Today is first anniversary that I was forced into an unexpected retirement called disability. I haven’t yet reached my 40th and already feel like I’m 85 with what my late grandfather said was “one foot into the grave and another on a banana peel”. But that’s life I suppose – no matter what we have planned for, it could be shaken upside down and inside out like a sadistic magic 8 ball or snow globe that’s nothing but a scenic and detailed horror scene.
I find irony in the stories people read about people overcome great obstacles and they find joy and peace at the end of the tunnel. Maybe I’m not that lucky, or just more likely I’m stuck in a vicious cycle of denial and anger in the infamous “5 Stages of Grief”.
Seeing that I have nothing but time on my hands, I’ve had taken a long hard look at my life before life as I know it was taken away and replaced with nothing but physical pain that is nothing like anything I’ve ever had to endure this beast day after day, and I can’t help but mourn and miss my previous life that I will never have again.
In the middle of all of this mayhem, I week after week filled my countless prescriptions, attended my weekly physical and counseling sessions, and still find myself lost in a world that once was and never will be again. Well at least I can pretend to have a drink in honor of surviving the first year.