So Long, 2012

On Christmas Eve in 2011, we all stayed home together, my husband, the children, and I.  I had only been out of the hospital for a couple of days, and wasn't strong enough or steady enough on my feet to try going to my husband's family for the usual Eve festivities.

On Christmas Eve in 2012, we piled into the car and drove the forty-five or so minutes to a cousin's house, where my husband and I did our patented arm-lock dance to hold my balance while my legs did all the work of getting me up three stairs into their home.  Then, without stopping to sit and rest, I sent my husband to the other side of the room, and asked his cousin to hold my canes for a moment.  Then I walked over to my husband and gave him a hug and a kiss, and said, "Merry Christmas."  I hadn't held onto anything at all.  Just walked.  Granted, it was pretty shaky and not entirely stable.  I hadn't counted on how tough the three stairs coming in would be.  But it was 10-12 feet of unassisted walking nonetheless.  We both cried.  Happy crying, which by great effort we've done about as much of as unhappy crying in 2012.

On New Year's Eve in 2011, we sat at home, as we're doing tonight, watching movies and making anything-we-want-on-them sundaes.  I got up from the couch and walked to the dining room table for dessert with the family, and then went back to the couch, with great difficulty.  We were telling ourselves my legs were just having a couple of weak days, and that the next day I would surely wake up feeling stronger again, but it would be the last time I would walk for four months.  The next day, New Year's day, I could barely stand in the morning, and every time I had to go to the commode was a three-person production.  Monday was the observed holiday, so I had no therapy that day, but I was still in denial and didn't call the off-hours nurse.  It just wasn't possible that I could be losing my legs again, I just had to wake up stronger the next morning... 

That Monday I couldn't stand at all.  We were resorting to sliding from one seat to another and wriggling my clothes up and down my legs each time I had to go potty.  It was miserable, but not as miserable as seeing my nurse the next morning, and having her gently explain that this wasn't some inconsequential weakness, that I really ought to go back to the hospital and get checked out.  I'd just spent 8 weeks in the hospital, the last thing in the world I wanted was to go back there after only being home scarcely more than a week.  

That Tuesday was the beginning of what would be an 87 day incarceration including surgery, radiation, therapy, and far too much loneliness and homesickness.  But it was a worthy road to have walked, to reach the place I am today, at home, with my family, watching movies and eating ice cream, and bragging to my husband how I walked to the kitchen and got my own water refill yesterday.

Here's to 2012, a long road that had to be traversed by any means necessary, by wheel, by walker, by cane, by foot.  And here's to 2013, may it be a little easier on all of us.