Day 21 Post-Op: Movement as Medicine, Releasing the Armor, and Finding Trust Again
On Thursday, my friend Kate came over to make smoothies and get me out the door for a walk.
Kate is a fellow yogi with a deep, grounded understanding of Ayurveda. She carries an unwavering trust in her ability to listen to and care for her body. When we stepped out onto the pavement, out of pure habit we set off at a faster clip than the more cautious pace I had maintained for the past three weeks. In my mind, I made an instant choice: I decided to lean into the stride and let myself stretch a little with the pace.
That shift brought an immediate realization about how I have been holding myself.
“Carefully” is an understatement. When you endure an invasive surgery, the nervous system adopts a protective stance by curling inward. I had been completely unable to trust the rest of my body: my legs, arms, chest, and upper back. My posture simply was not straight or upright. I was guarding my abdomen because of the incision and the strange, numb, yet strangely sensitive sensations across my front. I was hesitant about engaging my traps, or broadening my collarbones. I was keeping my arms close to my ribs, and measuring every step with cautious calculation.
That is not how I inhabit the world. Moving that way makes me feel fragile and insecure.
Inside my own head, the loop kept spinning: Am I actually fragile? How fragile am I right now? How cautious do I really need to be?
I have not yet seen a physical therapist to ask these questions, and my next major post-op evaluation is still weeks away. Those were all my silent, interior questions. But what I actually said out loud to Kate as we began to walk was direct:
“In your opinion, what do you think about me letting go of this protective stance and stride? I am afraid to engage my muscles, afraid to take deep, full breaths, pull my shoulders back, or engage my upper back. I am not sure if I can safely stretch my hips and shoulders.”
Kate did not pause to analyze. Her response was immediate and automatic:
“Trust your body, Erin. You can absolutely trust your body.”
We stopped right there on the sidewalk.
“Gently engage your abs,” she told me. “Open your chest, and take a deep breath.”
I stood there, drew breath deep into my lungs, and let my shoulders drop. For the first time in weeks, I began to feel my entire body again instead of just the site of the incision.
The true breakthrough was the certainty in the statement: Trust your body.
Of course caution is appropriate. The sensations inside my torso are completely new and unfamiliar, and it is natural to fear that challenging myself might damage something. It is a normal response to an invasive, structural change. Yet among everything I know in this life, my physical body is the one thing I know intimately. I have spent decades trusting my body, challenging its strength, and stamina.
Most importantly, I had forgotten the deliberate preparation that preceded this operation. The months leading up to surgery were dedicated to my health from the inside out, building strength and resilience so that I would have the foundation to endure this exact recovery.
I need to remember that truth. And as we began to walk, I remembered.
That realization marks a definitive turning point in this journey. Now that the acute, post-op fog has cleared, I am choosing to move with deliberate strength and posture, while adhering to my bending, lifting, and twisting restrictions one hundred percent of the time. I have reconnected to my yoga practice through intentional pranayama, gentle neck and head mobility, and actively firing the muscles in my arms and legs that are entirely safe to use.
The primary challenge right now is simply the clock: waiting for the days to pass, so that medical milestones can safely unlock the next phase of movement. I managed to get an early referral to physical therapy, and my focus is to get my questions answered and build a base of knowledge before we board the plane for Costa Rica in November.
In the meantime, this middle corridor remains the greatest challenge for my mind. The physical energy is back, and because I have always regulated my brain through intentional movement, my mind is struggling against the current boundaries. It stirs up heavy, swinging emotions that rise and fall with the un-announced. But the tension and holding is easing up, my chest is open, and step by step, I am learning how to trust my body again.