This week I decided that I was strong enough to go back to my first yoga class. It’s been two months since my hysterectomy and even though I’m not recovering as quickly as I’d like, I thought that practicing twice a week certainly not hinder my recovery as long as I took it easy.
When I showed up for class, Sue (my favorite instructor) was standing outside the front door. No one had come to open the studio yet so we chatted for a few minutes while waiting. She asked how I was doing. I mentioned that I was attending my first class since the surgery and was a little nervous. She reminded me to take things slowly and suggested that I use some props (foam blocks and bolsters) to make the poses more relaxing. I thanked her for her advice and said that I would be lurking in the very back of class, kind of doing my own thing for the next week or so until I got back into the swing of things.
Once inside the studio and sitting on my mat, it felt as though I’d never left. The calming music; the low lighting; the candles. Everything felt, well…..normal. About oh, two minutes into class though, I found myself laying on my back, stretching my legs while the rest of the yogis did poses I used to be able to do. I couldn’t believe how much I’d regressed in two months. There are a few poses that I can’t even attempt now, and I used to do them perfectly. Well, I told myself. What did you expect? You just need to be diligent and you’ll be back up to speed in no time. Before I left class the owner of the studio asked if we knew someone who needed a job. It seems as though the door was locked earlier because the new employee didn’t show up. I thought about the possibility of interviewing for that job the whole way home.
My original plan was to spend some time concentrating on my Etsy store and my art as I healed while hoping that it would sustain me for a while – thus disproving the term starving artist. I forgot how hard it is to start a business, even when it’s online. Maybe then, this would be a good idea. A part-time job! When Craig and I had dinner that night I mentioned it to him. He thoughtfully listened before reminding me that I still wasn’t strong enough to take both dogs for a walk. “I don’t think you’re physically ready for a job. I think you need a few more weeks to heal.”
Maybe he was right. Then again, here was an opportunity that might not come around again for a while. Hmm…
The next day I thought I’d test my strength by taking both dogs for a walk on the trails. If I could manage that with no problem then surely I was capable of handling a job at the studio. What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I can picture all of you shaking your head, saying – Don’t do it, Ellen. NOOOoooo!)
I put the harnesses on both dogs and loaded them into the car. We started our walk and neither dog pulled on their leashes. Even Emmie, who flips out when she sees a squirrel, did very well. We were walking along nicely, about 60 yards from the car. I was feeling pretty confident, I must say. I could do that job, I thought. I might just apply for it!
Suddenly, I heard a loud CRACK which sounded kind of like a gunshot; then, some rustling of leaves. I turned both directions to see where the sound was coming from before realizing that it was coming from above. I lunged forward to get out of the way and Brulee, scared by the sound started running towards me. I flipped overtop of him and landed hard on my left side. Directly behind us was a dead limb, about 5 inches in diameter laying across the path.
The dogs were fine, so I started assessing myself Left knee: bleeding and swelling. Right wrist: sore to the touch (but by golly, I noticed that I still had a death grip on my phone! lol) We three got ourselves together and started moving back towards the car. Hmm. Back isn’t feeling so hot right now, either.
I didn’t realize at the time how lucky we were to have escaped that falling limb. It surely would have killed one of the dogs if they had been walking 10 paces behind; it would have done some serious damage to me as well.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I felt the effects of the fall – like I’d been in a car accident. I ached everywhere. My knee had a goose-egg lump under the skin and my inner stitches were screaming words that are too foul to type on this blog. Needless to say, I did not apply for that job; I haven’t even been able to go back to yoga this week. So much for proving myself, huh? For a person who normally wouldn’t think about signs, I sure keep getting bombarded by some major happenings this summer.
Have a great weekend, everyone. If you hear any rustling – look up.