things – ideas, memories, emotions…it’s a busy time for me. I observe all kinds of thing. Looking is part of the internal process, somehow. A day like today, with virtually nothing to do, feels awful. It threatened rain all day, and I was waiting for a technician to come by when he could, so I was stuck. Earlier in the day, a friend asked me to go with him to Red Deer to size up a paint contract. That was a nice outing, and I enjoyed it. But I missed the walk.

Tomorrow, at least I have the pool to look forward to in the morning, and then a visit to Tim’s. After that, the whole day is open to me. I hope it isn’t rainy, so I can walk comfortably. If it rains, I may walk anyway, and get wet, just because I need to.

Who knew that there was this kind of stress for me in the quiet recovery process of doing nothing for a day? I try, now and then, to stay in bed until ten AM. I never make it past eight, even if I have nothing specific to do.

The whole thing is a strange process, and it makes me feel strange. Well, but not healed. Study, but somehow fragile. Sane…but a little crazy. My attention span is down to nothing. I can’t read for more than a few minutes, and I am restless. What would it take for me to simply relax into the process of healing, without being anxious and unsettled about it? Is this just another way for the old anxiety attacks to manifest themselves? Sigh…more another day.