On Wednesday night Adrian brought me home, carefully helping me maneuver over the ice, where I was greeted by my two sons and four cats. After being gone for two and a half weeks, everyone was glad to see me, especially the cats. It was so nice to see my kids, but so sad leaving Adrian's care and companionship. He had meticulously done my laundry and packed my bags. We had long faces at the prospect of my not staying there any longer, and he was worried about how I would do at home, but he had gotten me through the most difficult part of my recovery, and now I was going to try to go it alone. It hasn't been a huge success. Dylan said to me last night, "Mom, you seem worse tonight than when you first came home." Something about the stairs, the stairs, the stairs. And standing on my feet to prepare meals (mine or his) causes quite a bit of pain. And did I mention the stairs? My kids are of some help but have their own lives, jobs, school, etc. My dear friend Bruckie came over yesterday and brought me a sandwich. My daughter came over last night to eat dinner and watch a movie. But somehow, I'm doing poorly. My pain level has increased quite a bit, and today I feel a flare up of fibromyalgia coming on, and I haven't had one in quite a while. I'm thinking I may have to go back to Adrian's, at least for a few days. I'll see how today goes and talk it over with Dylan and his dad.
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