in the road, Reader Dear. It was only to be expected.
There I was, plowing ahead, re-conquering the skills I had gained as a toddler (you know--chewing food, walking). Except for the monumental sleep issue (morning, noon and night, desperate for more of the glorious shut-eye), I was feeling pretty good about my progress!
I was getting lots of visitors, many of them raving about my good looks (You wouldn't believe it, Reader Dear! Compliments abounded! "Wow, you look terrific!"
(Now, I do not recommend the necessary death/life thing* as a way to improve one's looks; but, it's a fact: Anyone who's seen you languishing on a death bed, and consequently views you again a few weeks later is very likely to be astounded at how good-looking you are! They will tell you so, often and emphatically!*
*I really have no way to know, but I'm guessing it works better than Botox!
However, then came Monday morning. My newly-evolving routine was to get up and single-handedly (awkwardly, laboriously) wash and dress myself in (mostly) comfortable street clothes. I was already fantasizing about waving farewell to the rehab facility! On this morning, I was seated at the sink with a warm, wet washcloth to my face--ahhh, heavenly! It was such a pleasure to wash my face! I was making such good progress! I couldn't, however, shake off an uncomfortable feeling in my upper torso.
"I have kind of a bad feeling in my chest," I complained to the morning nurse when she returned. "But it's not terrible. I'm hoping it will go away soon." There were a few questions in response. Then she left the room. Ten minutes later an EMT* showed up at my door!
(Emergency Medical Technician [with a gurney in tow]).
"We're taking you to the hospital!" the nurse explained.
Right about then, Reader Dear, is when I snatched back that award I'd bestowed upon myself (title of Wonder Woman) such a short time ago!
"There's no way, you cry baby, that you deserve that title," I told myself, with tears streaming down my checks. (Dear Reader, it's not an easy thing to say to someone, especially when they're being carted off to the hospital for God-knows-what kind of treatment, and they've been reminding themselves over and over how they never want to see the inside of a hospital again (at least not atop a gurney), please, please, please, never!)