At Last - Back in my own Bed

When this whole ordeal first began, three of my friends met me for dinner and started going down a check list of things I would need for my recovery period. Funny - I hadn't even "gone there" in my own mind. I was quite the denial queen thinking everything would just work out.

One friend insisted I get a "day bed" for my first floor since there would be no way I could do stairs, at least not for a while. I resisted this idea, thinking it will just make my home seem more like Shady Pines than a homey residence. My other friends agreed this would be a great idea because I can sleep on the first floor where everything else is located, including a bathroom. Well, the day bed has been my primary bed since the date of the surgery (9/16/09) with my faithful partner, Lucy, sleeping on the living room couch, right around the corner from me, in case I need anything. What I have needed was sleeping with her back upstairs in our nice queen bed with the flannel sheets, keeping each other warm!

Nearly four weeks later, with me feeling more and more confident about going out for short trips, navigating stairs a few at a time with my walker or crutches, and noticing that my once painful left arm/forearm is much stronger now, I realized I was ready to do the ole "going up the stairs on your butt" trick and coming down the same way. I had zero confidence about navigating stairs just a few weeks ago, in fact I went into brain freeze when I encountered that task, but now it just seems rudimentary to me. So, on Saturday night, for the first time in a while, I very easily went up the stairs via my rear and, once there, pulled myself up to my walker and traipsed into my waiting bed which now had fresh linens on it, all ready for me! I cannot tell you what a huge accomplishment this was for me, so I went and did it all over again last night, too.

Mind you, my first floor cat fan club was a little confused by this move because they have been taking turns smothering me on the day bed, enjoying laying right on top of me, or on my pillow (which is not good because of my allergies to the very animals I adore!). So, early Sunday morning, first one, then two of my felines hopped onto the upstairs bed, walking rather gingerly for a moment and then realized "THERE she is!" and settled right in for a long snooze.

This whole ordeal has been metaphorically a journey of baby steps (pun intended) for me. I am not, by nature, a patient person, so waiting things out, going 1 mile per hour with a walker instead of pacing along quickly, etc., has been a bear for me. But I realized that, when you slow your life down, deprive yourself of some things you sorta kinda took for granted, they are all the more sweet once you rediscover them. I loudly said hello to my second floor for the first time in nearly a month and felt like a kid in a candy store (without the chocolate, of course). So, with some modified work assignments possibly coming up this week, more ease in leaving my home, doing stairs, and managing these wicked support devices, I guess it's fair to say "things could be worse!"