We live in remarkable times.
Two weeks ago tomorrow a surgeon sawed out Mrs. Fallon's kid's right knee and replaced it with a fake one. (Really! That's what first came to mind after the surgery. "I'm gonna tell Momma about that stinker doctor.")
Not much pain. I can already sense the absence of the offending arthritis and associated bone on bone damage. I'm relieved.
But what I did NOT expect was to experience such a profound impact on my stamina.
I had been doing indoor training on the rower and the bike for six weeks, two hours a day, in preparation for the surgery. Two days after the surgery I walked up one flight of stairs and had to lay down on the bed, gasping for breath like a beached whale.
Today I returned to work for four hour days and three day weeks. My stamina (from the neck up) has returned. But afterwords, returning home, I needed a nice nap. A NAP?!! And I was able to eat only half a sandwich.
So the take-home message for me is that my body recognizes the surgery as a major trauma and is telling to go hide in cave, shut up and wait a long time. I didn't expect that. But I understand it and it makes sense.
Deliberate and disciplined rest is the hardest of tasks.
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