After my morning ablutions one carer pushes me, enthroned on my commode, while the other follows with the attached vent stand in a stately procession down the hallway to the lounge room. Via a complicated series of tucks and leans and pulls and pushes a sling is arranged around me and I am hoisted up so that my head reaches the dizzying height it used to when I could stand. Whilst thus suspended, one carer crouches to “freshen up” and apply cream to my undercarriage then pull the back of my dress forward to cover my derrière; the other is tasked with carefully watching my face in case the movement affects my head position or breathing. I often wonder what is the appropriate facial expression for this overly intimate situation, and whether my face is adopting it.
During this morning’s levitation I watched our cat as he sprawled on the carpet and performed his own private ablutions. He suddenly realised he was being observed and his face immediately transformed in a way that reminded me of the meme above. I’m feeling the feline affinity, and will attempt to emulate him tomorrow.