Despite rumors to the contrary, I am still alive and well. The hospital discharged me on Friday, and I hobbled from the wheelchair to the car to the house and haven’t ventured any further than the deck since then. Sheila is the perfect nurse. She keeps me company and shows up with a glass of water and some pills just when the pain is the greatest. She is always offering food and reminds me how important it is for me to keep up my strength. She sees her job as pushing drugs, and I don’t say no. Yesterday the nurse came as did the physical therapist. The nurse built my file with a Q&A session, and the therapist had me use huge elastics to do exercises to strengthen my back. PT will be twice a week, and the nurse will come once a week. At the end of three weeks, the decision will be whether to stop as the goals have been met or for me to begin out-patient rehab. I’m voting to stop but my vote doesn’t matter.

My friends call for updates, and Clare brought me flowers and my favorite lemon cupcake. The flowers were irises, another a favorite. It’s wonderful having my own private nurse and friends who know how to brighten my day.

If I don’t move, there is no pain. I know there’s a joke in there somewhere, but for the life of me I can’t seem to get at it. After being seated for a while, there is a struggle to get up, a noisy struggle. I moan and groan, and I’m amazed the neighbors haven’t called the police thinking I’m  being tortured.

I had a few events on my dance card this week, but I erased all of them. I figure staying at home, napping a bit and sitting on the deck will be the easiest ways for me to spend the days; however, I do admit one transgression. Last night I sneaked out front to see the Super Moon. It was beautiful, and I get to see it again tonight.

Well, I think I’m on the mend. I did manage to take a shower this morning though I was really exhausted by the time I’d finished. Being clean, though,  was worth the pain.

This is my traditional Father’s Day song.