Month: March 2025

While I can roll the wheelchair around the house, I can’t get outside unless it’s for a medical reason. We have a flagstone walkway in the front of the house and it’s exactly the right size to make wheelchair wheels land in gravel. I can’t get to the back patio because the back door is too narrow to get a wheelchair through. Getting outside through the garage is not a one-person operation. First, I have to do what I can to hold the door open while Jim backs me through the door. I have to go through backwards because there’s a tiny 1″ bump under the door. That 1″ might as well be the Great Wall of China. Then, there’s a 3″ step that Jim has to back me down. He made a ramp to make getting up and down that step easier. Then Jim has to get me over a small bump under the overhead garage door. I can’t navigate any of these bumps by myself.

The claret cup cactus are blooming, and I could only glance at the blooms on my way in and out of the car before and after we got covid boosters.

With this much hardware in my foot, I’m not about to go walking around until my doctor says I can. No photography. No sewing. No cleaning out the junk room. No baking. If we do go somewhere, I have to make sure I don’t drink anything so I don’t have to use a bathroom. I’ve discovered the hard way that the handicap stall in public restrooms doesn’t accommodate wheelchairs.

Bathing is a two-person process. Jim wraps my foot and leg in a garbage bag and cling wrap to keep water out. That’s what the doctor recommended after he explained those “water tight” boots aren’t water tight – they are water resistant. I use a tub chair and hang my fiberglass encased foot over the edge of the bathtub. It is not fun. It’s cold. Because we’re using the hose with the shower head attached, there’s time when I’m wet, but no hot water is rolling over me. I’m cold most of the time because I’m less active. Wet and cold sucks. Jim has to help me bathe and help me dry off. Then, he gets to help me get dressed. After 5 weeks, he’s become expert at getting my socks off and on and getting my pants off and on. I can put on and take off my tee shirt by myself.

In theory, the cast comes off April 1. I’m hoping I can get my foot wet. If I can, the shower curtain gets put up and I can take a shower by myself.

Spring in southern New Mexico lasts only a tiny time. By the time I can go outside by myself, the spring cactus flowers will be gone.

I haven’t been able to drive since mid-December. The last time I had to give up driving for a few months, the peripheral neuropathy progressed to the point where it’s hard for me to feel the gas and brake pedals. I’m terrified that I won’t be able to feel them at all when I can finally be independent again.

And so I sit here feeling sorry for myself and being afraid of the future. Bleah.

There’s a quilt in here somewhere, but so far, I can’t see it.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

I saw the doctor on Tuesday. I thought sure I’d be told I could get my foot wet. If I can get my foot wet I can give myself a shower. But nooooooooo. I got a hard fiberglass cast that will stay on for 4 weeks.

This thing needs bling! The hideous orange color on my toe nails is betadine.

My husband still has to help me undress, wrap my foot in a garbage bag, wrap enough Saran Wrap around my leg to keep the bag on and to seal out water. Then, I get to hoist myself onto the tub chair, scoot all the way over, leave my right leg hanging out of the tub. Jim gets to handle the shower head that’s on a hose. Wet, get very cold very fast, soap up, wash hair, rinse, get very cold very fast, Jim turns off the water and hands me a towel.

If you have a son or two, grandson or two, or you are of the male persuasion, get a Barbie doll and play with it. Never mind the sexist crap. This is important. If you can get boots on a Barbie doll, you can get my sock onto my foot. Jim has to help me dress. I can get on my tee shirt. I cannot get my pants on. Right after I had surgery, Jim went to Walmart and bought me 3 pairs of pants. I haven’t bought clothes in more than 25 years. I’ve no idea what size I am. Jim found three pairs of knit pants that have elastic waists and wide legs. He gets my pants on over my cast and helps me pull up my pants.

If I brace myself on the counter and balance on my good foot, I can brush my teeth,

I used to walk into the bathroom, take care of why I went into the bathroom, wipe, wash my hands, and be done. Now, I wheel myself into the bathroom. I line up my wheelchair with my adult potty chair, I do my business. Wiping is difficult because the seat on the potty chair is much smaller than the seat on a toilet. I’ve got adult diapers for when I can’t wheel fast enough. I’ve got the most wonderful invention – an ass wiper. That’s not its name. If you put “assistive devices” into the search on Amazon, you will be taken to a whole page of ass wipers. Mine folds up and has a travel case so I can wipe my ass if I need to use a bathroom during the few outings I have. I have Huggies non-scented baby wipes because they had the best price. I thought I had enough baby wipes to last through this broken foot misery, but Jim discovered baby wipes remove oil paint from hands. I’m not sure what that says about baby wipes other than I won’t have to worry about leftover baby wipes when I can again use the big girl potty otherwise known as a toilet. Meanwhile, Jim still has to empty the pot every time I go. I’m usually healthy, but today I’ve got the trots. The Hershey squirts. The Urgencies. The runs. You get the idea. As miserable as that is when you can use the big girl toilet, it’s far worse when you are stuck using the adult potty chair.

When I was little, I would go places with my grandparents. They didn’t have much money, so we went for Sunday drives. My grandmother always packed a roll of toilet paper and the pot from the potty chair. Portable peeing at its best. Now, I’m 72 and I’ve got a big potty chair. No, I am not taking the pot from the chair when we need to go someplace. If I get that close to the ground, I’m not sure I can get back up.

When I came home from the hospital, I was assured by hospital folks that I could use a folding walker and hop up to the toilet. I tried. One hop and I was on the floor. Jim had a hard time getting me back up (I could put no weight on my right foot). When Jim went out to buy groceries the next morning he came home with an adult potty chair.

I can’t get my wheelchair into my sewing room. For one, the door isn’t wide enough . For another, it’s crowded in there with my cutting table, my sewing table, my ironing board….. There will be no sewing for the duration. But my embroidery machine didn’t fit on the sewing table so it’s on a table in the bedroom. I can, thanks to an ultra wide door, get into the bedroom. All my stabilizers are in the bedroom. All my threads are in the bedroom. I bought and downloaded patterns for FSL earrings. Of course, the earring findings are in the sewing room. But at least I can create something. I can talk Jim through finding my earring findings in the sewing room and failing that, I can buy earring findings at Michaels. I can make earrings. I can rig something up in my office so I can do product photography. I can put these earrings into my online store,http://www.DebThumanArt.com. I intended to raise the prices to accommodate rising shipping costs, but I haven’t done that yet. So, take advantage of a bargain and visit my store.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman