Laborious Days

My husband thought it would be a good idea if we went up to our country home on Lake Huron for a few days, being a holiday long weekend. The idea was definitely not appealing to me; however I did not want to disappoint my family. Our house’s main floor has a spacious bedroom, full bathroom and a big family room. I would most certainly be comfortable there. It’s open, airy and breathtaking. It’s been weeks since I’ve been up to the house and I’ve missed it terribly. I travel in the car with my leg propped up as comfortable as possible. This is my second time out of my home in weeks. I’ve entered a somewhat depressive state now, which my husband thinks is cabin fever. I don’t have any energy or vigour to venture out.

 I have to admit that our house is much more welcoming than our city condo, we have no cable and no internet, which does lift my spirits-no interference from the outside world. I am surrounded by nature there, and it’s a tangible escape from the city’s cold and unfeeling reminders. Part of me wishes I can spend the rest of my recovery here by the lake. I can get more accomplished (with my mind), maybe even do a bit of therapy on my foot. I have to set a plan in action; I have to grasp my second wind, well actually my first wind. The princess routine is growing really tired and the guilt that I’m feeling from having to request the smallest things continues to be frustrating. My world is so small, my requests can sometimes seem eccentric or weird but they are the smallest things that help me cope.

I despise my crutches with all senses of the word. You would be hard pressed to hear me ever saying I despise anything.  They are not my friends; they forcibly help me on my little journeys from one spot to another. They trick me sometimes with a false sense of security; they bend and twitch almost comically causing me to sway to and fro like a tightrope walker, trying to gain stability and avoid a fall. These crutches represent much more than the package deal to the cast on my foot. They are just as bored with me as I am with them. They have stripped my independence and my own humility. We continue to be bound to each other against our will. I sound like such a drama queen. 

Outside, the crickets and the soft lapping of the waves are beautiful; I fantasize about going for a swim out onto the lake. The torrential downpour on a particular afternoon only lasted a few minutes which was so disappointing; I wanted it to storm for hours. A good cleansing from Mother Nature of which I watch from my window, my chin propped up on my sofa pillows. The rain eventually stops and a flock of Blue Jays fly by screaming their familiar caw, chasing each other, happy that they can resume their play ... I look out in to the trees and will continue to count the days…