Today was a typical day.
I've been unable to work. It’s been a month and a half since the last time I was able to go to the daycare and play with the kids; since I was able to read them a story before nap or lead them in a circle time activity. I’m starting to really miss it. I miss watching Billy enter the room with a smile on his face, wearing his new work boots and fire fighter hat, ready to show off his cool outfit. I miss listening to Beckah tell me I should shave my beard; that I’d look better with no beard. I miss the hugs and high fives and their innocence. It’s one thing to be off of work for a week—even if you’re sick—it’s sometimes nice to just have that relaxation time. I, however, have been out of work for six weeks with hardly anything to do. I can’t drive, I can’t watch television, I can’t listen to music; my life is a bore.
For a couple of weeks, I was doing a lot of writing. I was working on projects for thescifichristian.com as well as some short story ideas which have yet to really pan out. But after a while, I began to immerse myself in reading. It’s practically all I do now. In the past month, I’ve read a fantasy trilogy by Andy Remic, Joe Abercrombie’s First Law trilogy (currently on a fourth by him), The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins, and The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. I guess you could say I’ve been catching up on my leisure reading—which I was mostly unable to take advantage of while still in school.
Sarah worked from home today—as she does most Mondays—and I woke up with her.
“Can I make you some breakfast?” I asked.
“Baby, you don’t have to do that. You should rest.”
“I can do it. I need to get up and be a somewhat active,” I assured her.
She tilted her head and gave a sympathetic frown.
I made banana pancakes and hot coffee. It felt good to be able to do even that slight task. Sarah seemed to really enjoy the food, which gave me a sense of accomplishment. I was doing a little something for her in the midst of her dedicating day after day to helping me. She makes light of her responsibilities and jokes around that she may as well get hired as a personal assistant with all the driving, calling and faxing she does for me.
When I was all finished I picked up my book, The Heroes, and read for hours.
Just before lunch, I figured it would be a good idea to do my physical therapy exercises. I’m supposed to do them two times a day. It has been almost two weeks since I began, and I’m starting to notice a small change in my ability to focus on things while moving about. The exercises themselves are still quite difficult. I struggle through them, doing my best not to get too aggravated, but it’s hard. I usually do them in the kitchen, away from Sarah’s work desk, in hopes that she won’t look away from her computer at my abysmal attempts to stay balanced. Not only is it frustrating to not be able to stand up straight and steady, but it can also be somewhat embarrassing.
After lunch, I opened my book again. I feel badly that reading is all I do. I’m sure it looks to Sarah as though
I don’t spend enough time with her. She’d be probably be right, too; however, there are a very limited amount of things that I am capable of doing at this point—which is hard for me as a man. I can’t do things around the house without feeling dizzy or overwhelmingly tired; I can’t watch movies with her; I can’t drive her anywhere. All I have to keep me sane and to help me to not think about my situation as much are books. So I keep on reading. This has become my ordinary day.