I open my eyes. I see that the sun is shining behind the lower corner of the curtain. It must be near noon. How long I’ve been sleeping, five-six hours? Surely no more than that. I went to bed around four, no five-thirty in the morning and didn’t fall asleep right away like always. Still, five-six hours is a lot more compare to other days. It is enough to sustain me for the rest of the day. And night.
I try to sit up in my mind but I know it is just a wishful thinking; it can never happen in reality. Not anymore. So, I roll to my right side. A blinding pain tearing all the way from my neck to my toes takes my breath away. I lie panting on my bed eyes on the ceiling. Wrong move. After a while, I slide my right leg slowly till it almost hit the floor, then inch half of my body align to the leg; the rest, I keep where it is for balance. I don’t want to fall. That would be a complete disaster.
When I am sure it is okay to move, I put my other leg next to its twin and slowly slide myself out of bed using my butt as guide. My feet touch the floor, I breath a sigh of relief. Now the rest. Because going right is not an option, I twist my upper body to the left and use my left elbow as leverage. Now I’m half-way there. Putting all my weight on my left arm I push myself up to a sitting position. It works. I waited for a minute or two before standing up. Always a wise choice, otherwise I’m back to square one with more pain the ever.
I padded to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. It never fail to amaze me, my reflection. It never shows my real age nor how I feel inside, emotionally and physically. I don’t know if I’m going to be glad about it. Sometimes, I wish it shows all the pain, all the sufferings, all the feelings bottled up inside. So, I don’t have to explain and watch disbelief in people’s eyes when they ask how I am.
I reach for a tube of toothpaste and almost pass out when another bolt of pain assaulted my upper right arm. I curse in every language I know, tears rolling down my cheeks. I forget I can’t move my right arm in certain positions. In fact, it is almost useless these days. The thing is, I am right handed. Can you imagine. And yet to teach my left arm to do things for me. I know I have to one of these days.
But to today I have to brush my teeth and do so by leaning forward so low my face almost touching the sink. I proceed washing my face that way too. Sitting on the loo is another matter. Sitting on the bidet to wash my private parts is even more an ordeal. I can’t reach so far under or behind. It tears my back apart every time I feel like dying. It is like having a baby all over again without epidural.
Done with my personal hygiene, I selected a loose fitting dress to wear. Today, I’m not going anywhere. Not until somebody comes home and take me wherever I wish to be. I hate that. Becoming more and more dependent. But what choice do I have?
I lay the dress flat on the bed, lean forward and try to crawl inside. Putting it on the usual way is a big-no-no today. Some days it works when the pain is bearable, but not now. I have to remind myself to buy clothes with front buttons for occasions such as this.
Somehow I managed to dress myself up and padded downstairs. One battle won. Now, breakfast…