Here we are, ten days after Mary’s heart surgery. She is doing well, but just as I predicted, she is trying to do too much already. Getting her to relax is nearly impossible. She is supposed to limit her stair climbing to a couple times a day, yet she is up and down cleaning, doing laundry, and just sort of bustling around unnecessarily. Then she gets tired and the pain catches up to her and she gets discouraged that her recovery is taking so long. Long? She is less than two weeks removed from surgery and she thinks everything should be back to normal. She is not a very patient patient.
Mary seems particularly proud of her 8” scar that runs down the center of her chest. She has always been particularly modest, never dreaming of going braless or lifting her top to expose her boobs. Yet she has unabashedly raised her top on several occasions to show someone her scar while at the same time flashing her boobs. Don’t get me wrong, they are wonderful breasts and I have often enjoyed seeing them in all their glory. But she must be channeling her inner hippy and flashing (pun intended) back to the unfettered sixties when going braless was as much a cultural statement as an act of freedom. I’m sure that when she has healed enough that she can again wear her bra, the flashing will stop and she will revert back to her modest self.
We have a visiting nurse who has been here three times so far as part of the surgical follow up. The nurse checks Mary’s vital signs and checks how the incision is healing and generally gives her guidance about what activities she can do and gives reassurance that all is going well. The nurse encourages her to take it slow and easy, but she is preaching to an unrepentant sinner. Mary will do what Mary will do. I try to slow her down but that is futile. Just yesterday she had me driving her to get her hair done, then out to lunch, and then some shopping for new towels. I am trying to be a good boy and take her where she wants to go since she is not allowed to drive yet (I may have to hide the car keys soon to keep her in check). I am trying to be an enthusiastic companion, but let’s face it, shopping for towels was not on my list of fun things to do. Maybe if they were sold in the hardware store…..but I went along and did my duty.
Driving her around and helping her around the house the past couple days has been an even more difficult chore for me than it would have normally been. On Monday I had a root canal scheduled to take care of a very achy tooth. Unfortunately the tooth was too far gone to make a root canal doable, so I had the tooth pulled instead. If you’ve ever had a tooth yanked out of your head you know that there is some nasty pain involved afterward. So Monday evening produced a pathetic display of whining and complaining from the two of us as we stretched out on our matching recliners while popping our matching Vicodin, trying to outdo each other in sympathy seeking. There were no winners.
Right now Mary is out to lunch with a friend who picked her up (no driving yet, remember). Then when she gets home she wants me to drive her around on some more errands. The resting and taking it easy part should be in there somewhere, but it is proving elusive once again. I may need a period of recovery to recover from her recovery. The saga continues.