As I reached out for the light switch my toe caught and I was held fast, spinning. An odd internal noise; did I feel it or hear it? Falling, landing, and pulling myself up, sitting on my butt. Screaming pain...my iPhone so far away. I'd fallen and badly, I knew I would not be getting up. Butt-dragging with my hands, forty feet to the phone; thankfully adrenaline was still kicking it. In just a few minutes the swelling would begin, I did not wait.
So, that was the last day of the regular school year. It is now June 16. Summer, after no spring, is progressing. I don't know what is alive and what is dead in my yard. The neighbor boy mows the grass. His baby sister waters the plants in the baskets on the deck. I will hopefully soon be discharged from the rehab facility where I am easily the youngest resident by 15- 25 years.
Plans, so many plans, for the summer on hold, as I am in a holding pattern after busting my femoral shaft, the bones sliding past one another, the leg becoming a good six inches or more shorter in the pre-surgery hours.
Now, I am reduced to spectator, pushed to the sidelines yest again. This a major break, one that can takes months and months before I am freed from wheelchair and walker. Again, I am faced with the self-knowledge that I am not mentally resilient to forced immobility and having others do for me. Trapped in rehab I am at the mercy of others. No choices in food, unable to self-administer a pain reliever prescribed for "as needed." Yesterday, I had screaming 7 out of 10 throbbing pain, and I had to wait 50 minutes before the right person could administer the prescription...tears running down my face.
Disrupted sleep at best with rounds of PT, OT, and people filling out forms. This cannot be my life.