8-30-13
Do you remember the childhood game “Red Light, Green Light,
1-2-3?”
100 feet or so separates you and some friends from the
caller. The caller would have their back turned to you calling out “Red light,
green light 123”…. As this was being called, you had to run from your spot to
the caller as fast as you could, BUT as soon as they said “3” and they turned
around you had to freeze. Then the caller turned back around repeated the same
phrase as you ran, and stopped, ran and stopped until finally you reached the
caller and tagged them.
Well this seems to describe my journey just getting to Morocco. I’m doing everything
I need to do to prepare, full speed ahead, focused on the ‘caller’ and then I’m
forced to freeze. Then I’m back on track moving forward to get to my
destination, and then I have to freeze.
My last post says 1 week left in the US. Well, I had to
freeze yet again. As most of you know I had ankle and foot surgery on 6/3. I
spent the summer recovering and preparing for the trip. As hard as it was I
listened to the doctors, PT’s, my body, took it easy, and did my therapy.
My love for dancing on a warm summer night to a great band
and hours of lounging on the beach, followed by yoga were not in my plans.
Almost 11 weeks post surgery and 10 days before my move, I decided to get my
toes back in the sand and smell the salty air. (The beach was where I tore my
tendon last year to begin with, dancing in the sand.) But the beach remains my
favorite place.
I felt confident in my body knowing that I had done the
rehab and wasn’t going to walk too far. I did the research and picked the
perfect day. After about 4 hours of bliss I headed back home. That night my
ankle began to ache. Damn it!
To make a long story short, that 200-yard walk was probably
the Best thing that could have happened. While it tore my rinaculum which hold
the tendons in place, mine was now dislocated.
It leads me to an emergency surgery.
That emergency surgery revealed an underlying infection that
was already brewing. That infection lead to a 5 day hospital stay on IV
antibiotics, followed by another 5 days at home with IV therapy. The next ten
days home involved two ER visits due to PICC line issues in my arm and a
reaction to the medication. I still had to pack the rest of the house, sell my
car, and then move in with my brother-n-law.
S-T-R-E-S-S over load.
The day I was released from the hospital was the day I was
supposed to be leaving to Morocco. The time I was to be boarding the plan, was
almost the exact time to the hour my 18 bags of IV medication showed up. Talk
about an emotional rollercoaster. Gee Whiz! Really? But Why? I don’t
understand.
For those that know me well, know I’m extremely organized,
ok, perhaps a bit anal, but setting long-term goals and working to achieve them
is something I thrive on.
This was NOT in the plan. This was SO far out of the plan. It
was almost like a bad dream I was living.
Month by month, week by week, the checklist was being
checked off.
How does one really prepare to move abroad for 2 years? I
decided on 4 suitcases, a carry-on, and a backpack. Sell the car, rent my
Co-op, my dogs would be in the care of my brother-n-law until I return for Xmas
break, and I took a leave from work.
After many days of tears, hours of doctor visits, and trying
to heal in the same house my sister tried to heal in, it became clear.
The Universe has a much bigger plan. Mine was changed for a
reason. And I may never know why.
So, I was forced to look at the bright side. Had the surgery
not taken place in the US, it most certainly would have been done elsewhere.
And that is definitely not part of anyone’s plan.
8/30 and just 2 weeks post surgery the doctors cleared me to
fly. Not recommended, but cleared me. I will be on oral antibiotics for 4 weeks
and will continue seeing an orthopedic doctor in Marrakech while hopefully
getting physical therapy for the next few months and beginning to heal that
ankle once again.
I made it through the airport with wheel-chair service,
which actually was rather speedy. The quickest I have gotten to a gate in my
life. I’m on the plane, seat next to me is empty, and leg is elevated.
It’s time for take off.
I’m doing it. I’m Finally going to Morocco!!!!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment