Nikki welcomed me home with wild abandon and never settled down for a good photo…but wouldn’t get more than a few steps away from the entry hall closet. More on that later.I moved back home last Monday, an event wonderful and bittersweet at the same time. I was sad to be leaving Mom and her wide, spacious house with everything on one floor (and I truly miss the companionship). And I was a tad nervous at the thought of living with lots of stairs, slopes, and resuming caretaker status for two rambunctious cats who can make Nirvana-in-a-hotel-room look like a genteel ladies’ tea party.

OTOH, Lola and Nikki were gratifyingly ecstatic to have me back (with a LOT of caveats I’ll discuss later) and it was nice to be cozied up in bed with a tummy-kitty.

On Friday night, Sept. 16, 2016, I fractured my left femur just above Elmo, my replacement knee. I lived in a wheelchair, facing hip-high amputation of my left leg, for about two years while I fought health care bureaucracy, cost-conscious HMOs, and myself to figure out a way to walk again. (Spoiler alert: Elmo won!)

I documented my adventures in remobilization in this blog. They’re awfully self-indulgent, occasionally icky, and probably only of interest to me, but on the off-chance that they help someone else with a catastrophic injury, I’m keeping them together here. If you don’t want to read them, that’s OK; I still love you. If you do, you might want to start from the beginning, on the archive page that lists all posts.


Lola, on the other hand, did her level best to make me stay PUT.

The neighbors were more than welcoming; Kim brought over a spare walker (I now have five) and Mason’s family set up a regular walk-by check-in.

Apple, my wonderful contractor, had carefully watched my movements through the house on our test runs. Pretty much without asking he started installing grab bars, testing out shower benches, clearing obstacles, and positioning himself behind me on the stairs for my first shaky attempts to go up.

But Bob and Rox…not even sure how to describe all they’ve done for me. They took over care of Nikki and Lola when the house-sitter turned out to be a disaster and nearly killed Nikki. Bob prodded my eight-month’s dead Camry Hybrid back to life, then patiently did a whole day of legwork to restore its tags when Rox noticed its expired registration.

packing up to go hoe

Amazing how much stuff you can accumulate in 8 months, especially when you take up a new artform…

They cheerfully hauled and sorted and packed and tossed, readying the entire house for habitation again, and clearing out rooms needed by contractors and such.

Rox picked up groceries, cleaned out the fridge and restocked; Bob took pictures of contractor work-in-progress, fetched my mail, gave me a tour of his (wonderful) studio, and offered to set up a wheelchair-friendly area to allow me to do glass again (my own studio is still off-limits).

And then Mom, Hector and Dave (the movers), Apple, Nathan, Bob, Rox, and me brought me…home.