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.
