So 48 hours ago I thought I might never move again unaided. 24 hours ago I decided to stop taking my pain meds and see how it goes. I took one regular Tylenol yesterday evening and that’s been sufficient. Movement is of course still limited. I still have to be majorly careful and controlled, but ability returns in leaps and bounds. Generally I move like a weeble-wobble: when I need to get up from the bed or sofa I manage by sort of rolling onto my side and up from there in one smooth motion, hands clasped to my torso just to be sure everything feels supported. I’ve got the hang of this! Last night I tentatively slept on each side for a little while.
My charming caretaker Ed left just a while ago to return to England. He thoughtfully got down anything I might need from high kitchen shelves after he’d gone, all done even before I woke (with the aid of a lovely cup of coffee delivered to me). I told you he was good at this.
Now it’s quiet here, the way a house is when all of the souls suddenly leave, save one. It’s strange and still again in a snap, in a way that makes you the tiniest bit sad even if you’re happy enough to be alone. But a day of readjustment will shake the normal texture back into my afternoons. And in just 12 days (or so) I’ll be living in another country. I’ll be busy until then; I’ll take this little rest where I can.