COMETING HOME
Finally I have the time and mind, ability and space to begin to try and respond collectively to the uplifting communications so many of you have kindly afforded me over the past several months; please be assured they were of great support to me in finding uplift for my new wings. It has been interesting to take on the challenge of mobility again at my age. I just wish I could remember more of how I did it the first time; toddling seems so effortless, in retrospect. Of course, back then I had all the time in the world, and falling was a key learning tool.
Finally left the hospital six months after sufficient recovery from what turned out to be a relatively contained left-brain cerebral hemorrhage (not "massive," as was first announced here). I attribute it partly to stress (zipping around like a 40-year-old) but mainly to my last two motorcycle accidents. I have foresworn use of vehicles other than my good leg, until perhaps such time as I regain pedal-to-the-metal capabilities. Went through the two-month recovery period (lot of great people and good stories there) and then the 4-month limit on rehab (ditto for stories there), then moved to a private rehab center much nearer our house to polish up on my Fred Astaire moves and cane-wielding skills. I finally returned to the house for the first time on a bright Spring Sunday, nine months after I had been carried away on a comet.
Spent a good part of the initial you-can't-go-home-again time figuring out how to get from car door to house door across the formerly beautiful rugged stone driveway with just a cane and then open the heavy rugged door with half the pull power, then how to take my shoes off while teetering not-quite two-legged in the genkan, then how to ascend the Gibraltar that was now the step that had always led to the beautiful - but now primarily slippery - oak board floor level, where at last I stood looking gingerly around at the spacious residence where once I had jetted so easily updownstairs and from room to room with my eyes closed, if I wanted. When we'd designed this place I sure hadn't had me in mind...
What a difference a difference makes.
(To be continued)
13 comments:
Out here in the ethersphere one never knows why someone stops writing. We like to hope it is boredom or business or just plan new habits and interests. But sometimes it is the real world making a visit and flinging us in a new direction. I guess we will all face something like this eventually, even though we pretend not. You certainly have the mindset to go forward and adjust and accomodate nicely.
I too have missed your writings.. I had emailed your brother and he had told me what had happened.. I am so glad you made it through rehab.. Somehow, I know you will get back to a new reinvented self.. Your strength and young-at-heart is the key... btw, your bro use to live not far from me... Now he lives where my parents (now deceased) use to live.
So overjoyed that you have returned! You have truly been missed!
Great to hear you have been able to return home and best wishes for continued recovery.
So glad to see you back. Missed your blogs.
delighted to read you again.Hopefully the pleasure of being back in your home will speed your recovery. Wishing you all the very best.
Great to see you back. Here's to a speedy recovery.
Joy at your return has made my made day! Believe me, there are many lessons along the paths that, while once were just a way for feet to reach the garden or kitchen table, now are suddenly Mt. McKinley or the ice rink in Rockefeller Center.
One's pace slows and the Monk's patience is imposed, and not always appreciated, but it has its lessons.
"In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." ~ Albert Camus
Welcome home!
Welcome back! Maybe you can polish your cane-wielding skills for discouraging garden foragers.
What a wonderful surprise to see that "Monkeys Breaking Good?" had slid down a notch and your new news was in place. Onward!
I like your "What a difference a difference makes". Glad you are home.
So good to see and "hear" you. Maneuvering may be different, but your writing is as good as ever.
annie
It might just be time to break the unbreakable rule about shoes in the house, or at least find some slippers with rubber soles. LL Bean might have some. Best to you as you recover at home.
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