Returning to the "Routine"

Two months is an eternity when you don't have a routine. Try as I might, I just couldn't manage getting into any sort of routine while recovering from major surgery. You just never know what one day from the next is going to be like. Throw on top of that the emotional upheaval of losing a parent and the temporal distortion is really drastic. But a few weeks before returning to work, I started to realize I was really going to be in for it if I didn't start trying to get back into a routine.

Physically, I feel fine. The range of motion in my arms has returned and even though I still feel a stretch in my abdomen at times when I stand up after sitting for a while, I am able to walk upright. In anticipation of returning to work, I started scheduling my days so my re-entry into the "real world" wouldn't be as hard. Ha! You know what they say about 'good intentions.' I would wake up (after a mere 11 hours of sleep) energized and ready for my daily routine. I would actually dress in something other than pajamas (to make it more realistic!) And start to do my little list. Mostly things around the house, but I managed to get out to do a few errands too. I tried to walk to the post office every day to build up my stamina. But every afternoon, I would hit a wall and need to take a nap. "No problem," I thought. "I'm working up to it and once I get back to work, I'll be right as rain."

I started back to work on Wednesday. I developed a plan to ease myself back into work. I know I can't push too hard, so I decided to be very mindful about how I'm feeling. I woke up early to give myself plenty of time to get ready. It had been quite some time since I donned make-up and work clothes. It was like the first day of school after summer break. It was beyond wonderful to see all of my co-workers again! And although I didn't have new clothes, I did have a whole new 'look' as it were. "Did you lose weight?" "Oh, you look great." I heard over and over. "No," I replied. "No weight loss. It's just been re-arranged."

I spent the day catching up on what I'd missed, saying hello to everyone, but at 2:30 I hit the wall. All I could imaging doing from that point was crawling under my desk and taking a nap. I left early and after the hour commute home, passed out on the couch for a couple of hours. I'm pretty sure I'd pushed too hard because I had a wretched night. In fact, I slept through my alarm (that blared for an entire hour) and woke up 90 minutes late. The next day, I was determined to pay even closer attention to my energy level. But low and behold, around 2:30 I hit the wall again. The problem is that I go along just fine and then my energy is gone. The feeling doesn't creep up so it's hard for me to tell if I'm pushing too hard or not. So I talked to my boss about working shorter hours to build my stamina. I have to push a little because that's the only way I'm going to get back to normal.

What was that mantra I had a while ago? Wasn't it patience, patience? ...Patience damn it!