It has been a month or so since I found my wound and am stuck in bed. Frankly, I shudder at how quickly the time has past. And no I am not having fun. Over the weekend it dawned me how much I miss doing things I took for granted. I am nor referring to work but rather the small things that make a life. So what do I miss? In no special order:
1. Kayaking: This is the best time of year to be on the water. Power boaters are few and far between, the heat of the summer is no longer a variable, and the changing color of the trees spectacular.
2. Driving: I miss my car. I love driving and once a week I would drive to new location for no reason.
3. Food: I miss cooking my own food and putting it on my own plate. I miss making my own sandwich, making coffee in the morning, getting my own beer and picking out the beer mug.
4. Tub: I miss soaking in a warm bath.
5. Cleaning: Hard to imagine but I miss cleaning my own house. Such mundane activities help me unwind and think.
6. My desk: I miss my desk where I always get my best writing done.
7. Grocery shopping:Another activity hard to believe missing. Ordinarily shopping is a chore but I miss picking out my own food.
8. Students: I miss the enthusiasm of college students. Even when they screw up, and they do, it is somehow endearing.
9. Puttering: Screwing around the house and letting my mind wonder. I do my best thinking organizing my files and book.
10. Splitting wood: I have a wood burning stove as my principal source of heat. I collect and split all my wood in the Fall.
11. Fire: I love to burn wood inside and out. I often collect wood and cook food over an open fire. I enjoy the unique wood fire provides.
12. My son: I miss doing stuff--anything together. Thankfully I knew long absence was coming so I was prepared. I have learned he does not like to talk on the phone or email so we text message. He sounds like a man now. Wow has he matured.
13. Routine social interaction: The hardest for me to imagine missing. I actually miss people. I miss the ordinary social interactions we do not think about.
14. Dog: I have an active lab I miss playing ball with. I love to see her run. Now I toss the ball from my bed across the living room floor. This is a very distant second to being outside.
15. Privacy: I don't get to be alone often. I value solitude more than anything else.
The above list is silly and is not intended to be sentimental. It is random at best and indicates to me how small and large factors impact our lives. The reality is each day I am in bed gets easier: I am resigned to my fate as it is for now. I know my wounds are healing, my skin care and wound care ideal. am doing everything in my power to heal and am making slow albeit daily progress. I sure as hell have my ups and downs--I remain very emotional, a basic case when compared to my ordinary life. But I have even accepted this. I worry all the time--I look at the wound vacuum a million times a day and am terrified of power outages. No power no wound vacuum or clinitron bed. So my mantra has become my dependency is temporary, a very short period of my life given the numbers of years I have been alive. This helps but not as much as would like. Instead of dwelling on this I occupy my mind, write, read, and put up a post such as this one.
Your list makes me think. And appreciate. (And you may want to borrow a generator for the duration--just an idea...)
ReplyDeleteTerri, when I am able to sit in my wheelchair again I swear I am going to kiss it first! The generators that are affordable all require a pull cord. I cannot get such a machine started nor can my sister.
ReplyDeleteI can certainly understand your frustration. Hopefully you get up and around quickly.....
ReplyDeleteTake care of yourself, try to keep your mind occupied and hopefully things will improve quickly.
I can't pull pull-cords either. I didn't know that's how they start. What a pain in the neck.
ReplyDeleteTerri, The affordable generators are all pull types making them useless to me.
ReplyDeleteGreg, I will survive and get up in a few months. This will all be a bad memory in a year or two. Easy to say, hard to live through. Glad you are hunting again.