This may not be true for everyone, but recovery brings me back to a childlike place. Since the surgery, I’ve been living in the house I grew up in. I am extraordinarily grateful for my parents' tenderness and generosity, and there’s no doubting we are close, but still this contrasts with my usual life in NYC, and the usual degree to which I make my own choices.
There’s no doubting that the body’s limitations can press rewind on one’s independence. For awhile, I was unable to lift anything or sit up without help. What this does to mind and behavior varies from person to person. Some rebel against it. Some take the opportunity to relish the coddling. Some grow frustrated. Some, especially those who live with chronic conditions, adapt their lives over the long-term. It’s a challenge in a multitude of ways, and as always, how one responds to challenges can teach her about herself.
These pjs were a gift from my mom, waiting for me on my childhood bed when I came home from the hospital. I’m not sure if she thought about how reminiscent they are of my favorite pjs as a kid (which had stars and clouds, and which I called my “Neverending Story pajamas”, probably because I imagined myself perched on Falkor’s back, flying through those very clouds).
P.S. Audrey, my own little Falkor (sort of), sends her regards.
See the resemblance?