Five Days Til Touch Down

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

How can it be that I get a buzz from regular Tylenol?

That was the first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes this morning. I was lying in bed with a pillow wedged between my legs to keep my post-surgery ankle from rubbing against my healthy one. Cinders, the devil kitty was lying next to me and she gave me a low growl as I stroked between her ears. My middle-aged body creaked as I stretched and shifted my weight to sit on the side of the bed. Cinders yipped and snipped at me as she bounded her fat self out of her side of the bed. I tightened my core and stood up on one leg. With practiced finesse I turned my entire body around and seated myself in my old friend, a metal wheelchair.

I went through my ritual of morning self-care. Dammit but I sure do love a shower. Leaning against the wall, I stand on one foot and let the hot water run down my entire body. It’s the closest I get to having a lover touch me. You don’t know how much you need the touch of another human until you are incapacitated with an injury and have no prospects. My left leg began to shake so I sat in my shower chair. I washed my face, shaved my legs and washed my hair. Cinders peered around the side of the shower curtain and mewed. I flung water at her and she ran away like her ass was on fire. My laughter echoed on the ceramic tiles. Afterward, I dried off and with my walker hopped back to my wheelchair.

I drank coffee.

Used my bone stimulator.

Did some banking.

Sat and waited to go to physical therapy.

That’s the story of my life these days.

Hurry the fuck up…

And wait….

I’m sick of only being able to wear one damn shoe at a time.

30 minutes of cardio left me sweating like a whore in church, but dammit I felt good! Amelia and I worked my right ankle and foot so hard. I was proud of the fact that we increased the reps of the work out and the size of the ball on the BAPS board. Amelia rewarded my efforts with a massage. We took measurements and found that my Range of Motion had greatly improved in the last month.

Look at me, I can point my toes!

Does that hurt?

Nope, but I’m sure it will later.

She and I said our goodbyes and good weekends. I won’t see her until Thursday of next week. I hope to be walking when I do….Wearing my gym shoes….And pushing my walker.

Tom my usual cab driver, picked me up and whisked me back to my apartment. To my cage, and my perch. Icing my ankle, I zoned out and watched crappy t.v. Cinders the devil kitty, snuggled around the top of my head.

I called Mom.

Shared texts with friends.

Took meds.

Fell asleep.

Tonight, I celebrate that I have five days left in this cage. I’ve learned why the caged bird sings. He sings of freedom. I miss being a biped. I miss going wherever in the hell I want. I miss doing whatever in the hell I want.

I’m finished.

My foot’s on fire.

I laughed while I watched National Lampoon’s Family Vacation.

My Dad looks like Chevy Chase.

I miss John Candy.

And I’m happy I didn’t cry today.

In a private message exchange Red and I chatted about our days. As our convo wound down he asked me, where are you going to walk first? Right the fuck out of my surgeon’s office, I quipped.

I’m spent. Goodnight Moon and goodnight Word Press. This Sparkly Bird has had it!

Tunesday-Tiny Dancer, Adam Boy and Sublime Moments

Thanks La La for your tale of sublimity. I liked it so much I had to share one of mine.

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted about my kids. They’ve been busy. I’ve been busy. This is about my Adam boy, the quiet one. I think this is my favorite photo of him and the  lovely Claire, his girlfriend. She is the daughter of my heart.

I remember a few months back, he participated in a talent contest. There he stood, this stoic but sarcastic young man. A spotlight lit his baby face and the music swelled around him. What emitted from his throat was raw emotion. I thought my Meggie could sing, but damn. His tone was pure. Pitch, perfect. There was no sliding up to the note. He just hit it!  His voice a sweet tenor, with a falsetto that when you hear it, makes the heart soar.

You know, I’m proud of my children. Their talent. Their brains. Their rebelliousness. Hell, just about everything.  That night, I was proud of my son’s ability to lay his heart open and bleed while singing the lyrics of an old Elton John tune. As his falsetto crescendoed, his father and I beamed at each other. I rested my head on Roger Darling’s chest and let tears spill down my cheeks. Our Meggie is classically trained and a talent in her own right. But our Adam Boy, he sings his emotions. They project from his body with every note he sings.

Hold me closer Tiny Dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today