Moving around is getting harder and my gait is slowing quite a bit. I probably even waddle. Once I get into a sitting position, it’s hard to get out of it. I can’t lean forward, my stomach is so hard. A slight recline is probably the most comfortable position I can be in. Forget bending over while I’m standing. Not gonna happen. I now have to ask others to pick up things I’ve dropped. Oh, and since I’ve turned into a klutz, that’s quite often. I can’t hold on to the simplest things. My fingers refuse to cooperate.
This is just the way things will be for the next couple of weeks. It’s uncomfortable and inconvenient, yet I’m still okay with that.
Because as things get harder physically, they are getting a bit easier mentally. A month ago, I wanted this over with. I was done. Just DONE. In spite of my cumbersomeness (that is too a word!), I feel better than I did then. My energy level is slightly better. I’m used to feeling this way now, so I guess I’ve adjusted.
I’ve settled into waiting mode. I’m not in any rush. Wee One makes his appearance when he does, as I’ve said before. It’s funny how that has changed. Maybe the reason is this: the longer he waits, the more time I have to get ready. I am in cleaning mode now. I wondered if I’d ever get the energy back, and I have. I did several hours of laundry yesterday just to get it all out of the way (blankets and sheets and towels that just seem to get left for more pressing laundry—like underwear).
I did not know that getting housework done would actually feel satisfying. But because I feel like I’m making progress, it does. Who is this person that’s taken over my body?