Why can't this be fixed?

Big Sister came to visit over Presidents Day weekend. My situation reminds me of how much I miss.  We used to be the ones to travel and go visiting -- our lives not held down by the constraints of school or traditional working schedules.  Now we are held back by our lack of disposable income, lack of reliable vehicles, and lack of time. It means we miss out on a lot of life and laughter.  And did we ever laugh.  With the grown nieces, the great-nephew, my own kids and the laughter of picking up right where we left off, the weekend was much too short.

She's worried about my knee and my plans, in the way that big sisters are apt to worry.  When will I replace it? Why haven't I pushed for the surgery? We need a plan.  How can she help?

I understand her concern. My husband and I carefully weigh the situation.  While I could afford the actual surgery costs now, I can't afford the time off.  I'm certain I wouldn't lose my job if I took the time to have the replacement surgery, I'm just not sure I can afford not working after the sick time and vacation time is used.  Recovery is longer than the paid benefits of my job. This is really what holds me back.

We live on this financial razor's edge, so carefully balanced that one day late on a bill or an hour short on a paycheck tips us to ruin. I can't afford the extra weeks of unpaid time off.

Imprisoned

Quicker than the last time I had the cortisone shot in my knee, the pain has climbed to higher levels again. Its inevitable. I live in a constant state of excruciating pain.

The snow has melted in the yard, and the urge to get ready for summer has plagued me.  Some mornings, I stand at the bedroom window and imagine how I could change things to be better.  I wonder if an apple tree in that spot, or maybe placing a chicken coop over there and fencing in a garden of raised beds near it would be a better use of our land. I imagine how peaceful the backyard could be once spring and summer come around. 

Most mornings, I stand and see the off-white wall of vinyl fencing and the brown, dormant grass.  The gray, February sky and brown lawn remind me that there is no garden of Eden waiting to be discovered in the yards of people who can't do the work. There is only the obligation that I leave my family.  Unable to do the things I once enjoyed, I'm left to rely on a spouse and children who never liked and never wanted the same things as me. 

So I stare out the window knowing this year will be like the last and I'll be nothing more than a prisoner -- stuck behind the walls of the empty yard, only leaving for work-release. "We have to keep you in good enough shape to work," is the reminder I hear when I start to break apart. There is nothing more to it.