The Morning Routine

At the sink in the bathroom, I am so messy and clumsy because I hold my weight on one leg and lean on the wall. Ignoring pain, I wash up. That means the floor gets wet. I drop a towel or drop a crutch. The floor is no-man's land. Once something falls, it is gone until another mobile bi-ped can come to the rescue.

With the rubber of my crutches stuck into my armpits, I concentrate on the location of the things I need.  Everything must be within reach. How do I carry a bottle of shampoo with both my hands holding crutches?

I left everything I needed at the bathroom sink: toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, facial soap. But someone moved the mouthwash back to the linen closet. And the toilet paper is out. Oh well, I try to do what I can do and go on.  If I take too long at the sink washing up, my "good" leg starts talking to me.

Fatigue is my saboteur. Sometimes I have to go back to bed to rest between the bathroom and the kitchen. At the kitchen I wash my hair over the sink, careful not to bump my left leg. Right leg is screaming "Why do I have to do all the heavy lifting?" My younger family members assure me I will build quads, gluts and triceps.

All I want to grow is a left patella.

Hubby-dear must hug my middle while I stand on one leg and lift both my arms to towel dry my hair. (I think this part is romantic. I look forward to washing my hair tomorrow morning.)

Towels. If you don't spread them out they will sour. I am using up a lot of towels  in my personal hygiene. I can't leave them on the floor and I can't carry them. I'm out of breath from the exertion of standing like the Karate Kid. I'll think about the towels later.

My wash up time in the morning is quick and in stages. I've become more efficient.  After washing my hair, I swing myself on my crutches over to the table to where my makeup bag awaits. Hubby-dear makes me coffee.