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!"

Setting the Bar Low = Pleasant Surprises

How many times in your life have you made the comment to someone going through a difficult time, "Just let me know what I can do..." and then, of course, you forget all about the poor unfortunate slob and your conscience can remain clear/clean!

As a bereavement counselor, I am real big on advising clients to not expect others to read their minds and know magically what they need: you actually need to open your mouth, swallow your pride and TELL them. Really, no kidding, that's how it is in the real world. This is especially true during a time like the one I am going through where humility has to take a back seat...along with vanity (as I wrote about earlier).

Here's the thing: I cannot go out and get my newspaper, nor can I get my mail (trust me, if you saw my front porch and ensuing steps down to the street level you would know what I mean when it comes to my being on crutches). I can crutch my way down to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee or a sandwich but how do I carry it back to the living room or dining room table? Today I faced a minor obstacle like those just mentioned in that I had just received my first worker's comp check and it needed to be deposited. No direct deposit is available with this perk, so somehow it has to find its way to the bank...which is not exactly right around the corner, plus my partner isn't home from work till nearly 7 p.m. With some bills coming due by Monday, I need the dough in the bank today plus I need some cash to pay people back when they get me lunch or groceries or whatever.

So, I sat and stewed about how I would get this task done today, made all the more challenging by the fact that I am aching all through my arms and even my hands now from using my crutches (it even hurts in my forearms as I type this). As fate would have it, a co-worker of mine who I very much enjoy but had no high expectations of during my leave of absence calls me up and starts off with, "What can I do for you today?" She has already been over once to help me clean my house and organize a few things and she did this on her day off which she was now offering to do yet again today. I realized very quickly, "Wow, she is actually for real!" Still ,I hesitated to tell her I needed this banking done. I needn't have worried because she convincingly said again, "Tell me what you need done and I will be up in no time to do it for you." Really? Yes, really.

Not only that, but she said the magic words, "You want lunch from Wendy's?" and we were all set. She showed up within the hour with a chicken sandwich, huge diet coke and chili and after we talked a bit, she was off to do my banking for me. I stupidly gave her bad directions to the God forsaken bank (which is not conveniently located, to say the least) but still she came back with a smile and cash for my empty wallet. You may ask, "So, what's the big deal??" Here's the big deal: I truly didn't expect this co-worker (now officially a "friend") to be there for me in this way. She had told me before my surgery to count on her if I needed help and I sort of yeah-yeahed it, but now it had come to fruition, not just once but twice. It made my aches and pains and severe boredom a little less so. So, set the bar low and you never know what might happen: the people you least count on make their presence known at these times and help make an ordeal such as this more bearable.