So, Dave had Friday off. Which meant I had company all day! This is a new development, thanks to a four-day work week trial and some “use it or lose it” PTO. Translation? Every Friday through Monday in June, I’m stuck with him. Just kidding! (Mostly. It is a lot of togetherness.)
My Friday started around the usual ungodly hour of 6am. After the doggie potty parade, Dave decided to catch some bonus Zzz’s. Meanwhile, I dove headfirst into the glamorous world of temporary disability paperwork. We did manage to squeeze in a movie, some virtual hangouts with friends, and tracked my dad’s progress as he drove cross-country to see the giant sequoias in California.
Let me reiterate: my dad, a Florida resident, decided to drive, solo, across the entire country to look at some trees. Sound crazy? Not especially. He actually took a prior trip to California to drive his van through a giant redwood, so this was definitely in his wheelhouse. He’s been a road warrior since I was a child, taking me on trips all over the United States. We were both roller coaster junkies back in our heyday, hikers in my teens, and cruisers for a large portion of my adulthood. I’ve been fortunate to have traveled fairly frequently throughout my entire life, and I wouldn’t trade either the time with my dad or the personal enrichment from seeing other places for anything.
Saturday and Sunday were pretty much the same flavor of “meh,” seasoned with a physical therapy appointment on Sunday. They spiced things up by adding some new exercises to my routine, which is code for “more ways to feel clumsy.” The rest of the weekend was blessedly uneventful.
Monday, however, was a whole different beast. Exhausting, but not bad. I had an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon an hour away, and I was strangely nervous about venturing out into the world. Turns out, discovering you haven’t quite mastered walking does a number on your self-confidence. Who knew?
Just getting in the truck was a challenge. First Dave wheeled me outside, then I used the walker to stand and pivot (or if I’m being honest, I took a couple of steps) to get to the passenger seat. I sat down sideways, and then swung my legs in. Voila! Now I’m ready to hit the road. It sounds easy but actually wasn’t.
We arrived at the orthopedist, and they unleashed my legs for inspection! They snipped the stitches on my left leg and removed the inside stitches on my right foot, leaving the outside ones on the right foot for a grand finale in a couple of weeks. My left foot got the full treatment: tape, compression sock, and the triumphant return of the boot. My right foot, however, was recast and bandaged. After an hour-long car ride home, it was back to elevating my puffy feet.
Later that afternoon, my amazing hairdresser, Cicily, came over and washed my hair in the kitchen sink. I’m not exaggerating when I say the feeling of water on my scalp after all this time was pure, unadulterated magic. Seriously, I think angels sang. I was so wiped out that I crashed out on the couch around 6pm, only waking up long enough to drag myself to bed.
Which brings us to Tuesday. Thanks to my ridiculously early bedtime, I woke up around 1:30am. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, I caved and woke Dave up to retrieve my wheelchair, which was a mere five (unwalkable) steps away. This constant reliance on others is seriously messing with my head. I’ve been fiercely independent my whole life, so having to ask for the most basic things feels like torture. Anyway, without the living room walker, I couldn’t transfer, so I just hung out in the wheelchair until about 4:30 am when I went back to bed to elevate my feet again. It was then, in my less than well-rested state, that I had an epiphany: I needed a second walker. The thought of being completely dependent on someone to move from room to room was just…no.
Dave woke me up so I could be situated in the living room before he left for work. I was under the impression that occupational therapy was coming that day, but they didn’t call until mid-afternoon to schedule for Wednesday. My friend Samantha came over and we visited while she took care of the pups. The rest of the day was uneventful, and Dave convinced me to push through until 9 pm to try and fix my completely messed up sleep cycle.
That’s the saga so far. Stay tuned for more tales from the land of limited mobility! Hopefully, the next update will include stories of more independent maneuvering and conquering the great outdoors (or at least, my front yard). Wish me luck!