Everything I do, I do fast. I like to; it’s efficient and I can get a lot done that way. And there’s a lot I want to get done. But recently, I had to readjust my pace from 60 to zero in the length of time it took my surgeon to reattach my rotator cuff and biceps tendons in my right arm.
Suddenly, not only could I not write my requisite daily .87, work out at the gym and/or dojang, fold a few loads of laundry, cook dinner, clean the house and run everyone to wherever they needed to be, I couldn’t even pull up my own damn pants.
Well, I could, but it took a really, really long time.
Fortunately, it’s now 14 days post-op, and I’m on the mend. I’m able to start using my arm (a very little bit), which makes it easier to get dressed, but I’m still not supposed to lift anything heavier than a teacup. I’m also not yet allowed to drive, so I’ve begun walking errands instead of running them. With only half the use of my arms, everything takes at least twice as long to complete. But I’m getting used to going slow.
Today I’m going to resume the second draft of my book, but first I’m going to write a stack of thank you notes to all my family and friends who brought food and flowers, drove me around, kept my kids, and kept me company. (I’m especially grateful to my husband for taking two weeks off to take care of me, my BFF and writing partner Tobey who fed us for days and spent hours in the ER with me when I developed an allergic reaction to the surgical adhesive, and my dear friend Lee, who schlepped me to doctors offices all one day and still brought homemade soup that night.)
I had time to receive those gifts, and so I’m making time to express gratitude for them. Regardless of the speed of life, there’s always time for that.