The upside of having been ill or injured is how brilliant it feels once you start getting better. For four months now I have been unable to walk much, hampered by a torn cartilage in my right knee.
This has been good for my soul. I learnt to be patient. I learnt to distance myself from constant pain. I learnt that I am still me, even if my modus operandi has to change completely. I learnt a bit about acceptance – something I will need to develop increasingly as I head into old age.
Since an arthroscopy eight weeks ago, I am slowly but surely getting better. I am gradually able to up my walking by tiny increments. The surgeon tells me the inside of my knee is in poor shape; I’m likely to need a replacement in the next decade or so. But for now, we both hope that the clean up they did in there will keep me going for a few more years.
The euphoria of getting back on my feet has surprised me. Walking the streets, albeit slowly and with a clumsy hobble, has me feeling as high as a kite. Such a simple, basic pleasure; I want to grab every passer by who is on their feet and mobile and say, ‘Do you realise how lucky you are?’
Walking has long been one of my favourite things to do; now I am rediscovering its pleasures. How it makes me feel somehow one with the created order. How it is the perfect pace to notice things – birds, small animals, plants, a startling cloud formation. How everything in my body seems to shake down and find its rightful place when I go for a walk, how it helps me process everything that happens during the day. How it clears my head and banishes the small drifts of depression that still sometimes dog me.
I recall every time I have had gastro, and how wonderful it felt when I stopped vomiting. The bliss I feel when a migraine finally lifts. I remember how I felt each time I delivered a baby, and again when I weaned them - as though I had got my body back. (One of the rediscovered pleasures I indulged in the day after each child was born was lying on the uncomfortable hospital bed on my tummy, reading.)
Being able to walk again makes me feel not only that I have my body back, but that I have regained something of my equanimity. Being calm and cheerful most of the time is a lot less effort. The sense of profound well-being engendered by no longer being in pain is significant.
I am one of the fortunate ones who get better. Everywhere are people with chronic illness who will never recover their previous energy and fitness. Not to mention those injured in accidents who will never walk again, or worse.
And ultimately, no matter how well I look after myself, I will, if I’m lucky enough to last that long, become old. Death awaits us all in the end. I hope that the brushes I have had with illness and disability in the past year will prepare me to age a little more gracefully. And to make the most of being able while I am.