An Operative Word


No, I can’t run. Yet. I can’t sit for very long without having to get up. Yet. I can’t dragon boat race. Yet. And I can’t even fathom getting onto a bicycle… yet.

It’s become a fixture in my daily vocabulary largely because it defines not only me, but my mindset, vis-à-vis my recovery. Some people, post-injury, surgery or illness, will focus on the glass-half-empty that reminds them of all that they can no longer do. It will suck the air out of them, spiral them into an inevitable depression and get them stuck in negativity.

I’m unwilling to give up hope of returning to once again participate in all the activities I loved to do. There’s no guarantee that I will be able to do so. But I don’t need a guarantee. And besides, I’m no fan of doctors’ predictions, one way or another. Even without a guarantee, I think I’m best off heading in the direction of total recovery…. in the event that, one day, quite out of the blue, I can sit without pain, I can take a jog around the lake, and I can attempt to sit on a bike for a short spin around the block – or more.

I refuse to let anyone dictate the limits of my recovery. It’s unknown. To everyone.

And so, like another mantra, I pepper my daily conversations with a word that is at once so simple and yet so central to my healing: yet.

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