Tuesday, September 18, 2012

And the stir crazy starts...

If you know me or you're a frequent reader, you know that I am not a person who sits still. And though I enjoy the rare days when I get to stay in my pajamas all day and snuggle with my boys and my fuzzes or when I get away by myself for a few days each year, I'm not a person who often finds comfort in lying about.

I'm restless. I have no idea how to sit still. It's one of the reasons I've always liked working with little kids. They move -- until they collapse at nap time -- they recharge with a purpose and then are up and ready to live life to the fullest.

It's now a complete five days after my surgery. This is the longest I can ever remember being "sick." Usually by now I'd have beaten the flu or pneumonia or gotten over strep throat.

But I still have 4 weeks left to my non-weight bearing status, and I talk to people about 30-60 minutes a day. I don't get many things done because the pain meds make it hard to focus. So I've been watching a lot of Netflix. I'm almost finished with Seasons 1-4 of Mad Men. I'm not even excited about the show. It's just something new, and if I fall asleep, I don't feel like I miss much.

Tonight, Lily opened the back door. X-man noticed and shut it and then immediately told MacTroll and I. While X-man was in the shower, MacTroll went on a cat count. Clawdio was missing.

I kept hearing this noise of a cat on plastic, so I thought he might have snuck down and crawled under my bed in the basement. I called MacTroll down, but he wasn't there. Then after he left, I heard the noise again, and I remembered how in our old house, if Clawdio managed to sneak out, he'd stand under the porch directly under the open door where I was calling for him meowing. He wanted me to take him in, but I couldn't reach him because he was under the porch. He had to walk out from underneath it to get back inside.

So I looked out my basement window, and I swore I heard cat paws on plastic. He had been lying on top of the plastic covering staring at me. I sent MacTroll out for him. But the elderly black cat ran past the door and the other way. At this point, MacTroll is getting frustrated, because he knows Clawdio only like me.

So, I crawled on my hands and knees up the stairs with one crutch. I pulled myself to the back door on my butt and I called. But there was nothing. I insisted the cat was in the raspberry bush. MacTroll felt differently. "He's black. He's scared. And it's Dark. But he's there. Trust me."

Five minutes later, he saw him and flushed him out. Clawdio ran, but Lily chased him rather than herded him around the back of the hot tub. I managed to get Lily into the house and then I stood on one leg while Clawdio ran back to the lighted plastic covering over the basement window well. He let out a meow of defeat and MacTroll scooped him into his arms.

Then I started going back down to the basement. By the time I got down there my left glutes were sore from standing on one leg and my right quad was sore from heaving around the cast.

A dilemma, that had I been healthy, would have taken three minutes and maybe me getting a couple small scrapes from a raspberry bush.

My child doesn't come down to say goodnight any more. I eat most of my meals alone. I've gotten a couple nice visitors and calls. But I don't know how to answer the "How are you feeling?" question. Sometimes it hurts like hell. Sometimes it's just annoying. And sometimes, I've been asleep for so long, my brain can't process how it feels.

I know bed rest isn't easy for anyone. I've always crossed my fingers and hoped to avoid it. But now I'm stuck with it, so I better try to make the best of it.

One thing's for sure. I'm not going to crawl back upstairs for a while, so I hope that all the cats stay inside.

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