To celebrate, I made a batch of my favorite grain-free, dairy-free chocolate chip cookies.

I actually loved PT, and will miss it, but I know I now have all the tools and exercises I need in my arsenal to stay healthy and get strong.

My advice to anyone contemplating (or more likely, dreading) any kind of surgery you might need: do it. I limped around on my bad foot, in terrible pain, for almost a year. I struggled. I cried. Still, I denied it… until I couldn’t any longer.

The road to recovery is long, and can be brutal at times, but a life without pain is worth every minute it takes.

Man, had I missed it.

Yesterday was my first time there since before my foot surgery in November. I’m still walking in my boot — should be my last week of it! — but it was the first day I didn’t need my crutch. I had been leaning on it for support and safety because I just didn’t have the strength or energy to walk on my own. But I do now! Progress is a beautiful thing.

And so is the grocery store. We really take so much for granted everyday and of course you don’t realize whatcha got til it’s gone. But as people whizzed by me yesterday, in a rush to grab what they needed and get the hell outta there, I took my time. I smelled each green. I read each label. I poured over all the choices and took in the beauty and wonder that is each aisle of Whole Foods. It was glorious.

Brian came with me to mark — and celebrate — my return to the grocery store. Or maybe he’s just happy he doesn’t have to try and figure out which manuka honey to buy anymore. Poor guy, taking me shopping via Facetime for eight weeks; he’s a saint.

I’m glad I could finally cook for him again last night. It felt like the first time I ever cooked for him, three years ago, on Valentine’s Day 2012. I was a little nervous, but very excited. Before we ate I thanked him for everything he’s done for me these past two months, including helping me cook the dinner. I still need some help in the kitchen — lifting heavy pots, reaching for things up high on shelves — but it is what it is. I’m doing what I can. I’m making progress! And even if I’m not 100%, it still feels damn good to be back.

Okay, one foot and one boot, but let’s not split hairs. It’s progress! Progress that I’ve been waiting a long time for — to stand up straight without the help of a crutch, a husband, or a scooter. I’m trying to celebrate the small steps towards recovery (no pun intended) but I’m also a bit overwhelmed thinking about the long road I still have ahead of me.

I don’t just have to re-learn how to actually walk, I also have to re-learn how not to be scared to walk. I had been walking in fear for so long — at how bad the pain would be each time I took a step — that I now need to learn that it’s not going to hurt. That I’m not going do something to hurt myself. That I can and should just… walk.

It’s just another test in a series of tests I’ve faced these past few months. I’ve learned a lot about myself, but I’ve also noticed something — that we only talk publicly about the good days. All you see on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram are the celebratory moments. Like the day I came back to work on my scooter and felt so triumphant after doing my first traffic report kneeling on the upside down trash can. Or when I found a comfy enough spot on my brother’s couch when we were celebrating Chanukkah to take a cute shot of me and Brian’s ugly Eagles sweaters.

But the road to recovery isn’t just shaped by the moments of progress. I want to remember and document the trying times too, because I think it’ll make me appreciate the joyous moments even more so.

When the doctor told me he could fix me and that I would once again, one day, walk again without pain: I cried. I was relieved.

When the nurses got me all prepped and ready for surgery and I sat there waiting to be called in: I cried. I was nervous.

When I woke up on my couch the morning after surgery and realized the anesthesia had worn off: I cried. I was in pain.

When Brian pushed me to the bathroom on a swivel desk chair for what felt like the hundredth time: I cried. I was helpless.

When I left the house for the first time to go for my follow-up appointment with the doctor, and I realized I didn’t have enough strength to use crutches: I cried. I was exhausted.

When I fell getting out of the shower, landed straddling the lip of the bathtub, and Brian had to help me up: I cried. I was humiliated.

When I walked around our apartment yesterday for the first time since November, I felt like a scared, clumsy baby calf learning to walk for the first time. I crashed on the couch after and curled up in a ball. Brian snuggled up behind me and gave me a speech about how far I’ve come and how much better off I’ll be after the foot heals. I cried. I was grateful; I am loved.

Long story, short: my rheumatoid arthritis (RA) got between two bones in my foot and wore away all the cartilage to the point that the two bones were rubbing against each other. I had been limping on my foot for about a year, sometimes barely noticing the pain. But when the pain went from bad to worse and I lost (almost) all function in the foot, I went to see Dr. Hubbard, Chief of the Foot and Ankle Service at Mount Sinai Beth Israel. He told me he could fix me, and two short weeks later I was on his surgical table, getting those two guys put in place so I could once again walk painlessly. (I hate to sound like surgery is no big deal, but three years ago I had a C1-C2 fusion surgery on my neck, also with titanium screws, and also because of my RA, which made me a lot more comfortable going into this one.) Once the joint has healed, the screws will keep the bones away from each other, while still allowing it to function as a “normal” foot.

It’s now been three weeks since foot surgery, and tomorrow, it’s time to go back to work. I have been so nervous about how I would get around, how I would open doors, how I would have enough energy to make it through the day. And then yesterday I went outside by myself for the first time in a month — using the life-saving knee scooter that Brian bought me — and I figured out how I would do it.

First there was the guy a block from our building who pulled his truck over, hopped out, and came over to fix the steering on my scooter. Then there was the lady at the corner of 12th and 5th who saw me stumble and asked where I was going, because she wanted to make sure I got there safe. And how about the guy at the corner of Charles and 7th Avenue who asked if he could please drive me home? (I politely declined.)

The answer is: I wouldn’t have to worry about doing any of the things I’ve been worrying about, because strangers would help me. Total strangers. And that was just three of them! Others helped simply by smiling, acknowledging that I was having a little bit of a hard time. It’s one of the many reasons I love New York. These people didn’t want anything in return; they did it out of the goodness of their hearts.

So my worrying, like most worrying, was for naught.

I’ve still got a long road to recovery — another week in the hard cast, six weeks or so in a boot — but at least now I can focus all of my energy on healing and getting back to a healthy, strong place — a healthier, stronger place than I was pre-bionic foot. I want to keep my RA at bay with good food, fresh food, real food, and lots of herbal supplements and vitamins. And when I need, like I did with the strangers yesterday, I’ll lean on western medicine for help. I’m hoping that won’t be often (or at all), but I can only do the best I can. Which is where TV Dinner comes in. As soon as I am back on my feet I plan to get back in the kitchen and cook lots of new recipes… ones that bring wellness and strength to my body. And in the meantime, in the coming weeks, I’ll share some recipes that I cooked up before surgery.

Have any questions about a subtalar fusion, my doctor, medicines, supplements, or RA in general? Ask away — either in the comments below or click here to send me an email. I respond to every single one.