Panic in Spaulding Rehab

I got out of the big fat surgery 13 days ago. I transferred into Spaulding Rehab seven days and change ago. During that time, I haven’t seen any appreciable gain in movement in my left leg. I still can't walk. Dammit.

In fact there's no increase — nada, niente, nichts, fuck all. This is disappointing to say the bloody least. Yes, I‘m being impatient. You expected something else from yurs truly? I’d just like a little sign that I’ll walk again, that I’ll, once again, be able to climb the 19 steps from our driveway to the bedroom.

I’m a planner. If walking’s NOT gonna be possible, I’m gonna need to make some serious changes to Valhalla. I’ll need to add a small bedroom, with tiny-can, to the first floor. Remember, Valhalla’s a small cottage — one step up from a mini-home. I imagine there are zoning hoops I gotta jump through before I can even think about engaging an architect/builder. This is gonna take big bucks IF it’s even possible.

So, last night and this morning to some degree are all about the the big dread.

Panic, by the by, is not only counterproductive it’s flat out stupid. It accomplishes nothing so I’m trying to breathe deep and chill the fuck out.

IF movement doesn’t come back enough to get up to the second floor of my cozy home, I have options. I’m a creative sort as is Ten. We’ll figure this shit out. No, it won’t be cheap or easy but leaving Valhalla isn’t a viable option. This is my home.