The End of Recovery

Today I went swimming for the first time since my other “first time” a few weeks ago.  The opening of my left breast incision is so small at this point, and I just couldn’t wait any longer. Of course, pretty much from the moment I got out of the pool, I felt sore right in that spot of the incision, and I still do now 12 hours later.  I just keep telling myself its psychosomatic.  Or I’m being punished for something.

Probably, I’m being punished because I plan to end my recovery on Friday.  What does that mean?  How can I just end my recovery?  Well, I laid around the house for two months. I took my medicine.  I rested.  I walked.  I didn’t vacuum or lift anything over 20 pounds, including my own child.  As of Monday, it will be ten weeks since my surgery, and Dr. Gimbel says at that time I can lift my son and return to using my abdomen and arms as normal.

But I’m doing it on Friday.  Here’s why: one day a week, I have my son all to myself – he doesn’t go to school, and we have a special day together including an activity he likes and a lunch date.  But for the last nine Fridays, he has gone to school since I haven’t been allowed to lift him and therefore cannot be alone with him all day.  This Friday, he is not going to school.  This Friday, we are having our special day.  We will do some errands and possibly go to the zoo.  We will have lunch at our favorite diner.  And I will lift him and hold him and carry him around as much as I want.

Because really, what’s three days – what’s the difference between Friday and Monday?  I’ll tell you the difference.  The difference is that on Friday, I’m done with recovery.  And Monday will just be another day in my life recovered.

(stay tuned for tomorrow’s post, when I will realize that of course this is far from over….tbc)


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