Progress, By Another Name

“You’re making progress.”

Am I?  The very word would imply a marked improvement of circumstance or situation, wouldn’t it?  Progress measured in leaps and bounds.  Progress worthy of a teacher’s gold star.  Progress of a civilization changing its culture across millions of acres, hundreds of thousands of lives.  Progress that can really be seen.  Detectable progress.

Since the implant surgery one week ago today (AICD: Automatic Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator) I’ve not felt like doing much other than sit in my trusty recliner and watch television.  Even balancing the checkbook has been too monumental a task.  Not so much for the lack of physical energy, but more so for the lack of ambition.  Maybe the dread of seeing how the loss of my income has strained our lives so much.

Today my husband drove me into town for a nice dinner date.  He’s so good to me, but that’s a post for another day.  At the restaurant of course I had to hobble in with my cane, and he kindly let me out and picked me back up at the front door to minimize my steps.  As we were leaving he asked if there was anywhere else I would like to go.

“Yes,” I said, my voice weak from conversation over dinner.  “I’d love to shopping, but I’m just too tired.”

He sensed my unspoken lament and said, “We’ll get there Baby.”

“Will we?” I asked.

He went on to explain how I’m already better.  How I’ve already made progress.  I suspected he was either exaggerating, trying to soothe my aching heart, or he’s just not been paying attention.  Then he lined it out for me: “Today, for example.  You took a shower, then you put your makeup on, then you even helped me gather the recyclables together. Then boom…we got right into the truck and came to town.  Just a few weeks ago the shower alone would have exhausted you and required two hours of recuperation in your chair.”

Well I’ll be.  He’s right.  Amazing!  I am making progress, and praise be to God it may not be in leaps and bounds, but in my mind and in my tired, oversized heart, it’s blessed, beautiful progress.

 

© Maria R. Conklin and Journey Of A Tired Heart, 2015-2016

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