The view from my sofa…

by | Feb 17, 2015 | Blog, Life Lessons | 0 comments

I have done a few of these “View From…” posts over the years.  One from my treadmill and one from my spin bike.  This post, sadly, is from my sofa.  I am three weeks post-op on this bunion-ectomy and I am so cagey and frustrated. I know even as I type this that I should not be complaining but truth be told, I want to whine a bit.

My sofa and I have become one over the past three weeks.   It has become my go-to place and at the risk of sounding so dramatic, a holding tank while I heal. Thank God I work at home and that connects me to the outside world, at least for 9 hours a day.  It affords me interaction and activity without having to drag this orthopedic albatross neither down the NYS Thruway nor to the Albany office.

May I share some thoughts and views from my sofa?

  • There are many ways to carry things to this sofa without your hands.  Crutches presented a challenge but you’d be surprised how inventive you can be when you want to get somewhere with your phone/iPad or a sandwich and soup.  I know what you’re thinking:  coffee.  I don’t mess with that. THAT I had someone carry for me.
  • There has to be a box of Kleenex near me because I have watched every Hallmark and Nicholas Sparks movie ever made.  I have cried at least a river or two.
  • Izzy is a wonderful companion who does not judge when I rant about being stationary.  She also thinks it is a good idea to ask the guys at Plane’s Bike shop to install a spin clip on the bottom of this damn boot so I can spin.
  • The static electricity on this sofa makes my hair stand up like the Bride of Frankenstein. I keep a dryer sheet nearby to calm it!
  • I believe in getting  showered and dressed as opposed to existing in sweats.  They add to the depression and anxiety.  I held my breath when I zipped up the jeans hoping that the lack of activity did not equate to added pounds.  So far so good.
  • I am still wearing my Fitbit Charge HR. I periodically check my heart rate to see what it is.  Why? I have no idea.  I will tell you I went from 77 steps the first day after surgery to 7623 yesterday.
  • Zumba can indeed be done wearing a boot. It is not pretty but it can be done and I thank you Zumba ladies for the encouragement.   After all when ‘drunk girl’ did Zumba wearing a boot, she tipped over! I figure I’m ahead of the pack just by keeping upright.
  • Sitting quietly on the sofa,  I listen to the sounds of my house.  With nothing but the hum of that stinkin’ gas fireplace, I hear Jack laughing with his friends in the basement; I listen for Amelia’s tip toe into the kitchen to get a late night snack; I relax to the sound of Izzy’s snoring and sigh over poor Chip emptying the dishwasher, running the laundry and getting ready for the next day.
  • The snow storms that have come and gone these past three weeks have left mounds of snow banks that have created quite a beautiful view from this spot.
  • Prosecco should be considered medicinal. Just sayin’.

So I remain captive here. I am trying not to get all bummed out and frequently think of ways to get back to the gym.  I have been uninspired with my push-up challenge.  I need to get back on that. I may have to stop in one early morning and share a yogurt and a clementine with my spin buds.

Thanks to all who have stopped in to visit and texted and emailed me with kind words and thoughts. We should remember that there are many people that cannot get out and around on a permanent basis. Let’s not forget them.  No one likes to be left out or alone and I can tell you that after this, I am going to be a bit more cognizant of that fact.

view from my couch

 

You May Also Like

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

About Me

KarenHello and welcome.
I am often asked, “What is Pasta on the Floor?”
Pasta on the Floor is different for everyone. It is a recipe that tells a story and inspires them to try something new. For others, stories of family, joy, loss, and hope engage with them. This brings me a great deal of happiness. I do not take myself too seriously, so be forewarned the subject matter is open and truthful. In many ways, Pasta is a tale of life, and I think you will find familiarity and commonality as you scroll through these pages.

Read More