Alas, alack

I've been offline for four days and now seem to have my internet up in St. Michael's Hospital, where I've also been for four days.

On Friday night I found I was right back where I was in January -- no strength in my legs, falling every time I tried to stand up. My limbs are covered in huge bruises and scrapes. My friend Marie was with me the last couple of times I fell, with such enormous crashes I nearly scared us both to death, and she expertly arranged an ambulance to the location I wanted, while I sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor. More descending the house's front steps dramatically strapped into a chair, no doubt scaring the neighbours. I cried as I said goodbye to my house, knowing I might not see it again (I said that last time). But along with the sadness, I felt an enormous sense of relief, or at least of safety. The fear of falling has become very strong. However, I'm well aware that being ensconced in a safe bed, without much exercise or even the ability to roll over, is what will probably lead to my death.

I spent about six hours in Emerg -- it was quiet and comfortable, oddly, and my brothers and their wives showed up. I was admitted at 1 a.m.; they immediately did an MRI and I was tucked into bed by 2:30.

Since then I've been having MRI and CT scans, or waiting to have them, while trying to cancel various appointments without benefit of a working computer or papers that got left at home. Meanwhile coping with the usual dilemma: how many visitors is too many and how do I manage that impulse folks have to spend time with me, as well as my own impulse to be distracted by friends and have people around to fetch things for me. I say I want to be around folks who can be quiet and let me be quiet, too -- what the bad novels call companionable silence -- but today Diane pointed out that she tries to engineer such an atmosphere, but I won't shut up! And she's right. I love to talk, but more than that I feel so guilty when I don't engage -- I need to fill the void. It's one reason I never married. I feel like I'm being watched if another person is in the room, and I feel a huge burden to socially engage.

Anyway, I've let it be known that I don't want more than two short visits a day by non-family members, and people are mostly complying, but even with the wiki calendar, I feel like I spend a good chunk of the day scheduling people, despite help from friends who try to head them off at the pass. Oh, what a glorious problem to have -- too many wonderful pals!

Pollyanna moments:

• My brother Paul made me whole-wheat scones and stocked my fridge when I returned from B.C. He also took us to the airport. And last night he brought me the most hilarious tape of his youngest son, made when he was three or four, in which he very loudly and enthusiastically retells the Easter story. It's good enough for America's Home something-or-other, especially the parts about Joey and his dirty sandals.
  
• My brother Mark, along with Marie C., took me on a tour of a local retirement residence, which I was quite excited about, until my legs collapsed the very next day. Then he did my laundry, or he and his wife did.
  
• Mark and Daryl/Diane cut bouquets of lilacs from my precious tree, and my room (a private one!) smells divine. It looks pretty certain I won't see the tree bloom again.