I lose my glasses often. My aid laughs at me. (She is a good friend as well) because I am actually wearing them.
Being confined to bed, I cannot travel, snap great photos, share adventures unless you’d like to hear about my thrilling doctors’ visits or maddening hospital stays. Over twenty-four since 2009 including nineteen surgeries.
Hey, well that might be newsworthy or perhaps qualify me as a ninth or tenth place contender for the Guinness World Records 2019. 😎
My short term memory is shot. I think it comes from all the anesthesia procedures and surgeries. But, my long term memory is more vivid and real than I’d like.
I have very patient caregivers. Without them I can’t, get bathed, eat, brush my teeth, wash my hair or face, and most anything else that may come to your mind. But, how I long to do these things for myself.
The internet and I have an ongoing love affair for without it I would have nothing to do but look at the ceiling or watch TV. I am not a big fan of either. Besides, I spotted a tiny spider on the ceiling one day, so I try not to look up even though I have to lay flat due to skin integrity issues on this noisy but comfortable pressure relieving mattess:
I love to cook, but my circulation got so bad that after only four hours up in my wheelchair, my feet turn the color of an eggplant. My surgeon has already performed two digital surgeries on both feet.
Shoes. How I miss them. I used to wear lots of these:
Now I can only wear socks. Sigh.
Here’s an interesting anecdote. When I was a eight (in the fifties), I watched a Shirley Temple in The Little Princess. She was speaking with “Queen Elizabeth” who look so dignified wearing a dress that covered her ankles.
I remember saying to my mother, “Mommy when I grow up and am in a wheelchair I wanna dress just like that lady.”
How ironic and funny. It was as if I predicted my future. I cannot wear pants or shorts, but, I have a closet full of hand-designed dresses that slip on over my head and cover my ankles too (because of that movie).
This may sound crazy, but it’s true: I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s. Why? Because it has put me in the position where I can help so many other people.
This may also sound odd, but I think everyone who’s been seriously hurt should feel this way. Why? Because wounded people need to be healed—by talking about it, being accepted and understood, and growing into a new self-identity. And the greatest expression of healing is when the wounded person becomes a healer to others.
Who knew that life in a bed could become a place of debilitating pain mixed with incredible peace and joy. Not me. Until it happened to me.
Anyhow, that’s it for today. Just a glimpse into my daily life. Hope you enjoyed the tour. 🙂