Surgery, Function & the Brain Day: 15 Post-Op: The Pacing Paradox

This is the fifth in a series of "Surgery, Function, and the Brain" blogs on Maria's recent surgical experience.  Her previous blogs are:

• Starting This Journey
• 72 Hours Post-Op: Protection, Patience & “The Zipper”
• 96 Hours Post-Op: What Is This Thing Called Patience?.
• Day 7 Post-Op: When the Brain Starts Negotiating

Pacing during recovery is one of the most important — and most misunderstood — parts of healing after surgery. In the weeks following an operation, the brain and body are learning how much movement is safe while tissues continue to heal.

Two weeks after surgery, something interesting starts to happen.

You feel… better.

Not fully recovered. Not “back to normal.” But better enough that the brain begins another round of negotiations.

This week marked several small but meaningful milestones.

I returned to seeing clients face-to-face on Wednesday after a week of limited telehealth sessions. That same day I drove for the first time since surgery — 13 days post-op. Only a short drive, about 20 minutes, but still a moment of regained independence.

My car is an automatic and very smooth, but it is also a large Patrol. Getting in required a carefully choreographed hoist into the seat without twisting. Slow, deliberate movement. No heroics.

Later that morning I attended a case conference in Rose Park and walked about a kilometre. It felt good. Not just physically, but psychologically. Movement, conversation, professional engagement — small steps back into normal life.

Thursday was similar. A limited number of clients, followed by a trip to the hairdresser. That evening I slept deeply and woke up with a level of exhaustion and uncomfortableness (but not pain) that reminded me the body is still working hard behind the scenes.

Which brings us to the pacing paradox.

The better you feel, the harder pacing becomes.

When pain reduces (and the brain reminds you that you still haven’t taken any pain meds since Day 5) and function returns, the brain quickly concludes that capacity has also returned. But tissue healing does not follow the same timeline as motivation or mood.

Today I finished work by lunchtime, consciously trying to be kinder to myself. On the way home, however, the ADHD part of my brain had a different plan:

“We need a few things from Woolworths. Also, coffee beans. You have a new coffee machine.”

In I went.

Out I came with four bags of heavy shopping.

Classic.

Fortunately, recovery also involves learning when to be sensible. I called my partner from downstairs and asked him to come help carry everything up.

Then I did something equally important.

I rested.

Ninety minutes asleep in the recliner. A short telehealth session afterwards. And that will be enough for today.

Recovery, it turns out, is less about dramatic milestones and more about managing these small daily negotiations between biology, motivation, and common sense. And my brain of course!

The body may heal at its own pace, but we can’t forget that we need to continue negotiating with our brain.