With feet entangled, pressing the foot-board, cramped back, buttocks sore, we greet the new day two hours after the last time we lay awake. It is now four o'clock, yet darker than it was wen I got into bed.
Twist and grope for call-light button. It is always there, yet never quite where it was before. Found. Pushed. And some time later, tap-tap on the door.
"I want out of bed."
Cheery little girl who a year ago was looking forward to the Senior Prom untangles my feet, twists legs to hang over the edge of the bed. Drains bag, washes hands, watches solicitously as I stand and move feet carefully until backs of the legs touch recliner's front. I Sit. She tucks my feet, makes up the bed, makes sure the call button is at my hand.
And I am alone. Three hours until breakfast which will be long after the buttocks hurt from sitting and three hours until dawn's early light.
This is the first of the pieces I wrote in my notebook. This morning the handwriting seems, though my own, almost illegible. Time has passed, sometimes tediously, and I am much better. Two days later the hideous recliner was replaced by a new one! Much better. Now on Friday (2/19) the PT released me to move about my room and to roam the halls without supervision!