I have been putting off writing a blog post for a long time. Back in March I experienced a fracture of a metatarsal in my left foot and this was a repeat fracture of several years ago. Although the fracture healed again, complications set in. I am a very driven and self-motivated person, so I (literally) put my best foot forward and soldiered on, trying to cope with my busy, active life. However, 6 months later I was not pain free and actually it was getting worse. After considerable visits to different specialists and steroid injections, I am now waiting to see a Podiatric surgeon.
It is as though my life has gradually shrunk away from the sides of the tin. Daily life has always been inexorably intertwined with gardening and now everything is a struggle and it is likely to continue to be a struggle for some time to come. I am back in the garden now but I am a shadow of my former manic (!) and passionate self. Life is different. The last time I went for a proper walk was March 22nd and anything I do in the garden requires careful thought and lots of time. Putting on my gardening clobber is not the same as it was and not just because of my new boots packed with thick wadding to support to my foot. I am of limited capacity. It is hard to embrace and celebrate what I can do and let go of what I can't do, when I am still grieving for what I have lost.
Whatever the outcome, gardening our large, hilly plot is going to be a forever challenge. Since I have discovered there is a problem with my metabolism, I should not risk encouraging further fractures to develop. My health has leapt to the top of the agenda and I am slowly learning to let go of much of what was important to me because there is now something which is even more important.
I remember joking with everyone that the seats in our garden are redundant because I never have time to sit on them - there is always so much to do! Like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, I would always be rushing around. Now I sit in the garden more than I stand up in it, lazing on the bench by the shed, snug and warm in the greenhouse or perched on the steps by the pergola draped with wisteria. At first, the agony of feeling incapable fought visciously with the agony of walking but eventually calm broke out I can now allow myself to sit and contemplate, even if I am not always dry eyed.
No-one is born a hero and being heroic does not always require us to dramatically slay a dragon or climb a mountain without oxygen. For most of us, we are simply caught unawares and normal life changes in an instant. There the challenge is, thrust upon us and we just have to cope and muddle through. What other option is there? So I too must learn and adapt, accept what has happened and find new goals.
Doc is supporting me and has done amazing work in the garden but there is a limit to what he can do because he has other responsibilities. We may have to bring in more outside help, be realistic about what we can grow in the kitchen garden and our plans for overhauling the under-developed areas are now on hold.
None of us knows what the future will bring. One minute I was racing up and down, down and up, round and round, swinging a spade with one hand and wielding the secateurs with the other. In the next minute I wasn’t doing that very easily at all and gradually I realised I should not even be trying. However, even if I never run down the hill at Springfield again, then I must hold tightly onto the precious memory that I once did.
