27 February 2017



Slow life report seven weeks after surgery. The birds are very noisy and busy. I counted three (3!) of the 100+ snowdrops of previous years in bloom. When I accused R of of having dug them up last summer he did not deny it. In fact, he gave his usual spiel about useless plants taking up valuable space. I grow veg, he says.
Seriously. This is what the world has come to.

At this stage, I am ready to sell my soul for an evening in the old armchair, all crooked and rolled up, legs hanging over the side. Instead, I watch an old Endeavour episode, lying on my side, while R tells me what I am missing from the plot because, well, it is a completely different angle.
Last night, I watched American Honey, which you can watch from all angles and still find amazing and sad and strangely hopeful.

But. But. But. I am able to walk down to the river and back and every day, I add another very tiny loop through our quiet neighbourhood to extend the distance.  I am allowed to sit for an hour max at a time (albeit no sofa or armchair). Twice a day, I diligently do my exercises as directed by the physiotherapist. I even cook dinner occasionally. In fact, I am discovering the many things a person can do while keeping an upright back but without twisting or bending: ironing, hoovering, washing the kitchen floor, cleaning the bathroom sink (but not the bathtub or the shower), moving tomato/pepper/aubergine seedlings into larger pots, cleaning the fridge - all suddenly delightful activities for a formerly and still somewhat stranded beetle.

Also, at some stage next week, my bicycle will have been fitted with state-of-the-art saddle suspension and elevated handlebars and I shall be able to cycle again - only for short flat and therapeutic distances, don't hold your breath here.

However, the right leg remains stubbornly limp and I continue to walk the sloppy way of a duck that has one paralyzed foot (wait, that's me). The outlook is meagre but apparently not hopeless which is why we are waiting for a letter from the powers that are, aka health authorities, in reply to my request for a specific rehabilitation program. In my dreams, I am already there but in reality, there are all sorts of obstacles. It's complicated. I am impatient. I want this to be over. I want things the way they were three months ago. I know, silly.



8 comments:

  1. In all actuality you have made huge progress! But- I understand your disappointment in the still limp leg. Dammit! May rehab be given and may it help.
    Tremendously.

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  2. Picturing you on your custom-fit bicycle next week and focusing on the hope for healing in your right leg. Signs of spring. Slowly but surely. After a light snowfall last night, we have an exquisitely clear sunny afternoon with the only snow in sight up in the hills.

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  3. "but apparently not hopeless" Sounds like a pretty OK place to be.
    You sound so much better and it's fantastic that they can fit a new seat so that you can cycle easier!

    I'm not a big fan of Shia LaBeuof, but I Endeavor, wish there was another series of that.

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  4. Well, it sounds like progress, even if things are moving more slowly than you would like. Getting out on a bike will be nice.

    I can't believe R dug up your snowdrops! I am constantly harassing Dave to be careful of the bulbs when he's planting other things.

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  5. You are walking to the river and back everyday! I love this news, and the new bicycle saddle suspension and handlebars that are coming. Progress, Sabine! What you are learning to do with your back upright is truly inspirational. I love your determination.

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  6. So happy to hear about the bike, and the walking. Not silly, persistent. Stubborn, maybe? Either way those are great qualities to have when you are convalescing.

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  7. You are doing wonderfully well. So many things you can do already. The lake, the neighborhood, even serious cleaning. Next, the bicycle! I am in awe of you.

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