The day is rushing head on toward me. As I stand to walk unassisted I project myself forward two days from now when I won't be standing to walk without an aid. A set of crutches or a wheelchair will be my companion and I will have to temper my patience. I move quickly. When I vacuum or mop or do laundry or when I'm out in the work force, I'm a study in economical movement. Wasted steps is wasted time.
When nursing, I wore a lab jacket with big pockets that carried extra bottles of saline, syringes, tubing connectors, band aids, tape and anything else I could think of to save me steps on going all the way back down the hall to the med card or the supply room to get these things. The other nurses knew about my filled pockets and would sometimes slide up to me and ask for tape, scissors, or a syringe. I was a walking supply cart. We get much to busy to run up and down the halls all day and be exhausted by the end of the shift.
Today I pulled the clothing rack out of the laundry room and rolled it to a bedroom. This rack is where I hang laundry from the dryer to circumvent wrinkles and having to iron the clothes. That rack is now sitting at the foot of the bed in one of the guest bedrooms. While I can walk unassisted, I gathered blouses, capris and pants and underwear and hung it on this rack. I can roll the wheelchair right up to it and select the clothes I want to wear. Getting to my clothes closet in the back bedroom would have required me moving some furniture out of the way and that was something I didn't want to deal with.
Now for some patience. I must be prepared to move slowly. Everything I do will take 3 times as long as before. It's only for two months until I get put into a walking boot and as clumsy as that will be, at least I will be able to walk.
Time is slipping away on me. I sound as though this is the end of my life. It's not the end, just a new way of life for me for a while. I'll remember to be grateful if this surgery fixes the problem. Patience, patience, patience.