DREAMS COME TRUE

I wrote the following piece of retrospection seven years ago when I was offered the chance of making one very big dream come true.  Today, my reality matches the dream I had and life is good.  Don’t be afraid to dream.

COFFEE TIME

I need a coffee to sort my thoughts.  I’m so unsure of where I’m going.  The pain has been a daily presence for thirty four years, and more is coming.  I don’t know what to think about it, or how I will manage.

Yes, I know the long term goal after I survive six surgeries will be to stand and walk normally again.  But I’ve been disabled for more years that I was abled, so I have trouble balancing my thoughts, never mind the steps I’ll be taking.

My whole life is arranged around the pain and limitation from previously broken legs that healed misaligned.  I decline invitations because I can’t stand for long, or because I can’t walk the distance or can’t climb the stairs.  I only want to go out in the daytime, before my pain killer wears off and I need to climb into the sanctuary of my bed.  If I entertain, I need three days to prepare.  While a young mother, I never walked my children to school and I never went on their field trips with them.  Now I’m unable to babysit my grandchildren as I can’t chase the tots or carry the baby.  Grocery shopping is a monumental task that I dread each week.  Housework gets done sporadically.  And through the years, the limitation has grown more severe.  Now the knees are damaged by the misalignments.  My condition will never improve on its own.  Untreated, a wheelchair awaits me like smothering quicksand.

I had a glimmer of hope when my surgeon suggested replacing the knees without realigning the legs, but after further investigation, he couldn’t assure me that would be successful.  So now I am faced with first having my legs realigned before having the knees replaced.  That’s three surgeries for each leg.

Am I strong enough for this?  Do I have enough courage?  Will I be able to cope with recovery at home, with all the steps that confront me for anything I want to do?  Will I accept complacently all the chores left undone?  Will I endure the loneliness of being home alone and unable to drive for weeks at a time?  And will I survive the pain?

I do not know.  I simply do not know.

But I do know this.  I am going ahead with the surgeries.  To stand and walk normally again?  That’s been my dream for thirty-four years.  Maybe dreams do come true.  I just don’t know.  Yet.

May I have another coffee, please, while I think about it some more?

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By Lisa A. Hatton