Okay, so. Last week I went in to have my ACL reconstructed and my Meniscus trimmed down due to the fact that I ripped them both OFF in Zumba class a few weeks ago.
My surgery was scheduled for 12:30, which in doctor speak means an hour later, so I couldn’t have anything to eat or drink for 8 hours before. Of course, I stayed up extra late and made waffles in a vain attempt to ensure that I wouldn’t be starving when my surgery rolled around. It totally didn’t work. My stomach sounded like a small grizzly bear it was growling so loud by the time I finally got wheeled into surgery.
So we get to the surgery center, I get the VERY latest in completely backless Hospital Couture, I climb into the bed and get a toasty warm blanket, and I take out my phone. To Tweet, of course!! I Tweeted pre-op observations & selfies. Much to TWH’s horror. I don’t know what he thought I should have been doing but apparently, taking selfies wasn’t it.
Surgery goes fine & I come home. Not before the surprisingly strong TINY nurse lady tries to chuck me OVER the seat I’m trying to get into & situated in though. Seriously. I’m a big girl. I’m about 5’8 & weigh 190-ish. This chick was about half my size and just about threw me across the car!! Whatthehey-ull!?!!?
Anyway, I come home and my family’s time of indentured servitude begins.
They have to bring me EVERYDAMNTHING. I have a system with TB where I text him from my room to his if I need something. So far, his response time is pretty good. Miss A is here for a few weeks so she’s been piled up in bed with me watching stuff on Netflix. TWH has been exemplary in his care-taking of me & my friends have offered DAILY to bring/do stuff for me.
The thing is, I’m afraid I may get too overbearing. Like just now, I was cold & my jacket was across the room. I debated for a minute whether or not to text TB or just get up & get it myownself. I got up & got it but the fact that I thought about having TB come from the other end of the house to do it for me bothers me. I do NOT want to imperiously wave my hand and demand things. I DO want to be gracious and appreciative of EVERYTHING everyone does for me. I DO want to try & do everything I can for myself. I DON’T want to take advantage of my family. I DON’T want to turn into a demanding bitch who just plunks herself down & EXPECTS everything to be handed to her. I DON’T want to be “helpless”. I know there are people out there who would consider this recuperation period their “Due”. That they would laugh and talk about how they hope “Everyone gains a new appreciation for how much they do”. I’m not that person. I’m more frustrated by the fact that I can’t pull my weight. That I’m letting down my end of this partnership & asking my husband & children to pick up my slack. That I’m now part of their “Burden”. I certainly don’t want to make that worse by being a total bitch about it.
I could see it happening though. It’s a slippery slope. I’m sure it happens in increments. With something small, like a jacket.
I’m also pretty sure TWH would call “Bulshit” on that quick, fast, and in a hurry. The man is The Wonder Hubby but even HE has his limits.
And I’m sure when I’m up & around again, I’ll hear all about how “It’s about time I got off my lazy ass & started helping out around here”. The man thinks he’s funny. And I will laugh along with him & happily unload the dishwasher.
Just to relieve his burden.