Brave Enough To Be Bliss

great to take me and offered to do more, but I knew she was busy, so I tried to get her on her way back home as quickly as possible. Sure, I got by, but what if I didn’t have to? What if I didn’t have to struggle all by myself? What if things didn’t always have to be quite so hard? And then, I knew what I had to do. I had to learn to not only receive help but to ask for it. I made a very conscious decision that it would be the next step in my healing and growth journey. I would learn to ask for help and gratefully receive help. What I didn’t yet realize, however, was that at the very same time, I would also have the life-changing benefit of learning how to fully receive love. I remember talking it all through with Ginger and deciding to sell my home treadmill that had been so important to me while the fitness center was closed during the pandemic. However, I hadn’t really ever liked it as much as the one I had previously, so I decided if after the recovery I wanted to get another one, I could just do that. But in the meantime, I wouldn’t have it staring me in the face each day tempting me to be come depressed because of my lack of mobility. The treadmill was in the room on the lowest level, which I had decided was the safest option. I would just have to accept help for what I needed beyond that level. I thought back to the people who had offered to come help after the December surgery and I made my first ask, then my second and so on until I had the eight-week calendar covered for what would be needed. Then I had many other people who reached out and offered to come by to visit, bring a meal, pick up whatever I needed or drive me wherever I needed to go. It was honestly such a heartwarming experience it still makes me tear up thinking about it. Every time someone said, “Of course, I’ll be there,” and every time I said, “Yes, I would really appreciate that,” instead of my usual, “Oh no, I’ll be fine but appreciate the offer,” it was like my heart opened up a little more and the walls came down another level. I realized it was never about no one being there for me, it was only about me not allowing anyone to be there for me. Those are two very different things. My brain thought it was protecting me from pain, but instead it was ensuring I received a steady stream of it. Through the process of writing the book, I can now see how the few times I shared my desperation with John and he responded with support better prepared me for this experience, as well as Janet’s not taking no for an answer when she wanted to help. I didn’t realize it at the time because of the other stressors, but I do think those were pivotal things that created some small subconscious confidence that I really could ask for and receive help when I needed it. On April 7, the surgeon performed an osteochondral allograft transplantation in my medial femoral condyle and an arthroscopic osteochondral allograft transplantation in my patella. I stayed overnight in the hospital, and a physical therapist showed me how to safely use the walker and crutches the next morning. I wouldn ’ t be able to put any weight on that leg or bend it for those eight long weeks and had to be very careful not to fall. There were many trips up and down those stairs for those who were helping me. Frozen water bottles for the Polar Care machine to ice my knee. They had to move the CPM machine back and forth as I spent two hours, three times a day in that for the first several weeks. Food,

drinks, laundry, physical therapy appointments, tying my shoe before leaving for physical therapy, even setting me up to be able to sit in the sun once in a

while … but most importantly, they provided much

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