|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on July 11, 2020 at 5:40 PM|
We go to get his port cleaned in Armstrong. His legs are still pretty swollen. He lowers himself into the car and once he's in, he uses his arms to lift his legs into the car. He's discouraged that he's still so weak.
At the clinic, he hoists himself out of the car. Gingerly. Using his arms to assist himself up and out. Go slow, I remind. Constantly reminding. Constantly worrying. I watch him walk to the door before I park. Please don't fall, I silently pray.
I park the car and jog to join him at the entry. We wait to be buzzed in.
I'm so nervous all the time now that you will fall. I won't, he says. It's just annoying to be weak. I want my energy back.
I just nod. There's nothing more for me to say. I want his energy back too. It's not the first time we have talked about it. I just wonder when it will happen. And lately, I wonder 'if'...