Why yes, I am missing something.
Friend Kelly texted this morning to point out that I am now 10 days post op. Time has no meaning in 2022.
I've mentioned that rest is not my strong suit, but the reality is that at least for the first few days, my T. rex arms really didn't allow for much. Now my range of motion has gotten way better. I'm not allowed to lift over "a gallon of milk" for 4-6 weeks. I was a barista for many years, and I distinctly recall passing the time one slow day by just randomly weighing things. A gallon of milk is about 8 lb. I still can't reach up much (e.g., hanging laundry to dry is a non-starter), but I've started to be able to help in the kitchen now rather than sit helplessly.
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| T. rex had fierce arms. |
My body is still in command here though. On Friday, my friend Alec took me to the most amazing little shop to get my hair washed (he's been here less than a year and knew about the place; I'd never heard of it. I am shamed.). Being LA, we parked a portion of a block away and then the lovely human washed and dried my hair; I was out of the house for about 90 min and felt amazing. Later in the day, Stephen and I took a walk to the end of the block and back.
And then I had to sleep for the rest of the day.
I woke up when Matt showed up with some insanely delicious bagels for me, shoved a half a salt bagel in my face, and then went back to sleep immediately when he left.
I'm trying to build in the walks now, just because I feel good enough to do them. And physical therapy is my job, though my PT has limited how much I'm allowed to do because I feel good enough that she fears I'll over do it (surgeon echoed this). I'm hoping to get back to the computer for real works stuff in a limited capacity this week, but am paying attention to discomfort here and not pushing it. But we have big things happening this week and I want to be checking in on that!
This has been exhausting for Stephen, so I called in some favors for help with a few dinners. As much as we love cooking, a few nights off kitchen duty has been a godsend. As I get back to normal mobility, this will be fine, but for now, it was really nice to have some help. I remain grateful to our friends. And I have no idea how people do this alone. Even down to wrapping the compression wraps: I have no concept of how I'd do that by myself.
And an anecdote. Yesterday, we did another walk and saw a neighbor we don't see often. We had already turned around to come home but he shouted to say hello (it really is that sort of neighborhood). He came wandering over and said, "You look like you're missing something!" And for a moment, both Stephen and I thought, "Did he seriously just say that?" I suspect he saw the utter shock on our face and he held his hand up like he was holding a leash. He didn't know we'd lost both our pups (Daisy in October, George in December). We exchanged a few pleasantries about this and his lone remaining 17-year-old dog and headed home, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.