This is a bit of an update on – uh – Iceland.
Remember when I channeled Humpty Dumpty and had a great fall not quite two weeks ago? Remember me describing the bruise as the shape of Iceland, only dark purple and on my upper left butt cheek?
I am totally amazed, but only the southern coast of Iceland is now purple. The rest of the Iceland-shaped bruise is yellowish already. In only two weeks! There are two hard lumps under the skin that are still somewhat sensitive to touch – but not hugely, and they really don’t bother me a great deal.
I missed a week of Pilates classes, because I couldn’t lie on my back comfortably on my yoga mat. I went back this week, and managed very well by adding one of those blue cushy gymnastics mats underneath the yoga mat. The only thing I couldn’t do was rolling. Everything else was fine. Maybe next week I will scrap the gymnastics mat and see how it goes.
I missed a week and a half at the gym too, and again, went back this week. There were a couple of machines that put some pressure on that spot on my lower back, but it was certainly doable. It felt so good to be back at it – and you have no idea how weird it is for me to say that. Exercise and I have not always been besties, so this is really something!
Also, my right shoulder is improving SO much! After having missed that time at the gym, I was absolutely blown away by how easily I did some of the machines and some of the stretching exercises. Meaning, I actually COULD do those machines and stretches without discomfort! I’m back to almost full function on that shoulder, and I am so happy about that! This has been a very long haul, since the end of last October, and I never expected it to take that long to get pretty much back to normal. (Of course, I never expected to be over 50 years old, either, so maybe that’s the real issue here.)
I have to say that I’m having issues with growing older. I certainly don’t look my age, and like most middle-aged people (and seniors, like my mom), I feel much younger inside. I’m growing older kicking and screaming, and it’s hard for me to admit how old I actually am. When I say that I have a 26-year-old daughter, the look on peoples’ faces is truly amazing to behold, and often they accuse me of lying – or being a slut and having had her when I was like 12 or so. PG is almost 3 years younger than me, but because he is growing older much more gracefully than I (meaning that his hair is almost totally grey now and he doesn’t care), most people think that he is older than I am. So this whole body-breaking-down-and-taking-way-longer-than-I-ever-thought-it-would-to-heal is difficult to deal with.
But at least I can report that Iceland is receding … and that’s okay.