(no subject)

[jennlk]

I went to the gym again yesterday for more pool work. It felt good, and I pushed a little bit. And I still feel pretty good today, so that's a good thing. I'm going to try to get back in and do some weights either tomorrow or Saturday, and see how that goes. My trainer was there yesterday, and he says that I look much better than I did before surgery -- less pained in expression and movement. (He was on vacation the week I went back to the gym.)

I've had kids home since noon Thursday.... Oy. Half day on Thursday, no school on Friday (end of quarter stuff); then SR has been home sick since Monday (two colds back to back -- made it through the first one with just sniffles, but this second one has whacked her hard); and DB was home for a couple of days with a tummybug he picked up from his cousin over the weekend.

It's the little things that start to grate after a while. I still can't tie my shoes, because I can't stay bent over or squatted down long enough to do it. I can't wear jeans -- the back yoke seam irritates the scar on my back. I'm still stuck in my nest for 6-8 hours a day, because I can't sit up in a proper chair for more than a couple of hours at a time(even a nice supportive one). When I'm driving, I can't twist in the seat to see when I'm backing up, so I pull through in parking lots. And yet, it's just over 3 months since surgery, so I really shouldn't complain. I keep reminding myself of that.

Comments

[tanac.livejournal.com]

I totally get it about it being the little things that grate on you. And yes, it's only been three months - but that's THREE MONTHS. A hell of a long time, subjectively speaking. So don't feel like you have to be *too* Miss Pollyanna Perfectly Cheerful Injured Person.

That said, it *will* get better. *hugs*

[jennlk]

Heh. I know that, and I'm not trying to be Pollyanna, but.... Complaining doesn't help, yanno? (And it sets a bad example for the kids.) And I remember going to see my doc at 2 weeks to get the staples out, and I was already moving better than the lady on her way in as I was leaving -- and she'd had her surgery 4 weeks before mine (admittedly, she was probably 25 years older than me, but still....)

I hate doing nothing. That's really the hardest part. And all the stuff I can't do just piles up, because no-one else in the house will do it, unless I specifically ask. Usually more than once. Grumbling about it just makes it worse, so I try not to grumble. (So I'm trying not to think about what I'm missing at Windy, and mostly succeeding.)