Wednesday, January 20, 2016
I care. It seems like all day long it's one form of caring to the next... While there's lots of caring involved in the vocation of wife and mother, what's on my mind now is care of self. It's not an unpopular topic, particularly among mothers. We seem to cheer each other on: "The morning shower or simple cup of coffee before the littles awake is of the utmost importance! (right next to prayer!)". We cheer on the friends who are struggling to fit in exercise in the wee hours of the morning ... or on lunch breaks or evening excursions.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just about to turn 31, but I feel weary of caring for my body while at the same time feeling dumbfounded that it's likely to get more complicated...
So, yesterday was my last insurance-approved physical therapy visit for carpal tunnel. The shooting pains that come from carting around my oh-so-not-starving-and-beautifully-chubby daughter are not infrequent and I have followed the instructions (mostly). Four times per day, 3-4 sets of different kinds of exercises, brand new splints cast for wearing at night, and a forever constant attempt to remind myself to sit up straight and not put pressure on my hands.
Layer all of this on flossing, eating calories to nurse my baby, daily exercise, water consumption and let's face it: laundry and dishes. And my, oh my... it's all caring. All the time. I'll admit it. It does make me wonder whether or not I'll get a resurrected body. No carpal tunnel, no-stress-zone shoulders, never dry skin and simple infections and viruses becoming a distant memory sounds pretty darn good to me.
But for now? I'll go finish my fourth and final sets of tendon glides and nerve glides. Because yes, maybe I'll get closer to pain-free days by obeying Debra, my OT. And let's face it: This is a great reason to care and stay put here as long as possible: