Recovery is a Full-Time Job

I began my day at 6:23 A.M. this morning, unless you count getting up at 5:00 A.M. to take medicine and let the dog out.  I set the alarm for 6:23 because my teenager asked me to wake him up at 6:30, if he slept through his alarm.  He is a bit of a character and when the movie 23 came out, he made a big issue over the number 23 (just to entertain folks… primarily himself).  I figured if I set my alarm for 6:23 (I like to get up before everyone else so I can get a head start.), I would initially note the odd  time and then remember my son’s request because of his number.  Incidentally, he was up as soon as his alarm sounded, so my little mind game wasn’t necessary.  I still enjoyed the little device I used to help me remember his request.  I try to do this more often lately, since I am having some difficulty with short-term memory… and going off on tangents.  So I then nudged my youngest through the process of getting ready for school. 

Then at 7:00 A.M. I had a physical therapy appointment.  I was grateful my husband warmed up the car, as the temperature was a whopping 4 degrees this morning.  I was also thankful that the therapist’s office is only 5 minutes from home, so I was able to slap on some sweats and leave only 30 minutes after getting out of bed (off the couch).    

After the therapist kicked my butt, my husband and I did have time to have breakfast before heading to my appointment with my hand surgeon.  They removed the large splint from my left arm, revealing the pins and stitches left over from my hand surgery.  A technician took two x-rays, one of which had to be redone.  Then I was fitted for a new, less cumbersome splint. 

I needed to have a document notarized, and I had decided to do this while I was already out of the house.  When I arrived at the bank, I needed to use the restroom which involved more of a walk than I had done to date.  While there, I ran into a friend who I chatted with for a couple of minutes.  Afterward, the notary took care of me and we headed toward home.

Realizing it was now lunch time, we stopped for Mongolian stir fry.  It was my choice, I thoroughly enjoyed it, but by this time I was tired and my back hurt.  Afterward, we headed home and I sat in the recliner for two hours until my youngest son came home from school.  And then I sat for another 30 minutes or so.

A little before dinner time, my substitute teacher brought by food that a coworker had prepared for my family.  We talked a while, and I realized that standing for any length of time hurts.  In the meantime, another friend had also asked to bring dinner as she does weekly.  I already knew the first meal would be cold and could be held until tomorrow.  And I never turn down offers of food, as I am still unable to cook.  So when our hot meal arrived, I visited with my friend and returned her dishes from the previous week.

We ate dinner and then I retired back to the recliner, this time with a heating pad. Now I compose this post in my perfected three-finger style, and I am having the thought that this recovery is a full-time job.


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