I’ve been home now for 15 days. When I say it like that I find it amazing that 15 days have flown by. Yet in reality as I’ve lived through these days they have really dragged.
Pain, nausea, discomfort, difficulty getting around and insomnia, all of the things that have caused me tremendous challenges. Yet I’ve found that keeping myself occupied has been one of the greatest challenges. Before my operation I asked around for recommendations of series or movies to watch. I just cannot focus on TV at all and nothing really appeals to me. I have started my cross stitch, which has occupied some time and now I’m starting to see it come together it’s been enjoyable. But there is only so much you can do in a day.
I’ve had some company whilst I’ve been recovering, which has pretty much kept me sane. My mother and father in law Barbara and Monty have both been over during week along with my Auntie Carole. Between them they have ensured that I’ve had company and also provided practical assistance with jobs in the house and taking me out for a change of scenery, from help to get into the garden to enjoy the sun, to going into town for a coffee. These interactions have broken up the monotony of the day while Wayne is at work and the girls are at school.
Despite the kindness and thoughtfulness of my family in keeping me company, I have found myself feeling incredibly down towards this weekend. I’m having to rely on my children and husband to for far more than I ever have had to before. Making meals, drinks, ensuring items are placed where I can get at them, getting clothes out of my wardrobe. They all tell me they don’t mind doing these things, but I cannot help but feel a burden. That’s why I try hard to do as much as I can for myself. Sometimes possibly putting myself at risk. I never brought children into the world to become my carers and I certainly never married Wayne for him to become one either. My heart breaks just a little each time I feel I have to ask for anything. I’ve always been so independent and done everything myself, even down to raising the girls. I’ve heard the little sighs and seen the eyes rolling as I’ve asked for things to be done. It’s a teenage thing I guess, but I don’t think they realise how each time these little things hurt me inside. They hurt me because I should be doing them myself, yet I can’t and don’t want to risk damage to the tendon that’s been transplanted to a new bone.
We’ve sat as a family and discussed this, especially how all this makes me feel, so that they can understand from my perspective. In an attempt to cheer me up, while the sun was shining my lovely family took me out for a walk ( a push) around the lake, which ended up a 6 mile jaunt and an extremely tired family and doggies afterwards.
I am so lucky and blessed to have a wonderful family.