A Slow Return

Five weeks ago, I started a little not-really-necessary project in my studio. 

I like to sew, and because I am incapable of throwing anything away, I save the fabric scraps - usually cutting them into strips. I use the strips for a lot of different things: wrapping packets of cards and tying little bags of cookies when I give them away, braiding them into heavier strips, anchoring stray cords, securing plants in the house and yard, etc. I've been sewing for over 20 years, and I have a lot of fabric strips. Sometimes I need a long strip and sometimes I need a short strip, so I decided that I was going to make separate baskets for the strips. 

It was a totally mindless activity, but one which I still found greatly satisfying. I am both tactile and visual, so I really enjoy working with fabric. It was a pretty day in the studio, and I was getting caught up on some podcasts while I rediscovered fabric from years ago.

The next morning, February 22nd, I had a seizure after fainting and suffered three separate trauma-induced compression fractures of my vertebrae. I was in a tremendous amount of pain and spent much of the next few weeks medicated and in bed. Looking through the doorway and seeing my unfinished project was too much for me. I was unable to see that returning to my studio was a "goal". In those early weeks, it felt too much like a taunt, so I closed the door to the studio. 

During a four-week period, I had met with an Orthopedic Neurosurgeon, three different spine specialists, Dr Spinks three times, and an internal medicine doctor. I had four different sets of x-rays, one MRI, and I was on six different medications. I am wearing a fitted corset back brace that weighs 8 pounds while my own weight is down 12 pounds. It had been a rough four weeks but early this week, I opened the studio door. 

I still don't feel quite strong enough to resume my project but this past Tuesday morning, I opened the studio door.  And right now, I'll take that.