Smells Like Freedom.

Today marks fifteen days since I’ve surfed.

I’ve filled my days with reading, blogging, writing fifty pages of my epic saga.  Steven King’s epic saga (according to him) is his seven novel compilation, The Dark Tower series. He started writing it at age nineteen and finished at age fifty seven.  Thirty-eight years, it took him to finish the epic saga.  If mine goes at that pace, you can look for it in the year 2050.  I’ll be sixty-five.   I’ll probably have grand-children.

I’ve taken a few walks… to the kitchen.  I’ve eaten more than my fair share of trail mix.  I’ve abused the privilege of having a bell with which to summon Brent, or anyone else within earshot, and upon their arrival thinking up a task for them to complete.

Because he loves me and pities me being bound to a bed for ANOTHER two weeks, Brent has bought me a few consolation prizes.  The first was an iPad.  I know, cha-ching!, right?  Well, we needed the 4-G internet connection since we don’t have the ‘net on the boat.  Not that we’re on the boat… but we will be!  Soon!  This is only a temporary setback, this nagging injury of mine.  So the iPad was prize number one, and it staved off my depression for a whole week.

One afternoon we were discussing a blog post I wrote and posted, only to retract it immediately.  It was entitled, the Broken Girl’s Guide to Having Fun and it was about all the things I am doing to keep myself entertained while I am bedridden.  I thought it was funny, but I will admit it pushed the envelope a bit when it comes to… polite talk.  Certain topics, like bathroom visits, are not appropriate for the blog, and this was brought to my attention, gently, but firmly.  I started to cry, mostly because I am a bit off due to the pain medication I’m taking, but also because I have little to do besides write and I wanted to have a pity party. Sweet, loving Brent wanted to distract me from my woes, so he enticed me to cheer up with a little online shopping.

I spent four precious hours of my life hmm-ing and haww-ing over what I wanted to purchase as consolation prize number two.  I finally settled on a black Body Glove bikini with a cross-back top and brazilian bottoms.

It’s hard to find swimsuit tops that stay put while surfing, but the Body Glove Smoothies Action Top is one of the best I’ve tried.  For three days, I was content with consolation prize number two.

Alas, my contentment came to an end.  After a particularly trying day, in which I insisted on walking a lap through the house with my walker, we had another melt-down.  Brent caught me tottering around the kitchen without my walker, trying to cut a peach into pieces to eat. He scolded me and sent me back to bed, where I cried and bemoaned my sorry existence.  And such was the impetus for purchasing consolation prize number three.

As some of you may know, in the hospital they cut off my favorite wetsuit, a spring suit with short legs and long arms, which made me feel like Gidget (lovely female surfer, in case you don’t know the reference).  It was very saddening to me because I loved that wetsuit very much.  When I dried my tears, Brent asked if I knew what wetsuit I was going to get next.

I scoured the internet looking for one that was just right.  After five hours of debating- long leg or short leg?  Long sleeve or short sleeve?  I finally settled on the O’neill Long Jane 2:1 wetsuit.

Isn’t she a beauty?  After placing the order, I fell fast asleep and dreamed about cross-stepping on a perfect right-hander in Scorpion Bay, wearing my new long jane wetsuit.

The days dragged on as I waited for the package to arrive in the mail.  Two days passed, then three, then four.  On the fifth day, a package arrived and was brought to be where I lay in my bed.  I felt like a little kid on Christmas as I tore into the plastic bag, only to find another plastic bag.  Inside the second was my new wetsuit.  I took it out and draped it across my lap, caressing the neoprene and rubbing it against my cheek.  Then, I closed my eyes, and buried my face in the wetsuit, inhaling deeply the scent of rubber and glue.  With the smell came the sensation of salt spray on my face, and the feeling of gliding across a perfect wave.  As I exhaled, I opened my eyes, which had tears in them once again.

This time, they were tears of joy.  I looked at Brent and said, “Thank you.  I love it.  It smells like freedom.”

It will be a month still before I can get back in the water.  In the meantime, you can find me in my room, sniffing my wetsuit and spraying myself in the face with a bottle of salt water.

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