Oh heavenly Betsy, I am loving dictation. As some of you know I broke my left thumb and right elbow in a recent motorcycle accident. So I am dictating this to you now. I CAN type but it’s much easier this way because otherwise I am agonizingly slowly typing with one finger. It has been 11 days since my accident and things are just now beginning to return to normal. It is funny the things that you begin to appreciate. I got a complete thrill today when I was able for the first time in 11 days to touch my face with my right hand. I can’t wash my face with my right hand or do anything useful but I can just now touch it, so my hopes are high that soon I may be able to brush my own hair, wash my face, or even apply make up! Let me just say you figure out who your friends are when you figure out who will cut your food into bites so that you can eat it with the three good fingers on your left-hand.
There are a few things that I am very afraid of. One of them is being vulnerable. One is being helpless. And one is being trapped. Much of my life has been this in the last few days. I have been at the mercy of my husband to help me with showering, food, medicine, pretty much everything. It made me crazy and made me grateful for him. The part that made me crazy is that hubby doesn’t like to be told how to do anything and that I have pretty specific ideas about how some things should be done. For example I don’t wash my butt with my bath puff. I know it’s silly because it’s covered in soap, but it just seems unclean to rub something on the rest of my body that has been in my butt. So when hubby trying to wash my butt that way and I shrunk away from him and asked him to let me put soap on my hand instead of using the bath puff, and he got irritated and did it anyway. It feels pretty awful to tell someone not to wash your butt and have them just spin you around and do it anyhow. I know it’s stupid but it was the straw that broke my camel’s back. I stood there in the shower crying at my own helplessness and dependence upon him. It was day 3 and I was thinking of the fact that it takes weeks for bones to heal and that there was no way I was going to survive weeks of this. Thankfully I’m finding that the healing is a process and I’m slowly getting back some of my abilities. It was partially being helpless and dependent upon my husband, but it was also that he was in rare form that day and irate about a million other things unrelated to me, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I had no choice but to still need him.
On the flipside of all of this, we’ve obviously spent a great deal more time together than normal. He’s taking leave to take care of me as the first week that we were both off of work with my injuries. We spent a lot of time talking about everything and I spent a lot of time grateful for his care. He drove me to oodles of appointments, and talked to me as he brushed my hair or we drove places. The sheer amount of time we spent together has brought up topics that we just don’t really talk about that much. It’s kind a like a road trip that way. Have you ever noticed sometimes on a road trip with someone and hour number eight or so, you began to really talk on a deeper level and in a way that you don’t normally talk? It has simply been very very intimate. And that’s a lovely thing to discover another level of intimacy after 12 1/2 years together. He still the only person that I’m sure if I were locked in the room with 24 hours a day for a week, when they opened the room there definitely wouldn’t necessarily be a body on the floor.
I guess I have more to say about all of this but it’s a long post already and I’m tired. That’s one thing that hasn’t totally improved. I get tired so easily. I’ll talk to you all soon