Let me tell you...

I vacuumed my bedroom today. Yeah, that's right. I vacuumed. Not my mum, not a friend, not a maid hired to clean for me, not some mystical being in my dreams. No. Me. It was needed. It was worth it. It was a joyous occasion. The heavens parted and the sun shown down on the mighty machine of cleaning. Angels sang, trumpets were played, babies stopped crying, candy rained down on children the world round and all was good.

There is a giant grin plastered on my face and a strong feeling of satisfaction deep within me. And I am excited to do it again XD It wouldn't surprise me if I was the only person in all known human history to get so excited about vacuum cleaning. But here we are, glorious.

All hail the might machine of clean!

 It also wouldn't surprise me if you all thought I had finally lost it. It wasn't the bone infection coming back. Nor was it the PICC line and all the accompanying allergic reactions. It wasn't loosing over six centimes of bone either or the giant metal pins that stuck out of my shin for six loooong months. And it definitely wasn't all the time spent on crutches, hobbling around, or endless hours sitting in my pajama pants while binge watching netflix. No. It was the vacuuming. My medical record will state "Patient lost her mind while vacuuming". =P

Just to clarify (you know, so you don't think that I have actually gone insane), I haven't been able to vacuum since before surgery number four, which was last August, a solid ten months ago. Heck, I haven't really been able to do any type of cleaning since then. And even before that I was kind of limited by the dreaded PICC line. So being able to clean my room by myself is a big, amazing feat. It means that I am getting better. Well, hopefully. We won't know for sure until I get more x-rays. But it is certainly a good sign. And aside from that, it feels good. I feel useful, like I am gaining some independence back, as if I can fend for myself. Words can not describe how good it feels to be able to do this thing alone.

Speaking of cleaning, I also dusted my room this afternoon. Sun shining inside, fresh air breezing through the open window, some good music playing in the background, a bucket of warm water and dust. Lots and lots of dust. Fat free dust (for laughter, click here). Oh, let me tell you - I cleaned the windowsill. The wash cloth turned black. Black as darkest night. It was so satisfying to see everything get cleaned.

On a related note, cleaning seems to be good physiotherapy. Shh, don't tell my mum. I'll never hear the end of it!

And on another note, laughter ensued when I told my mum how excited I was to clean. I said "I haven't been able to do this since before surgery". To which she retorted "Which one? The one in August, November, March or the extra trip to the OR in April?" We just stared at each other and burst out laughing. Only in the world of chronic medical problems can something like that be considered funny. It's actually not funny at all. The last year in particular was filled with so much pain, worry, fatigue, and... well, I could go on for a while. But that is how we cope. We get a morbid sense of humor and laugh at everything, no matter how bad. That's how we turn our lemons into lemonade.

Anyways, it was a good day. A fantastic day. It really is the little things that count =)