Last Friday, a bright, hot October afternoon, I finished one million trips to physical therapy.
Okay, maybe it wasn't really one million, but close.
It helped a lot, I ain't complaining. I'm not back as "good" as I was, but my brain is functioning better as much of the pain has gone away.
Now, if I can start driving again, Husband will be as happy as I. It's really cramped my style, not driving. And I know he's sick and tired of being my driver. I haven't driven since the first of February.
Little by little, he's regained some of his own freedom, which has caused a bit of anxiety with each step. Not walking me all the way to the pool for physical therapy, but rather staying in the waiting room was scary at first. What if I fell? But I did not.
Staying out of the bathroom while I get in and out of the shower. What if I fell? But I have not.
It's sort of like letting your toddler go for the first time. Except they are more confident that I am.
I'm back with some of my activities, including church. Routine has become more, well, routine again.
I've thought of hundreds of topics to blog about, but wrote none of them down. I will start jotting down notes again.
I'm going to be the guest author next week at a book club, and the next week a reader at a school's family night. I started back writing on the novel I was working on before all heck broke loose.
So, there is life after a herniated disc + blood sepsis + reaction to antibiotics.
If you are having a rough time right now, hang in there. I may have "missed" spring, but it looks like I may get to enjoy fall.
A new season always brings hope, no?
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