Hearing the Kids Outside the Window: Recovery Then and Now

 When I was six years old, I was out of school for two weeks with something called the Echo Virus. I remember lying in my bedroom, hearing the neighborhood kids playing outside, laughing and running, and wanting so badly to be out there with them.

My mother would bring my meals upstairs on a tray. I picked at my food. Every day my sister brought home my homework from school. It was a long, boring existence for a six‑year‑old who wanted nothing more than to be part of the action.

Here I am all these years later, two weeks after a knee replacement, and I find myself in a strangely familiar place.

I’m inside again.

I read. I write. I watch the Olympics and the occasional movie. I do my exercises. I ice. I elevate. I rest. I repeat.

And just like that six‑year‑old, I can hear life going on without me.

The Impatience of Healing

This time, I understand what’s happening. I know I’ve had major surgery. I understand that bone healing takes months. Soft tissues need time to settle. Inflammation doesn’t disappear on command.

And yet, there’s a part of me that wants to push recovery into two weeks instead of the months they say it will take.

I want to hurry it along. I want to check the box. I want to be “back.”

But biology doesn’t negotiate.

When Recovery Feels Like Childhood

What surprises me most is not the pain or the stiffness. It’s the emotional echo.

That same feeling of being sidelined. That same impatience. That same longing to be where the action is.

As a child, I didn’t understand why I had to wait. I just knew I didn’t like it.

As an adult, I understand the science of healing — but I still don’t like waiting.

There is something humbling about needing help again. About relying on others. About accepting that progress will come in increments, not leaps.

The Shift That Will Come

If I look back at that six‑year‑old, I know something she didn’t know then: she would recover. She would go back outside. She would rejoin the world.

This season is no different.

Two weeks after knee replacement is still early. It is the “inside phase.” The swelling phase. The repetition phase. The slow and steady phase.

There will be a shift. Not overnight. Not dramatically. But gradually.

A little less swelling. A little more bend (uggg this part is so hard). A little more confidence.

And I hope,
one day, without noticing exactly when it happened, I’ll be back outside again.

Living the Lesson

As someone who writes about resilience and hope in Caitlin’s Star, I’m reminded that growth doesn’t always feel inspiring while it’s happening. Sometimes it feels boring. Frustrating. Confining.

But healing — whether at six years old or decades later — still requires patience.

The kids are playing outside the window.

And this time, I know I’ll join them again.