It’s late, tonight, and I’m about to go to bed, but I wanted to jot
down a few notes:
I’m full of cakes my mom made and sushi she didn’t make,
eaten in that order. White chocolate and passion fruit together
always makes me flash back to my wedding day. It’s a great
association.
The folks at Helen Hayes have successfully lobbied the insurance
company for another week of fine-tuning, so I’ll be discharged
from here next weekend: March 7th. Exactly 2 months to the day
after being admitted. I’m mostly ready now, and I think I’ll
definitely be ready to go in a week.
I’ll be heading down to New York City both days this weekend. My
PT and I have done a lot of work on my crutch skills this past
week, and my PT has asked me to do as much of my maneuvering and
travel on my crutches as possible. Put another way: I’m to stay out of
the wheelchair unless I’m falling over tired… or falling over.
If you had told me 8 weeks ago I’d be standing upright when I
left this place, I’d have laughed out loud.
Also, the loaner wheelchair that insurance has provided is a
cheap, uncomfortable chair more suited to being pushed than
self-locomotion, so I’ll have plenty of motivation to use it only
when necessary.
Yesterday was the first day I believe I really started feeling
guardedly optimistic about how my recovery might continue.
Kate, our parents, and a cast of thousands have completed the
apartment move, minus some small unpacking and rearranging
left to be done. According to the reports I got, it went awesomely
smoothly and Kate didn’t have to lift a thing.
I have the best friends in all the world. The calls, visits,
collaborative miracles, and love keep flowing in.
And in exciting maybe news, maybe not, Kate thinks she might have
felt some motion in her abdomen… but isn’t sure. Watch this
space for further action.
So all in all, I feel like a very lucky guy tonight.