I don't want to make this a sob story, a 'whoa is me' story, but I do want to let you know why I've been absent, and why it's even been hard to post since my return. I'm struggling, to the Nth degree, with depression, loneliness, pain and overwhelming feelings of uselessness. After a lifetime of being a type A personality, a workaholic, busy with volunteering, taking ballet classes, rescuing animals, etc., I can't bear being stuck in this bed any more. Yes, I'm still bed-bound, although it's down to ~98%. With my Rollator (walker with a seat), I can walk to my bathroom, use the toilet!!!, take a shower!!!!! [on a shower bench], and even go to the kitchen. By the time I make it back to my bed, I'm sweating profusely, hyperventilating, heart racing--in other words, having a panic attack, because walking is *SO* scary. I still have ZERO feeling in my feet, so simply standing up is a disorienting, frightening thing, and walking is 1000 times worse. I feel so useless, so hopeless, I can't work up the enthusiasm to come here and post--because I just don't want it to always be "poor me" and nothing else. I have nothing good or happy to say, so why say anything? I really don't want to bring you down--and I don't want sympathy, either.
A couple of funny(?) things have happened recently, both involving my precious, departed Joy Noelle. One night Big Brian (one of my two remaining cats) and I were eating pita bread; I was way over on the right side of the bed, where I always sleep, and he was on that highly-coveted spot that Joy Noelle always prevented him from accessing: my tummy. I don't normally ever let my pets eat bread, since it sticks to their teeth and the starch causes cavities. But with all the dental snacks and other chew things I give them, it's okay for Brian to eat little bits of pita occasionally. If I dropped anything, he was quick to go for it, but I'd pick it up off my chest before he could tear into it. Note that any crumbs I dropped fell on or right next to me. The next morning, way over on the far other side of the bed, I found this, positioned exactly as shown:
Hopefully, you see what everyone else sees, a heart. Note the little marks on the top left edge--they look like Joy's little teeth marks. (Big Brian has *BIG* teeth--his canines are the biggest I've ever seen in a cat; those marks just can't be his.) Plus Joy Noelle lost a canine tooth when she was a baby; we never did know how, but my vet said "I'd like to see who got the worst of it!" Note the fine, white hair, too--it looks just like Joy's; Brian is more of a cream-colored white, or off-white (with brown patches), and Sarah (my other remaining cat) is solid gray. BTW, this happened one week after Joy Noelle's [made-up] birthday.
And then, a few days ago, I lost my pencil. I can hear you! You're saying "Big deal! Buy another one! They're a dime a dozen!" No, no, no... This is the mechanical pencil that got me through my pre-med days in college, both of the jobs that I loved, AND Joy used it for teething when she was a tiny baby. We're coming up on [what would have been] our 20th anniversary, November 22...and I have no doubt that Joy Noelle had a hand in the pencil disappearing. Last night, I reached for the remote to watch TV...and it was gone, too. Joy knew how important TV is to me, so I immediately thought her dainty little hands were in this disappearance, too. Luckily, I had kept my old DirecTV remote, so I used that. Today, I told my helper I'd been searching for the pencil for days, but couldn't find it, and that the remote had now disappeared as well. She found them--TOGETHER on the floor, by the right side of the bed, where I couldn't see them.
Coincidence? Is this all a big, bizarre coincidence? Did I drop a 1-1/2" piece of pita bread--shaped like a heart--without noticing it? And Brian didn't wolf it down? And it somehow transported itself to the far other side of the bed? Did my pencil, which never, ever gets left on the bed at night, somehow move itself across the room, on the floor? And the remote just coincidentally fell [without being heard] RIGHT BY the pencil?
It's okay. Call me nuts. I'm really fine with it.
I believe in, and have seen evidence of, activity after death, so I'm going with Joy Noelle doing all of this. Nothing like any of this has ever happened before. So, yeah, there you go!
) One of these days. As for your heart, just keep in mind that it is a muscle, and it can be built back up. But after what yours has gone through, it's going to take time and patience. Exercise, yes, definitely, but be sure you're within any parameters or restrictions the doctors may have placed. It sounds like the worst of it is behind you, but I'd still suggest being gentle, like don't take up lifting 500-lb weights out of the blue!! 
