Once a week, I prepare the grocery list. Here are some of the typical steps:
- Try to get the pad of paper that's on a magnetic
hook on the refrigerator door. Forget I need both hands to grasp it. Drop the pad on the floor. Curse.
- Bend over to get the pad and hook. After few tries, I put the hook back with my affected hand. Tell myself: it's therapy.
- Open the fridge. Realize I didn't use my affected hand. Close the fridge. Open it with my right hand. Look in the fridge and see what we need.
- Go to the table, and haul myself up on a stool. Wish that the person who designed the kitchen used a leg brace. She would have known that counter-height tables are a bad idea.
- Start writing the list with my "good" (left) hand. Pause when I can't remember the first letter of "cheese." Tell myself: it's therapy.
- Finish part of the list. Stand up, after a quick check to see that my both feet are really on the floor. Go to the freezer, open it. Curse when bags of frozen vegetables fall to the floor, narrowly missing my left foot. Decide I need a break.
You get the picture. After writing the list, I type it, with both hands: it's therapy. Most weeks it takes me about two and a half or three hours for the whole process.
So a few weeks ago I was very proud of myself: for the first time, not only did I make the list, I did the shopping myself. Well, almost. After I put everything in the cart, I met our wonderful helper and asked her to wait in line. I went outside, sat on a bench, and basked in the sun. It was therapy.
1 hour ago