I'm Alive

My DVR tells me I've got 26 episodes of Jeopardy that I haven't watched. I used to watch one every night. That was before I crashed my back and started taking pain medication.

My husband remembers really well-thought-out, beautifully prepared meals every night. He was down in his HAM radio room about quarter to eight when I called him on the telephone's handy intercom feature tonight. It's handy because I'm having a really hard time using the stairs right now. "Here's your stupid question of the night," I said when he answered. "Did we eat dinner?" You can imagine how bad I felt, having to ask, but pain medicine makes me stupid, and I just couldn't remember.

He usually reminds me to eat, but I didn't remember that, either. "No," he said. Luckily, we had some leftovers I was able to put together in the time it took to dish it up and use the microwave. We never used to eat like that. He could help or complain, but he isn't doing either. I hope this doesn't last much longer. At least I'm losing some weight. I noticed him eating steak at lunch time, so I don't think he is. I had an apple with peanut butter, but fell asleep before I finished it.

I haven't been writing in my blog, and still owe a slide show on our return to Venice. I'm supposed to be playing a 45 minute set on my guitar at our church on the 4th of July. I haven't practiced in over two weeks. I have a pile of laundry that nobody else is going to wash. My doctor's office called, and he's out sick. No wonder I waited a week without hearing from him.

I go to physical therapy three times a week, and this Friday morning I'll be seeing a spine specialist. Early. I hope I can make it to Fort Collins by 9 a.m. Actually it'll probably be easier than noon. I'm usually awake by three or four, when the pain won't let me lie down any longer and then I'm exhausted by mid-morning. Hopefully this new doctor will have some answers for me. I know he'll have a report from my physical therapists (both of them) before I get there.

If I never see another air cast in my life, it will be too soon.

Make God Laugh

Last night I laid out my plans for the blog. God is laughing now. Or maybe He's not. I'm not sure this time. I refer to the adage that if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.

I thought I was in quite a bit of pain when I got to the physical therapy office. Going through my mind repeated since yesterday was a prayer of gratitude that I had this double appointment. Relief was in sight. Physical therapy isn't always exactly pleasant while it's in progress, but it really works. When I walk out of there I always feel so much better than when I limp in.

And then there was today. We were running late, so I took the stairs, not the elevator. I could hardly stand up straight when I came through the door. They took me back immediately. First Jami worked with me. When that appointment was done, Ashley took me in for an hour, and even kept me about ten minutes over. I was feeling better than I'd felt all week—even after the last appointment. We discussed the upcoming week's schedule while I struggled to put the cast back on. I was still sitting on the therapy bed.

Can you just feel the other shoe getting ready to fall? I went to swing the leg with the heavy air cast off the bed without supporting it properly. I tore something in my back that connects to my right hip. I can no longer pick up my right foot.

I went home, medicated myself and went to bed. I just got up and I'm getting ready to take another pain pill. I'm allowed to take 1-2 every 4 hours. Believe me. I'll be taking 1 every four hours until bedtime, and then 2. I've got ice packed on my back and hip right now, and when I lie down, I'll switch back to damp heat. I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I won't be going anywhere. Maybe I'll be up long enough to write about Venice. John's on his own for dinner. I'm having Crackerfuls.

Hours Later:

My back has calmed down enough so that I can tell where the real pain is coming from—the hip. I'm beginning to wonder if I either broke or cracked something in my hip. I guess I'll be calling my regular doctor tomorrow morning. I wonder if he works on Saturday. I've never thought to check before.

My Complicated Week

I'm running late with my last Venice blog, and tying up the trip home, but this last week has been spent dealing with physical therapy and and pain while I handle the effects the air cast has on my back and hip. It hasn't been pleasant, to say the least. I've spent a little time limping around the house feeling guilty about the laundry backing up and the blog not getting done. I have spent hours in physical therapy, though, and gone to a short writer's class on self-editing, which I needed for my novel.

The only thing of real interest we did was today, when we met up in Denver with friends we hadn't seen for nearly 25 years. We just reconnected with them online, and found that they had retired to Colorado Springs, not much further South of Denver than we are North. We met on the steps on the Capitol Building, had a quick tour, taken in slow motion by a guide who was very understanding about my mobility limitations, and then took the free shuttle to the mall area where we had dinner at Swing Thai.

I'll get photos up for that soon, too. The only other interesting thing that I've done, other than take long hours lying down rotating ice and heat on my hip and back, was to play guitar and sing for both services at church last Sunday. That went very well, as far as the music went, but by the time I got home, I was wiped out—happy, but exhausted and in too much pain to sit at the computer and think about photographs and memories.

This too shall pass. I'll get back to the trip, because it's what I want to share so badly. I have a double PT session tomorrow, and it'll be over early, giving me time to start a blog before I cook dinner. That's the one thing I've managed to keep up, since John depends on me for that.

So if you've been watching for the final Venice photos, I apologize. They're coming. Just not tonight.