My Real Rehabilitation ーAugust 10, (MON),2026, Reiwa8
Today, I came home from rehabilitation and was so tired that I slept in the afternoon. After taking a bath and having dinner, I remembered that today is the anniversary of the atomic bombing of Nagasaki.
Tonight, I found myself thinking about my body once again.
This fracture has been completely different from any fracture I have experienced before.
When I was about ten years old, I fractured a bone in my hand. My mother was a judo therapist, so she treated me herself. I seem to remember that my hand was simply supported with a splint or something similar, and it healed in about a month.
A few years ago, I developed severe pain in my chest after swimming 1,000 meters of breaststroke. I went to an emergency department on a Saturday and had an X-ray after waiting for about three hours. The doctor told me that the third thoracic vertebra had become bent into a C shape and that I had a compression fracture.
At first, I did not understand what that meant. When I asked, "What does that mean?", the doctor simply said, "It means you have a fracture."
It was a tremendous shock.
That experience gradually led me to suspect that I might have osteoporosis. When I finally had my bone density measured, I learned that my bones were not as strong as I had believed.
Until then, I had thought my bones were strong.
When I was younger, I had once been told, "Your bones are good," after having my bone density measured. I also exercised a great deal. I swam, did Zumba, and practiced belly dancing. I believed that because I was so physically active, osteoporosis could not possibly happen to me.
I think I was overconfident.
I knew, as general knowledge, that women's bone density decreases after menopause. But I could not connect that fact with my own body.
The body changes with age.
If I had been able to look at my own body more objectively, perhaps I could have prevented some of what happened. I now realize that I had a certain arrogance about my physical strength.
Today, because I have osteoporosis, I drink 200 milliliters of milk every day, even though I dislike milk. I call it my little "training in discipline."
And then, in June of this year, I fractured the upper part of my left humerus, very close to the shoulder. It was a complicated fracture. Because my bones were fragile, the bone had broken into several pieces. I underwent surgery, and the bone was fixed with a titanium plate and several screws.
The bone has apparently healed.
But my body has not yet returned to what it was.
My previous fractures were completely different. Once the bone was immobilized and healed, that was more or less the end of the treatment.
This time, it is different.
My arm was immobilized for only about two or three weeks, but what came afterward has been much harder.
I cannot move my arm as I want. My elbow does not fully straighten. Certain movements cause severe pain. The joint capsule and the tissues around the shoulder have become stiff, and there may also be adhesions.
For the first time in my life, I began to ask myself:
What exactly is rehabilitation?
Does rehabilitation mean restoring the body completely to the way it was before?
Or does it mean that, even if the body cannot return completely to its former condition, we gradually recover as much function as possible and move closer to what we once had?
The rehabilitation doctor can touch my shoulder and arm and say, "This hurts here, doesn't it?" or "You cannot do this movement, can you?"
And he is right.
I am amazed by this.
I think it is because rehabilitation doctors understand how the body is constructed and how the joints, muscles, joint capsule, and surrounding tissues work together. They can feel things that I cannot recognize myself.
That is both fascinating and reassuring.
During my previous rehabilitation session, I may have moved too much because I was happy that my range of motion was improving. Afterward, however, my body became extremely heavy and the pain increased. I became unable to do exercises that I had previously been able to do.
Today, the doctor told me that I should avoid large movements, especially moving my arm widely outward for the time being. Instead, I should concentrate on small movements, such as placing my left hand gently on my abdomen.
"Not moving enough can make the joint stiff. But moving too much can also cause pain."
Perhaps rehabilitation means finding the right balance between these two.
I have also heard about someone living at the same facility as me who underwent surgery after fractures of both the right arm and right leg, then stayed at Dogo Onsen Hospital for several months of inpatient rehabilitation. Apparently, the person improved greatly and is now able to live normally.
That made me wonder whether inpatient rehabilitation might also be an option for me.
At present, I receive outpatient rehabilitation about once a week. I wonder whether that is enough for my recovery, or whether intensive inpatient rehabilitation might be more appropriate.
I do not know the answer yet.
But I now feel that I should not simply leave questions about my body unanswered.
I also realize something else.
Until now, I would sometimes swim and then take two or even three exercise classes afterward. Even when I was completely exhausted, I would think, "I am fine. I can do this."
I think I am going to say goodbye, little by little, to that version of myself.
At the age of 68, I am beginning to understand that there is a limit to how much my body can do in a single day.
That does not mean that I have become incapable of doing things because I am old.
It means that my body has its own limits now, and I need to understand those limits and then discover what I can still do.
When my doctors eventually tell me that I can exercise again, I may begin with slow walking in the pool. I may try a gentle yoga class that does not require much use of my arms.
I do not know whether that will be in October, November, or even later.
And if one day I can swim again, perhaps I will try to make the butterfly stroke my goal.
My rehabilitation doctor told me, "In theory, it will be difficult. But you can still make it your goal."
I think that is enough.
I do not have to become exactly the person I was before.
Instead, I can discover how far I can go with the body I have now.
Perhaps that is what real rehabilitation means to me.
Not taking my body for granted.
But also not being unnecessarily afraid of it.
Listening to my body, learning how it works, and looking objectively at what I can and cannot do.
From now on, I want to build a new relationship with my body in this way.
The bone has healed.
But my real rehabilitation has only just begun.
#Rehabilitation
#HumerusFracture
#Osteoporosis
#Being68
#ListeningToMyBody
#AgingAndHealth
#UnderstandingMyBody
#Swimming
#MyNextChapter
