I had foot surgery 5 weeks ago and had to use crutches, an iWalk (which isn't as easy to use as it looks in the ads) and a knee scooter (which is!). Began walking again a week ago and it was slow-going but liberating. I dropped the heavy black boot couple days ago. I have to do this rigamarole again soon, however, but this time I know how long the recuperation process takes so I won't begin losing hope before it's over.
Just as I thought I was ready to drive again and get back to life, COVID struck! What a bitch. Felt "funny" on Friday, walked around Walmart and wore myself out on Saturday, woke up Sunday to a bagel with honey and a cuppa joe. Then I went back to bed for 72 hours. Could barely pull myself out to crawl to the kitchen for a bite to eat. Crazy thing was I had no appetite. I couldn't taste or smell food. All I felt like eating was a mustard sandwich.
I woke up at 9:30 PM Tuesday and couldn't go back to sleep! What a bitch. I tossed and turned all night while my fever broke. Finally. When I got up on Wednesday, I couldn't hear environmental noises. Has this happened to anyone? I opened the house door and heard nothing. A cement truck was churning out product three hundred feet away and I couldn't hear it. Amazing. No birds. No nothing. I thought I was in a tomb, but it felt safe, cozy. I guess we sometimes need to be deaf to noise to feel genuine peace.
I forced myself to stay awake Wednesday and binged on The Walking Dead until late. Poor Rick. He feels so guilty over Lori's death. I did no social media, music, digital entertainment from Saturday night to Wednesday night. That was the first time I could tolerate sound, light. But I was starting to feel less like a zombie and it felt good.
I've been slowly but surely getting stronger and more normal. Hence, here I am adding a post to my blog. Last night I decided to close and delete all my silly social media and business accounts. I have no followers, no one at all interested in my life and my accomplishments. So, what the hell? The only one I planned to keep was my Facebook account. I love my friends and family. I choose to include them in my life. I don't have trolls sneering at me behind fake names there.
I feel loved there. I feel valued. I feel cared for. I can pick and choose who knows what's going on in my life and I can delete anyone who comes into my little FB garden and picks a fight. Like my old best friend who's dead to me now and my son who expects me to live with him and provide 24/7 babysitting services to his as-yet unborn child. That's an interesting story that no one really cares to hear. I thought of doing one of those "AITA" posts to ask if it were wrong of me to turn him down. But I asked my two slightly older sisters and they both said "Hell, no!"
I'm on the mend. As I said, after one more foot (thank God we've only two!) and to get my hearing fixed somehow after the beginning of the year, I'll have more freedom than I've ever known before in my life. The freedom to spend precious time with those sisters, my other son, my nephew and great-nephews, and numerous cousins. Spanning the California coast to Chicago. Who knows how long I'll have before Death or Dementia knocks at my door.
If you've read (ha ha!) my novels, you would know they span the California coast to Chicago west to east, and between Texas and South Dakota from north to south. Other than a trip to England to walk Hadrian's Wall, to Ireland for a ruddy-cheeked Irishman with a wicked wit, to Portugal to walk the Camino Santiago de Compostela, and (of course) Paris, the land of The Last Solo Roller is the only land I care to traverse in this lifetime.
I made a pot of Split Pea Soup, so I'm off for that and more mustard. Ymmmm.
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