Almost didn't know what to do with myself.
It's gorgeous out today, and of course, I'm missing you-know-who, He Who Can Not Be Tamed. But we're enjoying the spring, too, being alive, having each other.
Here's my sweetheart, sling and all, riding the trainer.
Joe has been robbed by the accident sustained two weeks ago, robbed of fitness and strength and feeling good, robbed of time on the bike, robbed of time in the garden and beekeeping. It's challenging as hell for someone who does not have a taste for idleness (unlike myself) to have movement limited to maybe-i'll-sit-on-the-couch-propped-up-on-this-mountain-of-pillows or maybe-i'll-sit-on-the-bed-propped-up-on-this-mountain-of-pillows. You know I'd be kicking it with a pile of books, delighted to be still and quiet and adventuring in my mind. For Action Man, not so much.
Let's be clear, riding the trainer is a challenge. Poor right lung!
Class was great, and now I'm home, a bit stunned at how late it is, and about to leave for the nursery on our quest for red ferns to plant around Jasper's little grave site. Oh missing him so much today.
Since the accident two weeks ago, we've been keeping a little notebook. OK, I've been keeping it, either interviewing Joe or making notes as I observe things or he says them aloud. Keeping track of the many impacts on his happiness and life of that stupid car turning directly into his path. It's our Pain and Suffering log, all of ways in which he, and we, can't live our lives to our usual fullest because of the injuries he sustained.
And there are many impacts.
Still, as usual, we're plugged into what's important. I am so grateful that Joe is OK, that he's recovering and that although he is extremely constrained by his skeletal and organ damage, that he's himself. That he's him.
That's a lot to be grateful for.
XX
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