Yesterday's trip home was a dream comparing it to the last one. This is an ambulette service that the hospital uses so I felt good about that -- that they needed to keep the hospital happy and not just one individual. The driver was an older Russian man named Illya and he was wonderful. He helped with all the luggage and then helped as I went up the dreaded STAIRS outside.
I got my foot on the first step ( 10 inches) and could not lift myself up. Mary was there and I said to her to do whatever she had to do to shove my ass up that step. Well she later told me she just sort of worked as a block so I couldn't move backward, but wasn't pushing me forward. She reminded me that the first was the worst.
Then I did the next two, the next step and there were three to go. Illya came and held out his hand so I could push up against the railing and he pulled my hand. He kept saying, "Take your time" but I am overly aware that -- well, in my mind, he and Mary are thinking "how the hell long is she going to take?" when that is nowhere in their minds. I would say it took me two minutes or less to make it up the stairs. I felt like giving myself a medal.
So Mary got me settled in; I laid down around 3 to 5, just with Mary there and the TV on quietly and I probably slept for 15 minutes. Mary left around 6 and I was OK on my own.
Got groceries this morning (delivered).... I didn't mention that Marilyn came by yesterday and went out and got all my prescriptions filled and Mary left today about 2, but couldn't get on a train until 6 -- we'd forgotten about the holiday weekend.
How do I feel? I feel emotionally battered (still) and just weary. Physically I feel tired, but am doing what I need to do to take care of myself. I remind myself that each day it should get better.
Thank you to everyone who remembered me in thoughts, prayers, sent me stuff, helped me in 100 different ways. I appreciate it.