Boldly, only 13 days after surgery, I ventured out to a party, a Labor Day cookout. It seemed both an enormous undertaking and, at the same time, not such a big deal. Bob did the driving. I remained seated on the deck the whole two hours I was there (except for a visit to the buffet.) I enjoyed being a hero: no one had imagined I could make it out to a party so soon. Then I went home at 7:30 and pretty quickly went to bed. Today I've been good for nothing but lying down.
So it turns out I'm not ready for such outings yet. Too exhausting--especially since at the party I chowed down on the first whole plate of food in two weeks. I had to try it to know.
I'm reminded how rarely progress is ever smooth. How there are always interruptions, for many kinds of reasons. Wee setbacks and large ones are part of every process of making and remaking. I like the kind of stories that are inevitably titled "comeback kid."
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1 comment:
Am glad to hear you are so spiritedly on the mend.
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