I am home.
Thanks to faithful friends, I slept in my own bed on Saturday night, and I have been near it ever since.
As nice as the hospital was (and I will write about that experience later this week), it is always good to return to home base. Even if I am not certain where it is.
A good friend from church (Lou) took an early bus from Barra de Navidad to meet me at the hospital Saturday afternoon. We then took a taxi to the place I had left my truck when we went on our zipline adventure.
Mirable dictu, it was still there -- and not in an impoundment lot or a chop shop.
And then we were off on a leisurely drive back to Melaque. This time I had an opportunity to look at the sights I had sped past on Wednesday morning.
We met up with Lou's wife (Wynn) and had a slow-paced dinner just around the corner from my house -- as if I had not just attempted to snap off my right foot.
While we were eating, my land lady stopped by the table to inform me that my telephone and internet were not working, but that they would soon be back in commission. That was ironic because I had been thinking that as long as I had the computer and the telephone, I would not really be alone.
Now, I was alone.
But, not yet.
Lou and Wynn came to the house and helped me rearrange the furniture to create clear paths to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom -- where I will be spending my last days in Mexico with my crutched body.
I almost feel like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window. The crocodile can play the Raymond Burr's role. All I am missing is a Grace Kelly.
That is not to say I do not have people helping me out. Lou and Wynn took me to lunch on Sunday after church and picked up some chicken for later in the week. And Lou stopped by on Monday to go buy some vegetables for me.
My land lady has volunteered to help wherever she can, and the young man who delivers my water stopped by today to go shopping for me.
And I guess they all have one real advantage over Grace Kelly. They are here.
I want to thank each of you for your well wishes. I have not received this many kind comments since Jiggs died last year.
But there are more tales to tell about this past week.
My problem then becomes, short of witnessing a murder through my back window, what am I going to blog about during the next few weeks?
I suspect we will find something.
Something.
