The pain woke me far too early. 4:00 a.m. maybe. Tears welled up; not because of the pain, but for what the pain meant. Struggling, I finally slip out of bed; pushing past pain. The wheelchair in the corner with outstretched arms waiting for me to accept his embrace. “Not today,” I said. “Perhaps tomorrow; for I have too much to do today.”
I cried again in the shower - because I was alone. Showers are perfect places to sob and so I did. I took my time selecting my clothes, styling my hair and applying my make-up. It was important for me to feel pretty and pretend that everything was okay.
Weak and shaky, I will make it through today; on my own; like I have been doing all along.
As I walked out the front door I turned to the corner and said: "Mr. Blue, my wheelchair; you will just have to wait, I’m not ready. Ask me tomorrow." I can almost guarantee I won't give in to the pain or that beautiful blue wheelchair.
I cried again in the shower - because I was alone. Showers are perfect places to sob and so I did. I took my time selecting my clothes, styling my hair and applying my make-up. It was important for me to feel pretty and pretend that everything was okay.
Weak and shaky, I will make it through today; on my own; like I have been doing all along.
As I walked out the front door I turned to the corner and said: "Mr. Blue, my wheelchair; you will just have to wait, I’m not ready. Ask me tomorrow." I can almost guarantee I won't give in to the pain or that beautiful blue wheelchair.
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