I figured it is about time to sit up in bed and survey the situation. Can I move? Not really. But am I alive? Most definitely.
Each of us has our own levels of battles that we face in life. Some may be viewed more difficult than others, but none are more than we can handle. It is not our place to judge others levels of hardship as not fair, or not the same. We have our own personal sufferings. I will admit to you, giving up the freedom of mobility is extremely challenging for me. I love my freedom of being outside. I love the ability to move at will. I never want to be a burden on someone else. Too late for that. I am officially a burden. An immobile burden.
Besides all the obvious adventures I feel I am missing on my bike, there are several other nuances I miss as well. I like to clean and organize. By myself. Who doesn’t crave this, right? I like to put things in their place at my discretion, in their appropriate color coded, alphabetized, sort of way. Obsessive compulsive? Quite possibly. Without being able to move, I sit and stare the offending object that needs to be put away. I attempt to use my crutches as chopsticks to pick up and launch the item in the direction it is supposed to go. As you can imagine this method only as a 50% success rate. With a failed attempt, I relinquish control once again, and lay back in bed. I wiggle my toes. I take a deep breath. I thank God I am alive in this world another day, even if I am fuming about the mismatched sock on the floor. I have another day to be here. Another day to make an impact. Another day to cherish.
Is it really only Day 5?