It Takes A Village

It takes a village to get me out of the house some days. That, or a very patient Ernie.

I wake up and mutter to Esther (my stuffed eggplant). I ask Ernie why Esther gets to stay in bed all day. He asks me what she could do given she has no arms. We squabble about that a bit and I eventually crawl out of my little downstairs bed and join him on the couch. He hands me my iced tea and my pills and gets breakfast for us. I know. I know. The man is a saint.

Getting dressed, well, it just ain’t what it used to be. Getting dressed when your balance is bad, and you’re not comfortable standing for long, is easier said than done. Putting on a bra is not fun, and we don’t have room for a chair in the bathroom so I end up sitting on the toilet which always seems vaguely wrong. Now that it’s cold I try to pull some leggings on—again, not the easiest when it’s hard to stand and balance. I finally manage it and then sit in the dining room and ponder getting socks on. I remember I didn’t brush my teeth and go back to the bathroom and try to brush them thoroughly but quickly as it’s hard to bend over the sink. Ernie loads up my bag. I have a new little bag for the walker but we’re still figuring that out. Then I have to do my Mr. Potato Head stuff: putting on my eyes and ears (glasses and hearing aids). It was snowy so Ernie shoveled a path for me and my walker to the car. He did this with a garden shovel because evidently we gave our snow shovel to Owen (this happens a lot..”oh that’s right, we gave it to Owen”). Little Guy the walker and I head into the kitchen. I perch on a bar stool, put my coat on and wait for Ernie to back the car up so it’s closer. Then I let go of Little Guy and grab Joe (my shillelagh) and carefully and slowly go down our steep back steps. I get to the landing by the back door, set Joe aside and get my other walker Road Guy. Then it’s a big step over the threshold, then step, step to the edge of the outdoor concrete step. Lift walker and set it past the next interim step that Ernie built for me. Little step down, little step down, and walk about 15 feet to the car. Lean on the seat for a second before I push myself up onto the seat and swing my legs in. Ernie slides Road Guy in the back alongside Big Red the Rollator.

And so on and so on. And God knows this is nothing compared to so many others’ challenges. But it is an adjustment. Sometimes I dream I’m skipping down the stairs from our old fourth floor apartment in Chicago.

I’ve had two sessions of my water therapy. I kinda groaned when I saw I had a male physical therapist. I mean it’s bad enough having to put on a bathing suit, but as it turns out, he is lovely. And the water is more than lovely. But I gotta say…it is TOTALLY kicking my ass. I think this guy is pushing me much harder than some of previous people I worked with. I’m glad of it even as I pour myself into the car afterward, utterly exhausted, cold and wet. Ernie turns the heat up as high as it goes and I slowly recover my power of speech as we drive home.

Onward.

Love,
Cynthia

And for no reason, Ernie, Esther and Eggward watch a bit of tv.