Day 1

Day 1 is hard. The first day after something has happened, when you’re not just reacting to a situation as it unfolds, when you realise that life goes on around you and you are expected to start returning to some sort of “normal”. At this point you can have no idea what your recovery will look like or how long it might take – it can feel like there is a very long road ahead, or that you’d give anything to be on a road of any kind but right now you’re in a hole somewhere and don’t know how to get out.

The day I got home from hospital was harder than the day of my operation. Being in hospital sucked, but I was fully expected to focus on myself and what I had been through, to use the call button to ask someone to help me move or to give me more pain medication, and all the staff talked to me about was my blood pressure, my wounds, my discharge plan. Not having to think about anything – or anyone – else for a while was nice. I expected that when I stepped through my front door I would feel relief, but instead I was annoyed that everything was just the same as when I left; I didn’t feel the same. How was I supposed to sit on the sofa and watch TV with my husband just like we had before all this had happened? How was I supposed to do things which no longer felt interesting or important? I was irritable and snappy and my husband, who had been the calm one through it all so far, broke down in tears and said he was so scared that this would change us as a couple. We realised that we had both expected returning home to be the end of this awful journey, when in fact it was the start of a rough recovery – physically, for me, but emotionally for both of us. I so desperately wanted to feel differently from how I did right then, and had no idea how to make that happen.

I have been so blessed with friends and family who gave me time and didn’t expect me to be fine after a few days, who said “I’m so sorry, this must be so hard” rather than giving advice, who brought meals and sat with me for as long as I felt able to have company, who let me know that I wasn’t alone. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve also had to deal with people saying some pretty insensitive things or trying to make me see the silver lining they think they’ve found, but overall I have received amazing support.

So where does reading fit in? I’ve always loved to read, it has always been a joy and a comfort to me, but this new experience has got me thinking about why this is in a different way. Whether it be the act of reading that helps stimulate a bored brain, being able to escape into someone else’s world, or being able to discuss your favourite reads with others to feel connected again, books can help us in so many ways. I want to share my experiences of how reading has helped me, hear from others about their experiences, and share book recommendations because readers love growing their TBR pile. Whether it was the content of a book that really spoke to you in a difficult time, or a book that was nothing to do with your circumstances but was just the right mix of whatever to give you some enjoyment, I would love to hear how reading has been a part of your recoveries.

Day 1 of starting this blog is hard. I don’t know how it will feel to share my experiences, or whether anyone else will be interested in or comforted by what I have to say. But I am hopeful that it won’t be something I do alone. When I signed up for this blog, the front page template provides you with suggested titles, quotes, pictures etc. which I’m sure 99% of people replace immediately – however, this one seems apt. Good company has made my journey bearable, and that includes authors and fictional companions.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton