The word “routine,” a “habitual or mechanical performance of an established procedure,” as the Merriam-Webster dictionary specifies, perfectly describes my everyday chores. I wake up; Eric makes and gives me my meds; I eat my breakfast; the nurse aid helps me navigate through my daily exercises: speech therapy (breathing, exercising my mouth muscles, singing, and drinking), physical therapy (walking), and occupational therapy (arm and finger exercises); she prepares my lunch, I eat it, and she leaves; after she leaves, I read, write, and meditate; in the evening, Eric makes dinner, and he, Nathan, and I eat and chat; Eric makes and gives me my meds; he helps me brush and clean my teeth; he makes me a hot pack, if I need one; I meditate and fall asleep. And I repeat the same things every day, over and over. And I keep repeating them; and repeating them; and repeating them.
But when I wake up in the morning, my left leg is so tired that it can’t support me when I try to transfer to the wheel chair (my nurse aid has to be alert in case I fall); and my arm and fingers are still unable to move, so I can’t take a shower and dress by myself, or make lunch and dinner, or pick up a tray, or wash and manicure my hands; and I feel frustrated. Granted, I’m impatient, but progress is very slow. I try to remind myself of the phrase Eric made up to encourage me, “the three Ps” (be Patient, be Positive, and Push), but it doesn’t help.
When we’ve finished dinner and Eric is giving me my meds, I picture myself meditating and falling asleep, and in my mind the circle is rolling and rolling with no end in sight. And yet, I keep waking up, having my meds, and going through every part of my routine.
But when I wake up in the morning, my left leg is so tired that it can’t support me when I try to transfer to the wheel chair (my nurse aid has to be alert in case I fall); and my arm and fingers are still unable to move, so I can’t take a shower and dress by myself, or make lunch and dinner, or pick up a tray, or wash and manicure my hands; and I feel frustrated. Granted, I’m impatient, but progress is very slow. I try to remind myself of the phrase Eric made up to encourage me, “the three Ps” (be Patient, be Positive, and Push), but it doesn’t help.
When we’ve finished dinner and Eric is giving me my meds, I picture myself meditating and falling asleep, and in my mind the circle is rolling and rolling with no end in sight. And yet, I keep waking up, having my meds, and going through every part of my routine.
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