My plans for the New Year were short-lived when I took a tumble on a sunken living room step and broke my Humerus bone below the shoulder. It was not at all humorous! A visit to the Guelph emergency and an orthopedic surgeon in Oakville with lots of lovely pain killers has had me laid up for the past six weeks.
When I came out of the fog of drugs and self-pity, I soon felt that I was incarcerated for whatever sin I had committed. How humbling it is to be dependent on everyone. Family, friends, and neighbors came to my rescue with food and offer to take me to appointments. I am so grateful, but as someone who has their car attached to the hip, I found it quite frustrating. Then there was the twice-weekly hose down by a lovely PSW who also helped me dress. One night I had to call a neighbor to help me out of my sweater. I was stuck. I have a new appreciation for folks that have to deal with this every day.
Having a writing partner certainly helped me with this situation. I couldn't type and was useless trying to dictate with the microphone. Liz, as always, has my back. We still managed to go ahead with our work in progress. Liz typing and me telling her my take on the story. Today was a good day when she came to visit, and we sorted out some plot scenes. Reading out loud is how we get a feel for the story and spot if anything is amiss. I would say we still have a third of the way to go. But the end is in sight.
My arm has more movement and I should be starting therapy next week. Driving I will leave another two weeks. I hope to be more creative now the heavy drugs are out of my system. Back to reading some crime mystery books and stop bingeing on Netflix.
Liz has some exciting news for you on the next blog post so stay tuned. Jamie Tremain is back and will have a new book for you in the near future.
Popular Posts Viewed This Week
I will endeavour to add the first 1000 words of "Madelaine" that I need for the upcoming workshop with Brian Henry on the 26th in ...
I cannot live without books. I've always been surrounded by books of all kind. My father, Alister William James, wrote poetry and...
Not unknown exactly, as I have reinvented myself a few times before. We take on many personas as we women go through life–daugh...
TWO months to the day since the last blog post, and we are only now starting to come out of self-isolation and restrictions here in Sout...