WIGGLING MY FINGERS IN THE WIND in Postcards 4

  • March 2, 2017, 5:02 p.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.


Loading comments...

You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.