just when you think...

...nothing else could possibly go wrong, wham!!

I thought for sure we were at our family quota for MVAs for well, at least six months.

I was wrong.

Last night, just as we had rolled over and started our night's slumber my husband's cell phone rang. I saw the picture of the caller and knew it was our eldest calling from Montana. Then I heard the words no parent ever wants to hear, "I've been in an accident...."

Then I promptly bursted into tears. Now mind you, my current situation leaves me exhausted and very frustrated by bedtime. But yeah, hearing your kid speak those words, especially when they're thousands of miles away, can bring a mom to tears.

out with the HH

As of today I'm no longer receiving home health services. I was last seen by my HH physical therapist and the nurse came today to discharge me.

Whoa, it's time for the big guns now!

Tomorrow I start outpatient physical therapy. Fortunately, my insurance (finally) approved the referral for me to go to PT at the hospital I work for. It's closer, which is important when depending on others to drive me.

Yesterday my Monday started off rough. No one was here to carry my scooter downstairs after it would be time for me to get up and ready for the day, so Big B took it down when he left for work. This left me with the crutches.

That's not so bad except 1.) it's exhausting when one has to crutch around at any point and for any length of time, 2.) it's even more so exhausting when one has to shower and made basically no preparations the night before, 3.) it's really bad when one falls.

I'd awakened earlier to make sure AW left for school on time (by way of phone calls) and just before returning to my slumber I'd heard something fall, but didn't pay it much mind. Well, after arising for the day I quickly learned it had been a caddy at my bedside that had been holding multiple objects, to include a small flashlight. Not realizing it was there, I neglected to scoot the flashlight out of my way. So I start crutching it and I swear it probably looked like a scene from a cartoon.

Aside from a bruise to my lower right shin, my left buttock and my ego, I'm ok.

I picked myself up, dusted myself off and went on with my day.

the penthouse

This past week has been a whirlwind of activity. My mom came for a visit, we went for my second follow-up with my surgeon and I finally moved upstairs to my own bedroom.

Yesterday, when my PT came for her last visit she walked into my bedroom and declared it "the penthouse". It is the top floor of my house and I love it. Being back in my own room has provided a feeling of normalcy that's been missing for some time now.

Sure, I've made progress over the past 6-7 weeks, but nothing quite beats your normal living patterns. I never thought I'd ever spend that much time in either of my sons' rooms. The time spent there was bittersweet. It enabled me to get to be a little closer to them, especially AW since he currently lives at home and has made his room his own space.

Going up and down the stairs has been bothersome to my tailbone, which had almost healed. I've also grown a bit accustomed to crutches, but not so much that I use them to go up and down the stairs. My left ankle and foot have enough problems without hopping from stair to stair on them. It's progress.

Progress means change, even if that change means returning to a previous existence.

Change is good.

it's progress!

Today I showered completely by myself and by that I mean not another soul was within my 3 acres, besides my animals. My first several showers after the accident were at the hands of Big B. I could barely move. We made due and he scrubbed me clean every other day. As the weeks have gone on I've been able to do more and more for myself. Once we moved me up to the main level I've pretty much been on my own showering, as long as someone else was in the house, just in case.

The foot looks better than it has all along. The swelling is all but gone. I've removed the steri-strips. They weren't going anywhere on their own since they didn't get much air time. The incision looks great. The scarring is going to be nothing but a faint line eventually.

Most of the bruising I had has vanished. There's a faint remnant of one on my left inner, lower thigh. Besides the ankle incision scar, I'll have three other battle wounds. The one on the back of my left hand, one on my left lower shin and one on my right knee.

As the weeks go by the scars will fade and eventually so will the bad memories. I'll always have the good memories, of love, kindness and tenderness.