I had an encouraging day yesterday—hip-wise that is. I have noticed that I am sleeping better and getting in and out of bed with less trouble. I have decreased the amount of Tylenol from twice/day to one or none, so I told Dad that I wanted to experiment with driving.
Not be able to drive has been unpleasant. I hate the lack of independence, but it has made me even more sympathetic to Grandma, who has been openly annoyed and indignant regarding the loss of her driving privileges, and people who can never drive.
Despite being excited at finally getting my wings back, I was also worried. I was afraid that I would not be able to move my foot quickly from the gas pedal to the brake in the event of an emergency—like a bunny or a squirrel dashing out in front of my car.
So I experimented by getting behind the wheel and ever so carefully moved my foot between the two pedals and was surprised at how easy it was. There was no lifting of my leg, which was what I had imagined, but instead, just the gentle shifting of my foot.
We first drove around the block, staying within the confines of our little neighborhood and then ventured out to the bigger loop road, where the speed was higher and the distance greater. Now I felt as if I had been liberated from my shackles!
Then Dad and I moved to an exciting project, which was de-pollinating the screened porch. In the past, this has been my project, but because of my hip situation, he did the bulk of the work. This involved lots of vacuuming and moving furniture, while my job was to help him fold the covers, wet Swiffer the tile floor, and point.
Everything was going along without complications until I looked up and saw a gecko out for an afternoon stroll on the screen. I no longer fear these little green friends as long as they know their boundaries. But after the setback I experienced when I shook my leg after thinking a bug was crawling on it, I told Dad I was feeling anxious about not being alone, particularly after witnessing Gordon jump. I was positive I was in danger of dislocating my hip.
I can just imagine the call to 911 and my doctor. “How did this happen?”
“Gordon did it,” I would explain while they would look at me and shake their heads.