A friend is recovering from a knee replacement.  Doctors and physical therapists had warned her that rehab would be a full time job. But she is completely shocked to find that it is indeed a full time job.

Somehow she reinterpreted "full time" to mean "with focused attention". She was prepared to do that. But a regime of ten hours a day is squeezing out all of the enjoyments that used to comprise her daily life.

Exercises, broken down into methodical steps, take up the bulk of her waking hours. Admittedly she is aiming for the high end of the recommended number of repetitions, but she had an active life before, and has set her sights on an active life again. So she slogs. 

She did not come to surgery lightly. Pain has been building for years, and cortisone shots can only mask it for so long. Scar tissue had made her a slave to her knee, rather than her knee serving her. Perhaps she is anticipating the time when she can stop thinking about her knee and get back to being supported by it. Maybe there will come a time when she will go a whole week without remembering the pain.

I knew a couple whose marriage had blown out. Poor choices disabled their relationship. They searched for people who knew the way to replace old patterns. But they were stunned that recovery was a full time job. It was expensive, as they gave up their own self image and submitted themselves to the long haul of recovery. Their jobs and social life got sidelined. People told them it would be labor intensive. Burdensome. Consuming. But it was also humiliating. Endless. 

The pain in their relationship had been increasing for years, and they had become slaves to destructive behaviors. 

After slamming into a wall, they knew there had to be a change. They picked up the broken pieces and stepped into the spiraling climb toward healing. 

Their marriage had once been vibrant, and they want it to be again. Perhaps they are hoping for a time when they can go a whole week without remembering how hard it was. 

I am praying for that with them.