FGF
day 1–9 of recovery: a bedrotting odyssey
Happy FGF all!
I can not wait to start living a life worth getting excited to write about again. I used to live a fun life, believe it or not, I swear. Last year around this time I had both just run the LA Marathon and attended The Oscars.
This year I cheered from the sidelines at the Strides in Recovery 15.7 mile cheer station and the big excitement for Oscar Sunday was walking from my couch to the bathroom on crutches with relative ease.
So…yeah. This is all to say I’m sorry for these boring Substacks as of late. (They were always boring Kelly. Ok, wow, ouch. Way to hurt a girl while she’s down.)
And while I promise the knee content will stop soon, it’s hard not to write about it since it’s been all consuming in the immediate hereafter. So here is my summary of the first nine days of recovery.
And reminder once again for the love of all things healthy knees, dear reader, STRENGTH TRAIN.
Where and how I’m living 22 hours a day
Day 1: The Delusion Era
Fresh out of surgery, I’m brave. I’m strong. I’m…heavily drugged and delusionally optimistic. I tell people things like, “Honestly, I feel pretty good!” What I mean is: my leg is numb, my brain is floating, and I haven’t yet tried to stand up. I imagine I’ll “take it easy” but still be semi-functional. Maybe answer emails. Maybe outline a pilot. Maybe become the kind of person who uses phrases like “I finally had time to slow down.” Reader, I did not slow down. I came to a complete, medically enforced halt.
Day 2: The Humbling
The nerve block wears off like clockwork 12 hours in and suddenly my knee is like: Hey bitch Remember me? Pain arrives not as a sharp stab, but as a constant, throbbing reminder that I am now in a long-term relationship with a knee brace and crutches. I attempt to get up using crutches and immediately discover that my upper body strength is fictional. My good leg is now overworked and resentful. My bad leg is just along for the ride, like a disgruntled passenger. I also learn that “simple tasks” like going to the bathroom are actually elaborate obstacle courses designed by a sadistic game show producer.
Day 3: The Fatigue Spiral
Why am I so tired? I have done nothing. I have gone nowhere. I have accomplished less than a houseplant. And yet I am utterly exhausted. Turns out healing is a full-time job, and my body is clocking overtime. Meanwhile, my brain is like, Shouldn’t we be… productive? and my body is like, Respectfully, shut up. Also, my wrists now hurt from crutches, which feels like a personal attack. I came in for a knee problem and somehow unlocked bonus injuries.
Day 4: The Emotional Rollercoaster
This is when the bedrotting truly begins. At first, it feels indulgent. Cozy, even. Blankets. Snacks. TV. But then something shifts. You’ve watched too much TV. You’ve scrolled too far. You’ve had the same conversation with your dog 14 times. You start narrating your own life: “She reaches for the remote… again… will she choose a new show? No. She returns to her comfort series.” I miss movement. I miss independence. I miss not having to plan a 3-step strategy just to stand up.
Day 5: The Bargaining
I begin negotiating with my knee. “What if we just… bent it a little?” Doctor at post-op appointment: Absolutely not. “What if we tried walking without crutches for, like, two seconds?” Knee: I will ruin your life. I also start romanticizing the future: “When I can drive again…” “When I can go on a walk…” “When I can simply exist without thinking about my knee every 4 seconds…” These fantasies feel as distant as the 90s/00s we all yearn for.
Day 6: The Stir-Crazy Era
I would like to file a formal complaint against stillness. I am someone who runs. Who moves. Who leaves the house voluntarily. Now I am dependent. On people. On timing. On whether or not I have the energy to crutch to the kitchen. I try to be chill about it, but internally I’m like a caged animal who also needs help getting a glass of water. This is also when I begin saying things like: “I just want to SWEAT and not just because of this DAMN HEAT.” In any other context, this would be alarming.
Day 7: The Slight Acceptance (With Resistance)
Something starts to shift. Not dramatically or in, like, a movie montage way. But I start to understand that all this bullshit is temporary. Time will fly, I shall come back stronger and this garbage is just part of the process. My only job right now is to heal. Do I love it? HELL NO. Do I accept it? …begrudgingly. I start noticing small wins: Less pain when adjusting positions. More confidence on crutches. The realization that I have, in fact, survived an entire week of this. 5 weeks in this state togo.
Day 8: JK THIS F**KING BLOWS MAKE IT STOP
Day 9: SEE ABOVE ALSO IT’S VERY HOT OUT MAKE THAT STOP TOO
So TL; DR: recovery continues to be humbling. It strips you down to the basics: Can you move? Can you rest? Can you ask for help? It’s also deeply unglamorous. There is nothing cinematic about struggling to put on shorts or celebrating a successful trip to the bathroom. But there’s something real about it, too. For now, I am here. In bed. Rotting, yes, but also healing. And one day soon, I will walk, run, and sweat again. But for today? I shall adjust my sweat-infused pillows for the 47th time and call it progress.
Have a good weekend all. Stay cool.
(P.S- a lot of the links below are being weird and only showing the IG logo but they still work.)
THE SHALLOW STUFF
Ready to laugh?
An SNL sketch I actually LAUGHED OUT LOUD at? Hell has frozen over.
Ready to smile?
Ready for some vibes?
THE DEEP STUFF
Ready to cry?
Ready to be inspired?
The below makes me very happy to see! Am I eligible?
Ready for your good deed of the week?
Come out and support indie music! The Pretty Flowers record release show is coming up next week on March 27th in Pasadena at 8pm and you should get your tickets now. Even if you’re not local, consider buying a copy from afar. I can personally attest that this record truly kicks ass.
THREE THINGS I’M LOVING THIS WEEK
BOOK: Audition by Katie Kitamura
Logline: An unnamed actresses life is upended by a younger man, Xavier, who claims to be her son, forcing her to confront her identity and the roles she plays in life
SHOW: Born to Bowl on HBO Max
It feels like a Christopher Guest movie but IRL. Loving this quirky slice of life docu.
SHOW: Garth Manageri’s Darkplace (YouTube)
Thank you, you know who you are, for recommending this to me in my post surgery rot phase. I don’t know how this never came across my desk but I’m oh so glad it did. I love me some Matt Berry. (And so do The Oscars, evidently. Brilliant voiceover choice.)
