It's about very slowly claiming back bite-sized chunks of former independence. On the forays into the outside world, asking the taxi driver to stop at the ATM machine, getting out and withdrawing the cash myself rather than begging someone else to do it. Ditto letters at the letter box.
Changing the sheets
Hanging out the washing
Upping the distance of the daily walks
Progress. Exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Hope feels dangerous.
But there are helpers, of course there are. A cleaning lady every two weeks, and a gardener/handyman for whenever the lawn runs rampant. In both cases compatability has been key. Can't be doing with someone I'm uncomfortable with; isolation and pain have upped the sensitivity. These two are friendly and non-pushy. The cleaning lady's husband is also my plumber. He charges reasonable rates and (oh so important) is willing to turn out at short notice.
The gardener and his brother-in-law, the roofer, were here this past weekend. Guttering and loose tiles fixed. Apparently there were two holes in the roof - a result probably of the harsh conditions of last winter. Truly glad I didn't know this. In addition my neighbour has replaced the dilapidated fence that separated our two properties. Strong south-west winds are common and I would guess the fence only remained upright thanks to some wonderfully tenacious ivy.
I'm praying, crossing my fingers, that feng shui practitioners have got it right, that mending and adjusting the space where we live does affect the person who lives there. That as the roof is fixed and the gutters are cleared, as the floor is mopped and the garden weeded, as boundaries are strengthened, so healing on some level or another is happening. And I do - kind of - believe it.