Poor Puppy--if it weren't for Jan and Carma who come to get her for romps and walks every single day. I'm no fun to be with. I lie in bed, do my exercises, watch movies, and sleep. Today I'm beginning to read my first novel since surgery: Valentine, set in Odessa, recommended by Bonnie. Dutch House is next--a gift from Janet at the hospital.
Movies are merging into each other, but my appetite and energy are low, so I'm watching one after the other. I'm playing Solitaire, not caring if I win or not, just as an exercise to see if my brain is working. Kate brings medicine I need at ten at night. Freda brings spaghetti and I eat five or six bites of it and we talk, her in a chair, me on the bed. Janet helps me with difficult leg exercises. Luci looks up at me with her hopeful eyes: are you better yet, can we play ball?
My voice gets rough after a little talking, so I turn off the phone about now and hope to read myself to sleep. I can walk from room to room without a walker or cane. Every day is a little better than the day before.
Calls, emails and texts from friends and family matter-- a lot, though I don't always have the energy to talk more than a few minutes.
I'm hoping for a full recovery by the time Day and Tom and the boys come in July. And then, next on the agenda is a trip to Georgia.
"Nobody told me it would be this hard," I said to my doctor--who replied what docs reply after childbirth. "If you knew, you'd never do it."
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