Recovery First: A Full Stop

I’m having another “full stop”, provided by my left foot.

After surgery last week, I was instructed to stay horizontal, with my leg elevated above my heart, for two weeks to give the tissues time to heal and keep the swelling down. Secretly, knowing it was coming, I was looking forward to the enforced rest. Stepping away from my busy life and practice scared me far more than lying in bed. As it turns out, the world manages perfectly well without me. It’s me who doesn’t manage quite so well without the world!

Being still is hard. Being dependent is harder.

You might think I’d have the hang of this after three previous surgeries with the same recovery protocol. I’m a slow learner, it seems. But if there’s one thing I would die on the mountain for, it’s Recovery First.

My difficulty isn’t following the instructions. It’s noticing how much I benefit from a slower pace and knowing I need to take some of that with me when I’m back in action. Changing my pattern of going full tilt somehow scares me.

This recovery hasn’t all been peaceful. After surgery, I had escalating pain, bladder problems, headaches and a digestive tract that seemed to have gone into hibernation. I struggled to relax and then slept for much of three days.

My mind thought I should be taking this in my stride. My body clearly needed more time and care than I had expected. The original fall off the mountain was almost five years ago, but here I was, recovering from another operation on the same foot.

Rest helped. So did medication and the doctors who helped me through it. Responding to what I needed, and accepting help, gave me a way forward. Now I’m feeling much more open and energised.

I have time right now to notice when I become tense or unsettled, and to give myself a chance to settle as the day goes by. I can have a nap when I’m tired, and that is delicious. I can respond when my body first murmurs, instead of waiting until its calls become urgent before I eat, drink, go to the bathroom or take off an extra layer of clothing.

I have time to hear the rain bird singing. To see the clouds build and hear the rain when it falls, appreciating being warm and dry inside.

A week into lying here, I’m reminded why Recovery First matters so much—and how easily its place in everyday life can slip.

Now, what about you? What does your recovery need today?

You don’t have to wait for a full stop to give your needs some attention. Begin where you are, with the time, energy and choices available to you.

Have a glass of water. Step outside and feel some sun on your face. Move if movement helps you. Rest if you need rest. Ask for help with something you’ve been trying to manage alone. Perhaps it’s time for a difficult conversation, or to attend to something you keep putting off.

Recovery First will look different on different days. Start by checking in, rather than assuming that what helped yesterday is what you need today.

You may recognise the discomfort of slowing down. Perhaps being busy feels reassuring, even when you’re exhausted. Perhaps needing help is hard, or you worry about letting people down. Notice that too. Changing a familiar pattern can feel uncomfortable, even when you know it would help.

Bring some curiosity to your own experience.

The tension you work through. The tiredness you postpone attending to. The tears that arrive when there is finally a quiet moment. These deserve attention, even when you don’t immediately understand them.

You don’t need to understand every feeling or sensation before you can respond with care. Eat if you’ve missed a meal. Take a break. Tell someone you’re struggling. Seek professional help when you need it.

When you’re living with pain, anxiety, depression or fatigue, attending to yourself can feel like one more thing you haven’t got the energy for. Especially if you’ve tried so much already. Start small enough that you can actually do it.

Your circumstances matter. You may have very little time, money, support or freedom to change things. Your recovery needs still deserve a place in the day. Look for one choice you can make and take it.

Suffering can leave you feeling helpless. Having even a small say in what happens next matters. You may not be able to choose how you feel today, but you can begin to find ways to support yourself through it. Asking for help is one of those choices.

That is Recovery First: noticing what needs care and allowing that information to change what you do. Resting. Making space for a feeling. Changing a plan. Letting someone support you.

For the next week, put your own recovery on the daily agenda.

Pause each day and ask yourself: “What do I need, and what can I do about it today?” Then act on one thing. Give it a place before everything else is done, because everything else rarely is.

Notice what happens. Perhaps you feel more energised or enjoy something more. Perhaps you notice your tiredness sooner, ask for help or feel less at odds with yourself. Those changes count too.

You are worth the time and care. Begin today, and please share what you discover.