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.


Ms. Moon said...

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.

am said...

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.

liv said...

"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.

Steve Reed said...

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.

Anonymous said...

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.

Colette said...

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.

Zhoen said...


37paddington said...

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.