WIGGLING MY FINGERS IN THE WIND in Postcards 4

  • March 3, 2017, 8:02 a.m.
  • |
  • Public


February 26: Golden light and incoming storm.


February 23: They took me with more questions about my breathing, and they let me have G’s company until the last few minutes. I awoke to a thick wrapping of bandages on my left hand, and a football on my right. I thought I could tough it out with Tylenol. Not. Two Percocet’s put me out for the next two days.

February 24: George bought a bidet. It worked well with even one pill in me morning and night. Learning how to live using my left hand became all important. Napped all day. I curled up and skimmed books under my quilt. Mindlessly. Between too many meals. He spoiled me.

February 25: Began making big inroads into the giant bag of donated mysteries discovering along the way that I couldn’t be friendly with CIA hero types. One long nap. Trying to eat less. Trying not to have himself pull up my pant layers.

February 26: Found I could type with one finger; that I could stay awake long enough to read blogs and world news. Started a small photo project…taking a photo a day from my nest of pillows. Tylenol 3 times a day while holding my hands above heart level and wiggling my fingers to reduce the swelling.


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