Good grief! The pain

I had a bad night. Knee and leg pain woke me at irregular intervals, and sleep never held me for more than ninety minutes at a time.

Yes. I did my exercises yesterday.

So why is the pain worse?
Shouldn’t it be receding?

I don’t have enough experience with grief and physical pain to speak with authority—only anecdotally—but even in this short stretch, I’m noticing something familiar:

Neither the journey is linear.

Two days ago, I felt almost normal, like I could move through the day without effort.

This morning, my left leg is carrying a barrel of oil, and the pain level is close to the first post-op week.

I remember this relapse from my grief after Mom died.

I’d be at peace—acceptance, patience with myself, a quiet steadiness. Then, boom!, I’d wake in tears.
Angry.
Sad.
Flustered.

Will PT fix this?

I dread PT today.

When they measure the bend in my knee, it might be less, not more.

Did you do your exercises?

Yes, cross my heart…

Did you fall?

No.

Hmmm…

I did sit for a long time. I felt good so I put in a full day of work… sitting.

And that’s what can trip us up.

We start to feel better and then carry on as if nothing happened—
as if we had never had knee surgery,
as if we’d never lost anyone,
as if we were already “through it.”

I’ve come to understand that grief will be my companion from here on.

I’m hoping this is where recovery diverges.

I chose this surgery to relieve pain.

I’m not interested in pain as a second life-long companion.

So I hold on to this: that PT—painful as it is—will eventually ease the pain that follows me home.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026