July 12, 2019 – I miss the simple things in life.
. .
. .
. like padding bare foot to the bathroom in the middle of the night to go pee
in the dark.
Later,
when dawn wakes me, slipping out of bed quietly and padding barefoot to the
kitchen pulling the drip coffee pot and porcelain filter forward on the
countertop. It is a simple thing enjoying
the process of grinding coffee beans, measuring the scoops into the filter and pouring
steaming water in swirls in the drip unit.
As
the strong brew dribbles into the coffee pot, I swish open the floor to ceiling
drapes on the kitchen slider scanning the back lawn for a glimpse of wild
rabbits munching clover in the early morning mist or noting the new batch of
feral kittens piled up in communal sleeping on the back patio.
Since
June 16th, I've been unable to do any “simple living” things. Everything is a difficult process or long
drawn out procedure to get from here to there or to get something to eat or
drink since I can’t manage to fix coffee or easily prepare food from the knee
scooter and now the air-boot.
I
have been at the mercy of my caregiver husband and his level of “care” or “food”
or “comfort” is on the other end of the spectrum of my idea of care, food, or
comfort.
Almost
a month into this episode of a broken right foot, with checkup last Monday and
instructions that I can now start walking in my air-boot this week. I am not to
overdo it, of course, and then in two weeks the doctor wants to see me in an athletic
shoe.
The
word athletic sounded foreign to me each
time he said it. I counted three times
he used it. I use the word sneakers
for such type shoes and most of my sneakers are red-clay filthy and worn out.
I
ordered a new pair of athletic shoes yesterday through Amazon and they will be
delivered to my door step, as I am not going to “boot” walk half a mile through
Walmart to try to find a pair.
Hopefully, what I’ve ordered will fit – if not, I have another week to
get a new pair of athletic shoes.
Monday
I went to the doctor. Today, I was chauffeured around tending to a few
errands. It is not comfortable sitting
in the car with the air-boot on – hurts my ankle and mentally I am exasperated. My husband, the chauffer, drives in a circle
to go a straight line.
The
few days I have been trying to get a little air-boot walking in, I’ve
discovered the round bottom air-boot tosses me out of balance and is much like
walking in high heels with one shoe missing a heel - up, down, up, down. All this air-boot walking is tossing my back
and hip out of kilter and pains me.
I
can hear you all – what are you complaining about – it’s just a broken foot –
get over it. Since it is the first serious injury of my life – it is all new to
me and I am not coping well.
I
miss a freshly made bed. I miss clean floors. I actually miss folding and
putting away my laundry. I miss the mundane things like taking out the trash, grocery
shopping, walking to the mailbox to get the mail. . .
. . . I miss the simplicity of life’s simple things,
which one doesn’t realize until one can no longer do them.
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