Island Hideaway 32 - Walkies​

I've been shopping I said​​
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"Wow, it must be Christmas. My very own zimmer frame. How did you know, I usually get stuff I don't want, like chocolates and alcohol."​​
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"I know it looks bad, but your legs haven't moved in four months, so you're going to need support."​​
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"Right, move aside Lewis Hamilton, I'm coming through in the fast lane."​​
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I helpd Mo move the duvet aside and she slowly shifted her body to the side of the bed, so that she was sitting up.​​
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"Right, here goes, one giant step for a Mo, one small step for a Mo."​​
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"I'm glad you planned your speech. If you could hold the walker with both hands and try lifting yourself off the bed. Don't worry, I'm here to catch you."​​
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"I've seen you playing baseball remember, don't try to reassure me with reference to your catching skills."​​
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"Don't worry, the walker is here to catch you."​​
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"Better."​​
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She gripped the walker as tight as she could (feeble, weak but desperate) and tried raising her arse from the bed. You could see the effor on the face. Levitation was slow, but her bum started to rise, with all the grace and ease of an elephant taking its first ballet lesson. At the fourth attempt she managed it and stood in the arms of the walker, shaking with exhaustion.​​
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"Wow, I'm there. Can I go back to bed now?"​​
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"If you try taking a couple of steps, you need to get the muscles working."​​
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"Slave driver. The things a girl will do for the right to piss in a toilet."​​
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She pushed her left leg forward and the walker inched forward. She stood shaking, recovering from the shock, gripping the sides of the walker with all the total-grip focus of boa constrictor's death squeeze. She moved forward another step, paused for a long time then took another. In this way, over the space of half an hour, she moved halfway across the room.​​
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"I'm done," she said. "My legs are dead."​​
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"If you try turning round ..."​​
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"No, fuck that, I'm done. Move the bed here, I need to sit down."​​
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I pushed the bed towards her rear and nervously she collapsed her arse onto it."​​
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"Geeze, and to think I once walked to the kitchen for a cup of tea. I must have been 2,000 years younger."​​
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"It'll get easier. If you just want to take a break we can try again in an hour or two."​​
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"I don't think my bladder will hold out that long."​​
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"I'm offering my piss-waiter service."​​
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"Oh you spoil me. Shit, okay you can be my piss waiter. Help me back in bed, I'm spent."​​
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I helped Mo back onto the bed where she collapsed, exhausted. I covered her with the duvet.​​
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"Christ, it was easier when I was in a coma," she said.​​
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"It's going to take a while I'm afraid."​​
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"Well, fetch me my bedpan piss-waiter, I don't have all day."​​
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