I am in recupery.  To describe my present condition as “recovery” gives the impression that I’ve entered a 12-step program.  Which I haven’t.  Although I wouldn’t object to attending AA meetings provided they were  held anywhere that was not my living room.

As you know, if you were paying attention (see essay posted on July 20), I have recently undergone shoulder surgery.  As a result, for the past two weeks I have been grounded, with the prospect of two more weeks of the same.  I was ordered not to drive during this period, a circumstance which, if you live in the suburbs, is a lot like a prison sentence.

Anyone who has undergone a period of recuperation following an illness or surgery knows how constricted your world becomes.   You nurture your wound, deal with your pain, and, more important, try to find a comfortable position in the bed.

My world has been temporarily narrowed to an armchair in my living room, where I am attached to an ice machine six times a day for half-hour intervals.  While one might view this as a gift of time for quiet reflection, albeit a very cold shoulder, for me it is a disaster! How can I possibly sustain my blog if I’m not out in the world stumbling upon events  about which to complain?

So for the present I must content myself with observations from my armchair.

All the News all the Time

Maybe I do need a 12-step program for I am in grave danger of becoming a cable news addict.  And I’m learning so much.  For one thing, if you’re a woman and want to be a commentator, it helps to have long, blonde, blow-dried hair and look buff in sleeveless dresses.

Since my chair faces the TV, and I am currently lacking the attention required to read, it seemed like a harmless way to pass the time while my shoulder was participating in the ice bucket challenge.  Harmless indeed! Almost too much excitement for someone in recupery.  If I wrote about politics, which I don’t, the past week would have been a Thanksgiving feast.

First of all, after many months of public silence, Jared Kushner spoke.  I think I get it now.  If I were a man holding a powerful position and had a voice that sounded like a 13-year-old delivering his bar mitzvah speech, I, too, would  avoid the microphone.

Then, of course, there was the public shaming of Jeff Sessions, followed by a speech in front of the Boy Scout jamboree which sounded more like a rally cry for a brown-shirt youth movement, transgender discrimination, and encouragement of police brutality.  What a meal!

And for dessert, we were served the foul-mouthed  Anthony Scaramucci. His political message and mannerisms were so much like the President’s that I wondered if Mooch was auditioning for the role of Mini-Me in the next Austin Powers movie. (Sorry, Chris Matthews, I said it first.) And if he were Mini-Me, would that make Trump Doctor Evil? ( I’m just askin’.)

Husband as Caregiver

I must publicly express gratitude to my dear husband who has risen to the occasion most nobly.  He has become my chauffeur and my bra-closer.  He walks the dog, cooks breakfast, and caters dinners.  He has become reacquainted with the dry cleaner after a long absence, and does the grocery shopping, getting most of it right.

He is learning his way around our kitchen, only occasionally asking me an eye-brow raising question like “do we own mixing bowls,” or “is this our only frying pan?” Not wanting to appear unappreciative, I patiently respond, while my inner voice is screaming “DUH!”

One-Armed Housekeeping

Ta-da!

Desiring to be somewhat useful, in between icings, I do rise from my armchair, reattach my sling, and seek out chores that I can accomplish with one working, non-dominant hand.  I am amazed by the adaptability of our species!  I’m able to load and unload the dishwasher, do the laundry, and make the bed.  I can feed the dog, and set the table for the evening’s catered meal.

But my greatest new feat to date, of which I am most proud, is one-handed sheet folding.  I know this sounds almost impossible, but with the skill of a contortionist, I have mastered it.  You can wait for the “how-to” video, or, if you’re in a hurry, stop by for a personal demonstration.  (Just joking!  About the video, not my talent.)

So that’s my small life for now.  I look forward to starting physical therapy soon, being back in my car, and once again typing with ten fingers.

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P.S.  While I was undergoing surgery, so was my web site.  We have a new name and a new look.  Now called “Susan’s Unfiltered Wit,” I’m finally stepping out of the shadows and acknowledging ownership.  (www.SusansUnfilteredWit.com).  I hope you find the new appearance more lively and colorful.  I’d appreciate your feedback.

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