Some weeks the body really reminds you who’s in charge.
A few weeks ago I injured my foot while rowing. The pain was significant enough that it was initially treated as a fracture and I was placed in a moon boot and told to rest. A CT scan later showed there was no fracture, but the pain remained intense so the advice was still to protect it and take strong painkillers. I was vulnerable and did what I was told, but the medication was only making my nerve pain worse, something my body already knows far too well after my stroke.
My physio gently reminded me of something I have learned many times over the past twenty years: movement matters. If we stop moving, everything else in the body begins to compensate. Muscles tighten, posture shifts and pain spreads.
Because the pain in my foot seemed disproportionate, we decided to investigate further before pushing too hard with rehabilitation. An MRI was organised, which became slightly complicated due to the metal clips in my skull from my craniotomy. There was genuine concern about whether I was compatible with the MRI machine, and at one point someone joked that we needed to be sure I wouldn’t “blow up the hospital.” Eventually I was referred to Cabrini where they could safely scan me, although it meant hundreds of dollars out of pocket.
Last week felt like a full-time job of medical appointments, often seeing two specialists a day. The MRI eventually showed that the issue was bursitis which is inflammation near a small bone under my big toe. Nothing dramatic, but very painful and because I had been walking differently and wearing a moon boot, my whole body had been thrown out of alignment and my nerve pain had flared significantly.
The solution was surprisingly simple: move again. I stopped the medications, came out of the moon boot, strapped the foot instead and started gently moving. It didn’t take long to notice things begin to settle.
Of course, life didn’t stop there. In the middle of all this I needed a biopsy on my nose (thankfully benign), which left me with stitches, and my dog developed an ear infection that resulted in a $1000 vet bill. By the end of the week the emotional and financial toll of everything felt heavy. Pain has a way of creating a cloud that starts to dictate your every move, and I could feel the frustration beginning to build.
Over the weekend I made a simple decision. After twenty years living in this body, I know that medication rarely fixes things for me. One thing I am sure of is that movement always helps.
So I showed up to my yoga mat with a bandaged nose, a strapped foot and looking like I had been in a minor accident. I quietly set up my mat at the back of the class and just stretched.
It wasn’t about pushing through pain. It was about making space for it.
Recovery, even twenty years after a stroke, is still about listening to your body and trusting what you know to be true. When pain and fatigue are present, it’s easy to resist it all. But sometimes the best thing we can do is lean in gently, keep moving and trust that our bodies know the way forward.
How can you lean in gently to the things that stop you in your life? How can you just show up amid the discomfort?