Some Assembly Required

Photo by Tekton on Unsplash

Many of us out there spent more than one night before a child's birthday or Christmas putting together complicated toys for the next day. The box and the instructions always said "Some Assembly Required," which really meant "Anticipate far more steps, tiny pieces, and inscrutable instructions than you have ever seen."

That's how I feel about myself as I move forward as "the woman who lives afterwards." 

Some items/issues/whatever are resolved. I just completed in-home physical therapy today, way ahead of schedule. I speak with the surgeon Monday about the next step (removing the gallbladder, which has never been an issue but needs to come out per every single doctor who has ever seen the image or read the reports on it). The living room is no longer my bedroom (yes, that was the reality of the initial homecoming, as I could not climb the stairs—all 13 of them—to the second floor). In short, life moves on.

And yet...I am still picking up tiny bolts and saying, "But where does this go?" or "Wasn't there a special tool included in this package?" 

I am still assembling myself.

My friend Tani and I exchanged lengthy letters over the summer about accepting the reality of being disabled; we are are now discussing being OLD. Myeloma and 19 years of treatment had already aged me. This recent medical catastrophe just added to that. As I told my physical therapist as we concluded my last session, I know I have to be more patient with myself as I continue to regain muscle mass and physical strength, but I also have to be realistic about how far I can push myself. Some of that is recovery, which will go on for many weeks; some of that is age.

But I am walking again, as in "outside," and that is an absolute gift. 

Picking up some threads from my past, I may (possibly, likely, maybe) pick up tracking our food expenses again. That all came to a halt in August. I "could" have resumed tracking for November, when I was home again, but I lacked energy, capacity, and bandwidth to even try. December...maybe. I look back at my post on July 1 where I ask whether July can be lean and am pleased to report that July was lean: either $115.61 or $157.57.  The discrepancy is that in July, per both my oncologists' offices, I started drinking one or more protein drinks a day, and those run around $20.00 a box. It is food; it is not medication. BUT Warren doesn't drink them and it is so specialized that...you can see where I am going. 

I am both stepping away and back into some of my volunteer activities with our community legal clinics. Yes, I will stay with the Justice Bus project as an attorney wrangler; no, I have turned over a court/clinic joint project to other volunteers. 

I am reading a lot. A lot. (Best fiction read recently? The Berry Pickers by Amanda Peters. Just stunning.) I may (may, mind you) take up some long set-aside personal projects, although I think my initial focus around here is on getting rid of more of my/our clutter. (We have three types of clutter in this house: His, Hers, Ours.) I am not writing yet except for letters, some inserts into my long-gestational novel, and this, my second blog post post-catastrophe. 

It will come. I say that with hope.

In the meantime, some assembly required. Where did that little must-have-to-complete-assembly tool go?