Panic

Everything changes for me this Sunday, and I have been fighting a slowly rising tide of panic about it.  On Sunday, Andrew goes home.  It's difficult to express what I lose when he goes, but I'm going to try.  I lose:

• An assistant who can turn a 45-minute struggle into a 30-second whim
• An ever-present audience for my constant sarcasm
• A comedian who constantly helps me find the funny in my situation
• A surprisingly qualified personal trainer who can stretch out my body and challenge my mind
• A spotter who can help me transfer from my bed to my wheelchair without waiting for help from a nurse's assistant
• An attentive defender who is ready to throw on some blankets at a moment's notice when my body temperature goes haywire
• A friend who claims he has actually enjoyed his time here, as unlikely as that seems

The fact is I have been extraordinarily lucky to have had people stay with me as long as I did, and RIDICULOUSLY lucky to have Andrew for two whole weeks.  After Andrew leaves, I will be on my own for the first time, and it scares the crap out of me.  I'll be by myself most of the time, and I'll be at the mercy of the nursing staff any time I want anything. That means getting a drink, or getting a change of socks, or getting out of bed.  Right now, Andrew can make all that stuff a non-issue.

You will be missed

Once he's gone, my life here is going to be lonelier and harder.  It represents an important step in the transition to living on my own out in the real world, but that doesn't make it any fun, and it's one of the reasons it's so damn scary.