Milestones

This week feels a little different. Like a lot of things are coming together and maybe next steps are becoming possible.

Because it’s me, I remain most excited about tomorrow’s haircut. But that’s probably far from the most significant step. First off, I got my first dose of vaccine on Tuesday. So far I’ve noticed no complications, aside from the fact that, the way I understand the calendar, I won’t be fully vaccinated until Friday the 13th (in August), which seems like a weird coincidence that I’m just not going to overthink.

I will also meet with Dr. Kehrer on Thursday to start the final sessions in my therapy, which will be bittersweet, but it’s at least motion in a direction.

And, as of this weekend, I’ve stopped wearing compression stockings full-time.

These fashion accessories were thrust upon me way back in 2016 after I had my first embolism. I had to wear them on any day when I was sitting for a long time, ie working or traveling. By the time the new embolism struck last year, I had reduced my time wearing them exclusively to time working or car trips of more than an hour. I had grown so lax in my mind that we were several months into the pandemic when Christina pointed out that even if I was only sitting around the house doing my job, it still counted as ‘sitting at work’ and I should probably have been wearing my stockings that whole time too. Oops.

Anyways, the new rules after the new embolism required six straight months of the stockings, taking them off only for showers. You get used to them. They’re billed as being like a second skin and, honestly, now that I get whole days without them, I can’t say that I notice their absence particularly. The main thrill is skipping the nuisance of putting them on.

That said, it is nice not to have them, especially as it gets warmer. When I only had to wear a stocking on one leg, as was the case from 2016 to 2020, I didn’t let it bother me. I walked all over the place in shorts with one stockinged leg. Somehow, having both legs in stockings made me self-conscious. I’ve caught myself more than once in the last month or so turning about as I’m about to leave the house in shorts and opting for jeans instead. Somehow, letting the world know I have both legs in compression stockings is a step I’m not in the mood to take. So – yay – now I’m free of that for my free hours.

It feels like a slow return to normal. Then again, every time I start thinking about getting back to normal, I find myself asking what on Earth that even means any more. The normal before Colin was born? Before he was diagnosed with cancer? Before he relapsed? None of those times are coming back, so it’s time for a new normal. It’s going to mean meeting new people in new situations and there are going to be those awkward moments where I have to say “Oh, I HAD three kids.” I don’t want to say that I’m not looking forward to it. It would be a lie to say I’m not getting sick of lockdown. But it’s going to be scary negotiating this new post-Colin world we barely got to know before we were all sent home to hide from the virus. But all you can do is take it a step at a time and take whatever little victories you get.