Buried Alive

It's how I feel lately, and me without a shovel. Even a big spoon would do. I hate being so down. I hate even more spreading it around by writing about it. Sometimes my legs have the sensation of being trapped under large, heavy rocks. It's weird because, in reality, they really don't have sensation of any kind to speak of. Sometimes my soul feels like it's weighed down, too.

I keep thinking about how unhappy I got after I had my first shower in months. I cried and I don't know why. It wasn't from joy, I can assure you. It wasn't from physical pain, either, though the plastic table they lay me on to transfer me down to the shower room hurts my back. Also, when they had me in the lift, they bonked my head really hard on the door to my room. That hurt, too. Thankfully, that seldom happens.

Saw my therapist today. It was a somber session. He did get me to laugh, once. He was proud of that, because I was not at all cheerful. He's a real sweetheart and I'm lucky he's my therapist. I'm extremely unhappy that I will lose him as my therapist if I actually do get orthopedic surgery. I'm dreading the thought of never seeing him again, and of starting all over again with another therapist. But the way things are going, I have to wonder if the surgery on my legs is ever going to happen. Something always seems to get in the way of my progress. It's almost uncanny.

I am grateful.....

...that I have such a terrific therapist

...for my wonderful friends and family

...that I generally have my wits about me

...that Jeff and I have become great friends

...that I still have hope I'll live with a warm, cuddly old rescue cat one day

...that I still remember what a purr feels like and sounds

...that I have children I am proud of whom I love very much

...that I was privileged to have Lyra in my life for nine wonderful years of love and laughter

And so I will end this on a positive note.

May your lives be filled with laughter and happy dreams that never end.