“Help yourself to some salad,“ said my wife, pushing an attractive, feta, tomato and cucumber concoction in my direction. I gazed at the pair of salad tongs, at the ready, tucked in the bowl.
"I can't help myself,“ I said.
We both laughed.
Habit a stern taskmaster. Even in my second of six weeks of having my left arm in a sling, immobilized with a foam pillow against my chest, our default at times still is: I can do it myself.
The good news is the surgery went well, the torn rotator cuff repaired, apparently, and I am on the mend. Sleeping in a chair in the TV room — 10 days and counting — is not the brutal hardship I had imagined, and quite necessary when twisting in my sleep could rip out the surgeon's handiwork.
Plus, it's a really nice chair. A blue leather electric recliner. When we bought it, I worried it was like a medical device for the infirm. Now I'm glad it is.
My wife has been extraordinarily helpful and while I don't wanna speak for her, I'm fairly confident she'd agree that the process has been generally endurable, even pleasant, at least more pleasant than we anticipated it would be. There's been a surprising amount of laughter. The biggest laugh came on Tuesday, when I joined the Edie outside for the morning dog walk invigorated enough to actually go up to my office and and give writing by dictation, which is how I am doing this, a serious try. There are kinks in the system. I say "surely" and it types, stupidly, "Shirley."
My wife has been extraordinarily helpful and while I don't wanna speak for her, I'm fairly confident she'd agree that the process has been generally endurable, even pleasant, at least more pleasant than we anticipated it would be. There's been a surprising amount of laughter. The biggest laugh came on Tuesday, when I joined the Edie outside for the morning dog walk invigorated enough to actually go up to my office and and give writing by dictation, which is how I am doing this, a serious try. There are kinks in the system. I say "surely" and it types, stupidly, "Shirley."
Toward lunchtime, I walked downstairs. into the living room and kissed her on the head
"I feel almost like my old self again,” I said
She didn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she replied, earnestly.
We both laughed so hard I almost felt lightheaded
"I feel almost like my old self again,” I said
She didn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she replied, earnestly.
We both laughed so hard I almost felt lightheaded
