I fell on Mothers' Day in 2019 and suffered a number of broken bones including sacrum, ribs, T-3 and a major blow to my fearlessness (backyard zip line). After a number of weeks in the hospital and rehab, wearing a back brace and moving with a walker, my main objective was to somehow go upstairs to my retreat studio. Tiny step by step...one foot and one step at a time.......I made it and began painting larger canvases. Everything was difficult. The brace skewed my vision and thereby my sense of perspective and color as well as my eye hand coordination. I suppose I felt that painting was my own personal form of therapy. My stamina, mood, hope, and esteem were so low. I, indeed retreated as much as I could. it was a miserable time---only made better through painting and prosecco. The later causing dreadful mornings. After a few more weeks, I worried so much that my life as I had know it before was over. I could barely go up the stairs without being so tired that I needed to come down again. My doctor suggested that I begin walking. I have never walked so slowly or received so many pitiful glances as I made my way through the neighborhood. Few people spoke. I suppose they could see my determination. I don't know. But, after a few weeks I was so much stronger. I realized that I was responsible for my own healing. After another month, I even offered my doctor an alternative to the restrictive brace and he agreed. I could breathe again. Maybe I can be in charge of my life......
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