I’m awake before anyone else, which is unusual. Rob and I typically wake up when the smurf down the hall runs in and dive-bombs our bed, demanding things like breakfast or our phones. But today, silence at 7:30am. The first thing I have to do is take my medicine, so I use the bed rail to roll myself over and grab for the little container. My hands shake slightly, but I’m able to open it and wrestle out a pill. Then I drop the whole thing. Pills everywhere. I feel bad for the noise, but that’s about it. I’m used to dropping things.

I have a system down for getting myself out of bed. It doesn’t always work, but today is a good day. First, I use my arms to push my legs out of bed. Then I grip the bed rail with one hand while pushing the rest of my body up with my other elbow. It’s slow going, but I’m sitting, and that’s the hardest part. From there, I push off once more on the bed rail and come to a standing position so that I can angle myself into my wheelchair.

Rolling over in bed makes me think of Scarlett as a baby, doing her tummy time and learning to flip her body around. She was so frustrated by her initial inability to do it, and she would work really hard, grunting and turning red. It’s a shock to realize that I don’t have the rolling ability of a three-month-old. But I console myself with the knowledge that my hair is SO much better than a baby’s. I mean, no contest. Read More>