If you read my blog, well…ever...you know I love to compare things
and find the shared meaning. Dang if this one doesn't work perfectly.
Starting about ten years ago, I'd limp into a podiatrist or
orthopedic surgeon's office every couple of years to have someone, anyone, look
at my foot and get me some relief from the pain in the ball of it. For nine of
those years, they said they weren't quite sure what was wrong with it--probably
a little overuse, probably a little arthritis, but try wearing sensible shoes,
wearing orthotic shoe inserts, taking ibuprofen, blah, blah, blah.
If that isn't a metaphor for living with some undefined, and
occasionally painful, issue in your relationship, I'm not sure what is.
Last year, I started walking and hiking a lot more than usual.
Over time, that same aggravated area got even more painful, even more swollen,
even more red, and took even more time to return to normal after using
it.
I found some possible answers for my foot issue online and sought
out a specialist. Within a short time after looking at my X-rays and
manipulating my toe joints, he had an answer. This foot needed surgery. It
wasn't like I needed the procedure yesterday, but I needed it soon or the joint
would be irreparable, stiff, and unmoving. It would cause daily, low-level
irritation.
Seriously, I'm not even going to spell out how that translates
to relationship stuff because it's SO OBVIOUS.
Enter the surgery. I got a synthetic cartilage implant (e.g.
therapeutic intervention) and a bone realignment (e.g. emotional insight!).
I went into it perfectly ambulatory and functioning well enough. I
came out of it with a blue cast on my foot, instructions to take five different
medications on some schedule that my post-anesthesia brain couldn't track, a
pair of crutches, a scooter, a temporary disabled parking pass, and a lot of
unknowns. Like, how was I going to navigate midnight bathroom breaks? How
quickly could I go back to work? How much was it going to hurt after the meds
wore off? Would I gain weight or muscle?
So many unknowns. A drastic change.
Then the pain and the gravity of what I'd done set in and, much
like the arc of perceived therapeutic benefit dips after the first few sessions,
my certainty about the decision to have surgery waned after day five. I hated
the crutches. I hated the scooter almost more. I hated the rubber leg condom I
had to carefully pull over my heavy and sore foot. I hated standing on my good
leg for almost everything. I hated working up a tremendous sweat just trying to
get dressed or undressed. I hated trying to remember where to put my crutches
so they were handy while I transitioned from the scooter. I HATED trying to get
into the garage and pack things in my car. Hop, hop, hop, hop, hop, hop,
hop.
Regarding couples therapy, one of a handful of things happens when
the couple hits that point in their work. They outright quit ("That
therapist didn't know anything. What a waste."). They take a break
("I have a work conference come up and we're going to need to skip the
next few weeks.").
And, sometimes, they stick it out, cry, get angry, and push
through the tough questions they have to ask themselves and each other. They
start to trust the process and do their at-home work.
Okay, with foot surgery, you don't have a lot of options to quit
or fade away. But they trust is hard to come by...
Day 15: There's no way my incision will ever be anything but a
crumpled, scabby eyesore. I'll never bend my toe again--OMG SOMETHING MUST HAVE
GONE TERRIBLY WRONG!
Day 32: I think I'll go dancing, post-surgical boot and all. I
can't wait until day 42 when I can wear a real shoe again! Life is great! What
hiking trips can we take this summer?
ALL of this is to say that the process of getting a foot surgery
that is needed, but not critically so, during a time that is somewhat less
inconvenient than other times (that's to say, no time was convenient to be off
my foot for four weeks), depicts crazy-well the process of seeking help for a
relationship:
Something's off, but no one's having an affair yet; it's really
hard to fit counseling sessions into
work/school/extracurriculars/travel/self-care time/gym workouts, etc.
But in the end...what if getting help was worth it? What if things get much better?
I'll let know about the foot surgery in two more weeks or so. As
for working on your relationship? That's up to you to decide. :-)
P.s. Don’t forget—feet work independently, but they work best in
relationship with the other foot, right?
