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Lately I feel like I’m living in exile.

Since my fall I’ve been laid up in the bedroom, propped up on the bed, a heavy brace on each leg. I’m confined to the bedroom because the sofa in the front room is too low and unstable for me to get on and off, even with help. I’m more comfortable on the bed – not comfortable, but more comfortable.

Sometimes I feel like a prisoner. This is temporary, I remind myself. My body is healing. I’m getting better. I can bend one knee a little now. I can get on and off the bed on my own and take care of many of my personal needs by myself (with my caregiver or Larry standing by just in case). I’m getting better every day, little by little. Micro improvements. Progress.

The bedroom door must remain closed at all times because of our cats Shasta and Sebastian. They have never been allowed in our bedroom. The main reason is that Sebastian has a history of peeing on beds and other furniture, although he hasn’t done that in a while. We also don’t want cat hair in the bedroom. Some gets in anyway, of course, because it’s all over us and it flies all around the apartment, but it’s a manageable amount.

During the day I don’t feel as isolated. People come and go – my caregiver, home health workers, my partner. I get up to walk around the apartment with crutches a few times each day. Sometimes Sebastian comes out of his hidey-hole to greet me. He misses me a lot, I can tell. I miss him too. Our other cat, Shasta, also misses me I’m know but she’s much more skittish and distant and she’s afraid of the crutches.

I try to stay busy. I write, work on the computer, and have phone sessions with my clients. I text and talk with friends. I meditate, watch dharma talks, and listen to podcasts while I crochet.

I’m lucky that I have two windows in my bedroom that look out on greenery. There is a beautiful lemon tree right outside, and if I happen to look out at the right moment I will see a hummingbird visiting the blossoms. How beautiful.

Around 5 pm or so my mood begins to dip. Larry is home by that time which makes me happy, but he’s usually not in the bedroom with me. The cats need attention and he needs time to unwind and relax after a busy work day. He has a bad back and it’s uncomfortable for him to sit up on the bed with me. He makes me dinner every night and eats in the bedroom with me, but for the rest of the evening he’s in the other room with the cats relaxing. I understand, I’m not upset with him. But I’m lonely.

I spend my evenings alone propped up on the bed watching Netflix. It won’t be this way forever, I remind myself. In a few weeks or a month I’ll be able to sit in the other room with Larry and our kitties, spending the evenings with them like we did before this accident.

This is temporary, I constantly remind myself. I’m not a prisoner. I can get up and out of the bedroom and walk around the apartment. My mobility will continue to improve as long as I do my PT exercises and maintain a healthy outlook. And hopefully by September I’ll be back to my regular life and not in exile anymore.