The little things

I think we all have a well-meaning person in our lives.

They think that by telling you not to feel sorry for yourself and to get up and crack on you will recover much quicker.  This is not so.  And I seem hell-bent on learning this the hard way.

I should have known.  The same person told me to get my coat on and get my baby in the buggy and take a walk (uphill) to the shop less than 10 days after my C-section.  I did it, thinking fresh air would do me good – and ended up with a really nasty infection in my scar.  These people are the ones who are all too happy to give you advice over the phone, but they are never the ones who will show up or even offer to come over and help.  And if their conscience does prick them, they show up for a day and then tell you they are ill and can’t possibly help out in any other way….but they will always “be at the end of the phone” should you need them.

And then there are the people, who despite fighting many battles of their own, offer to drop everything, drive many miles, and get everything back in order housework wise!  And you know that they mean it and they would absolutely help you.

There are others that can’t help, and you don’t expect them too….but they throw you a vital lifeline in the form of constructive advice about crutch use (because they used to work in this kind of field), and they loan you a laptop indefinitely that becomes your absolute lifeline to the outside world.  You know, that had their own situation been better they would’ve been on the doorstep when you got home from hospital with everything under control.

It really is a case of the little things counting at the moment.

The point of me saying all this, isn’t to shame anyone or to make them look bad, but just to highlight my thoughts.  It really is when the chips are down that you discover who you can really count on, and who you never really could.

So.  After that period of digression, let me tell you about my day so far (it’s 11.30am)

I’ve just dragged a duvet cover full of wet laundry back upstairs to go in the dryer after I was told that I needed to stop relying on others and just get on with it over the phone yesterday.  Whilst I was downstairs I made myself some breakfast and a coffee (go me!), and now I’m back upstairs and I am completely. done. in. I’m back on the bed, typing this, wondering where I’m going to get the strength from to go back into the bathroom, get washed and dressed and ready for my hospital appointment in two hours time.  My advice giver has rung my phone out twice this morning, and I really can’t be bothered to answer.  I know they mean well, but I just can’t deal with hearing anymore right now.  I won’t be dragging any more laundry anywhere.  I’m going to basically sit on my butt now and bark orders.  No more listening to any advice from anyone who isn’t qualified to give it!

Before this, I thought it was easy to get on with normal life minus one leg…just a case of finding a different way of doing stuff.  But it’s a lot more complex.  So many different factors come into play and not just practical ones.  But the upshot of all this is, this situation is just temporary.  I will be back on my feet at some point soon.  I just need to accept that for now, I need to rest and I need to recover.  Maybe I need to use this lovely laptop to draw up a housework rota for my family who are just getting on with their lives. They are helping when I ask, but my teenagers seem to have lost the ability to switch a vacuum cleaner on.  I have a fantastic idea!  Maybe I should fashion one of my crutches into a some sort of cattle prod….any lame excuses and they get zapped!

Don’t put that idea past me……

 

 

 

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