Home sweet Home!! But sadly, not for good. We took a therapy pass home for a trial run today. We figured it would be better to test out all the doorways, couches, bed, and so forth, BEFORE moving back home. And to our pleasant surprise, everything is perfect. Almost. The wheelchair just can’t get into our master closet or the guest bathroom. But so what?! Nick can’t go relax in the closet! At least he can get on and off the couch, on and off our bed, and in and out of our bedroom door. Success!
This was the first time Nick has been home in seven and a half weeks. It’s been four weeks since I’ve been there. And this time the house felt alive! Nick was there, and we were happy. Several weeks ago, when I went home to grab some clothes before going to the rehab facility, our house felt dead. Lifeless. I did NOT like being there. But today it felt different. There was excitement in the air. A sense of anticipation. Only a few more days until we get to sleep in our own bed, use our own toilet, watch the sunset from our porch, cuddle with the doggies at bedtime, and have privacy! Ah yes, privacy. I can hardly wait to be reacquainted with you.
I have good news and bad news. The good news is: Nick attempted to tell another fictional story about his accident to a total stranger. The bad news is: He used the stupid “attacked by a bear” story, cracked a huge smile, and blew it! I’m waiting for him to bust out this gem, in complete seriousness, “What do you mean, ‘What happened to me?’”
Since we were out and about today, I was reminded of a major pet-peeve of mine that hasn’t come up in years. I used to push my Mom around in her wheelchair all the time. She was a lot weaker than Nick, so I did all the work. I got frustrated and angry a lot, mainly because I was young, but also because, well, it was hard work taking care of her for so many years. Whenever we would approach an entry or exit door, it was very rare that people would hold the door for us. Infact, more often than not, people would walk in in front of us and literally allow the door to shut right at Mom’s feet. Intentional or completely unaware, it didn’t matter to me. How rude! That was my biggest pet-peeve. How difficult is it to glance over your shoulder to see if someone is behind you, and then stop to hold the door, for ten seconds? The sheer akwardness of holding a door that swings outward, while pushing or pulling a wheelchair through, is frustrating enough, without someone allowing it to shut right in front of you. Anyway, that didn’t happen to us today. In fact, people see Nick’s nubs coming and they jump to grab the door for us! They take one look at Nick Fener and they know right away that he is a bad ass mother f’er. If they shut the door on him, they’re going to get a stump in the ass!