What, no dog?

We piled into a taxi and took the 40 minute drive back to the city center, where we pulled up in the
famous market area of the city. There in this old and original neighborhood, where I myself had an
apartment that at present was rented out, my daughter had found me a temporary residence.

Even though my own place was on the ground floor and in the same area, it had no easy access for
a wheelchair and the bathroom itself impossible for me to enter on a wheelchair, as my ability on
crutch was more than limited. This new temporary place of abode, was on the first floor, but there
was a lift and all areas of it allowed maneuver easily both with chair and sticks.

The room itself was more studio and as you entered the square room, there was a small kitchen
area on the right, that housed a microwave, small fridge, worktop area and units that held utensils
both for cooking and eating as well as sink.

To the left was a small sofa and TV, two poofs. In between the room there was a divider, that
coming off from it was a table and two chairs, meant as the eating area. It was here that I placed
my laptop. Behind the divider was the sleeping area, that had a built in closet and double bed,
prettily encase in 'Ikea' linen.

Just after the kitchen, there was a wooden door that led to the bathroom, that comprised of a sink,
shower unit and toilet. Sending out my son for a plastic stool that I could place in the shower, I was
set to go. The fridge stocked by my daughter, the TV cables connected, I was to receive a phone
and Internet line in a day or two. This was a welcome blessing, both in fact, for I had been using
till then my daughter as my secretary to keep my contact going with the outside world and I was
looking forward to reconnecting!

It was Tuesday, I was to be in this particular place for another 3 weeks and would have to wait
for another 5 for the plaster to actually be removed. So I settled down, weakly and feeling
extremely vulnerable into my new situation.

The first night was difficult, there were no comforting sounds of other patients, I was on my own
and the fear of not being able to cope or of falling was strong. It took some maneuvering to
get myself into the bathroom and at first I was too afraid to even try to sleep in the bed, making
do with the small sofa, that proved too uncomfortable for my leg.

Before we left the hospital we visited a specialist to request tests to make sure that I was in the
best of health and that brought me a few days later to a visit to a new family doctor. A family
doctor is so much more important than we give credit for. As a child I can remember an old
dodgedy gentleman of German descent, kindly but inefficient, that would allow us to take sweets
from his jar after each visit. His surgery always smelt of old leather and we always spoke in
hushed voices there. My new doctor, because I was not registered in this particular clinic, has
proven to be really great. He is South African, young, kind and helpful.

Upon receiving the letter from the specialist recommending various tests, he set us on our way
with appropriate letters of recommendation and necessary pills needed for my speedy recovery.
He has proven to be a gem and has made the recovery period all the more easy.

So, soon I settled into a daily routine, receiving visitors from time to time, especially my daughter and grand-daughter and we decided to hold her first birthday party in my house
the following Friday. It was a joyous day, with the other grandparents and uncles on both sides
participating as she happily went from present to present enjoying her one week belated day.

As for me, well, I had started daily writing my book at long last, the long overdue story of my
childhood and life through marriage, until after 10 years and four children later, I had the courage to run away to Israel to start a new life.