We humans get set in our ways. My attachment to some things I do is almost superstitious, maybe a sign of incipient OCD, or an unconscious longing for ritual. Last night as I was slammed to sleep (Percocet), I had a couple of seconds to think about the changes in my life wrought by the hip replacement. Changes that have NOTHING to do with the hip, mobility, pain. Sometimes you have to let go. And there you are, doing things differently.
Until this, I had never given anyone — let alone myself — an injection. Tracing the circle of injection points around my belly button I can see how much better I am at it now than I was a week ago. Yay blood thinner.
PJs, I hate them. Have not slept in the damned things since high school. Now I’m sleeping in a purple satin night shirt. Not because of IT per se, but because it’s slippery on the sheets making getting in and out of bed easier. I don’t even mind it. My objection to Pjs is that they get tangled around one’s body when one tosses and turns, but, as I’m sleeping locked in place at this point, that problem is solved.
I’m an inveterate side sleeper now sleeping on my back.
Privacy. I’m neurotic about some things that are part of being an animal on planet earth. I’ve spent the last week without one bit of that and so what?
I even went one morning without coffee, and didn’t die as a result.
A more profound change — and thinking about it brings a lump to my throat — I’m very very very very self-reliant. Now, here I am reaching out to friends for help. The result? A crystaline, icy casing of fear cracks, breaks, falls. The little being inside steps out, looks around, dazed and hesitant, but there’s no going back. ❤