Recovering from an operation

I am now back at work after major knee surgery,  and so there is a gap since the last post. It has been a thought-provoking experience. I had not felt so vulnerable for a long time - very dependent on the surrounding people to make things happen, from the trivial: "Could you bring in the post?" to the major concern like getting to the hospital on time, despite traffic, for an outpatient appointment - of which there seemed many.  The first one came so soon after discharge that I wondered why they had bothered to send me home.

I had at one level too much time on my hands - fortunately after three weeks convalescing at home I no longer felt ill - and, at another level I had no time to do what I wanted to do because there was always something intervening, like doing exercises, taking the endless pills, eating at the time convenient to the carers, etc. I had an enormous sense of relief to take back the management of my own life. But this did not seem real until around six or seven weeks after the operation, which is the longest time I can remember since childhood in which I so depended on others for basic things like help to put my shoes on.

It seemed real when I could finally decide how I would spend my time that day, when I would eat, when I would pop out to the shops. Driving was almost the last thing to return. I was advised by the medics not to drive before six weeks of recovery had elapsed, and I took this advice. But driving gives me a huge sense of freedom which I had almost forgotten because I had so taken it for granted for years and years. For a while I recaptured that delightful state in which every small thing gives pleasure - deciding what to eat for lunch, sliding into a convenient space in Sainsbury's car park. I kept wanting to behave like a kid and say, "Look, mum, I  can do it!"

A few feelings and ideas remain that came out of that period. One was the fairly obvious realisation that I am much more dependent on the surrounding community than I care to admit. Less obvious, but striking for me, was realising how much my concentration improved when I was forced into not trying to do so much. When spread-eagled on a sofa you have limited choices - can't butterfly your way through a day, doing this, that and the other, often all at the same time. It doesn't work. If a decent book is available, you had better read it, especially if the only other option is daytime TV, the last resort of the hopeless. I realised I quite often 'read' while doing two or three other things at the same time. Or 'watch TV' while keeping my eye on the laptop, etc. This has to stop! I enjoyed things so much more when I was focussing on one thing at a time. Got some nourishment from them.  In my present state of much-improved mobility and fitness, I can feel the old bad habits creeping in - and I don't like it much. Some self-discipline will be involved, but I need to get back my sense of mindfulness, as the exponents of this practice like to call it. I suspect that we all suffer from the illusion that if we 'multi-task', we will somehow get more done in a shorter space of time. The women's movement made a virtue of multi-tasking for women and did us no favours. This is pure baloney, actually, since what really happens is that we half-do everything - skim over the surface of life - leaving a task to be completed some other time, which will just take time another day, or more likely be abandoned. Or we get used to being sloppy with everything, and thus quietly lower our standards and do nothing that gives us real satisfaction. Worst of all, we decide it takes too much time to think in any depth, and have no opinion about anything at all - which we are then obliged to rationalise as the virtue of a peace-loving mind. Which brings me to a more subtle point: what is the point of doing anything anyway? If it is not to achieve the pleasure and self-nourishment that comes from doing it. 

And if there is no reward involved, why am I doing it? "It has to be done by somebody," is a common response. Well, maybe - but does it have to be done by you? This comes up, frequently,
in psychotherapy sessions. Women especially seem to feel that they cannot possibly leave a job alone that a partner refuses to notice. If the partner has reneged on 'their job', they feel they have no choice but to do it for them.  This is simply untrue. You can leave the bins unemptied until somebody complains! And then refer the complainant to your partner! It's hard at first, but it gets easier with time, trust me.  "I get paid for doing it" seems to me to be an alibi for a doing a job you hate, rather than a reason. You have two options which are being discounted: one is to get another job, and the other is to find out what is likeable about the job you are doing. Getting another job may involve upheaval and sacrifice. Jobs may be thin on the ground in your field. But sometimes life requires you to take a risk, take the hit and move on. If that's impossible, then it is possible to find something interesting or at least tolerable about the job you are doing. My sister once told me that early in married life she realised that she would have to do a lot of washing up, which was not her favourite chore, but she decided that this being the case, she would learn to enjoy washing up. I thought this heroic at the time - have never achieved it myself - but it makes good sense if you can do it. Even then there are options - save up for a dishwasher, hire your partner for the task, or the kids. I notice my sister eventually took the second option - and good luck to her.

What mindfulness has taught me, though, is that there is magic in every moment, if I can bear to pause and consider it. And this is what I miss when I lose my concentration and start butterflying my way through life - trying desperately to do everything my brain tells me to do and failing to pause and reflect on what I really want to do, or how I really want to do it.