I am healing but slowly and I have another six weeks in the sling. I am not allowed to do anything with my right arm, which is impossible, but I certainly got a lecture about how it will screw up my tendons and ligaments and rotator cuff if I don’t keep it in the sling. The discharge instructions should have included :How to wash your oxters: and didn’t, but I now know how.
Just found out that a friend is being assaulted on a regular basis by one of her children. Well, that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.
I am having a lot of trouble with motivation, and I have one memorial service behind me and another in front of me, so at least I’ve keeping busy. And the one thing about being dead is that your amount of motivation doesn’t really matter. I’d prefer to be lacklustre than dead, fer sure.
I watched the video of me falling. It was unpleasant, but at least I know now that despite the incredible pain I was in, I didn’t go far wrong in guessing how long it was before the ambulance came. And while I was waiting, and sweating like a horse, and crying, and cursing, and yelling, and moaning, I thought about the post apocalypse, which would have involved me walking until I found help.
Yes, I’m sure lucky.