That is how life works.
There I am, just carrying on.
Busy, for sure.
Two weeks of nonstop subbing.
Now working on a few articles.
Girl Scout cookie time which is one of my many UNPAID full-time jobs.
But I got it.
Everything is busy, but under.control.
We knew M was going to have surgery, provided his eardrum was dry today.
No surprise there.
And it's a minor surgery.
But I was expecting maybe three weeks of recovery.
Not so much.
No sports or PE for three weeks.
Recess...probably not for awhile.
Ear packed for 6 weeks.
Doctor visits every two weeks.
Water restriction for 6 weeks to three months.
I had to come home and reschedule our Spring Break 3-day trip.
Going to a water park is not fun if you cannot get in the water at all.
None of this is life-threatening, life-altering.
The surgery will (hopefully) take and (hopefully) restore his full hearing.
It did for me when I was a kid.
But it marked the wall.
The place where I felt myself give out.
The spot where my shoulders felt heavy.
The realization that the skin on my head actually aches.
I'm tired.
The walking humanized intrusive thought who lives in our house--G--
said, "He'll survive."
But I'm not worried that he won't survive.
(More than just that little naggy worry that surgery comes with inherent risk.)
I didn't realize the recovery slog would be so.....sloggy.
There I am, just carrying on.
Busy, for sure.
Two weeks of nonstop subbing.
Now working on a few articles.
Girl Scout cookie time which is one of my many UNPAID full-time jobs.
But I got it.
Everything is busy, but under.control.
We knew M was going to have surgery, provided his eardrum was dry today.
No surprise there.
And it's a minor surgery.
But I was expecting maybe three weeks of recovery.
Not so much.
No sports or PE for three weeks.
Recess...probably not for awhile.
Ear packed for 6 weeks.
Doctor visits every two weeks.
Water restriction for 6 weeks to three months.
I had to come home and reschedule our Spring Break 3-day trip.
Going to a water park is not fun if you cannot get in the water at all.
None of this is life-threatening, life-altering.
The surgery will (hopefully) take and (hopefully) restore his full hearing.
It did for me when I was a kid.
But it marked the wall.
The place where I felt myself give out.
The spot where my shoulders felt heavy.
The realization that the skin on my head actually aches.
I'm tired.
The walking humanized intrusive thought who lives in our house--G--
said, "He'll survive."
But I'm not worried that he won't survive.
(More than just that little naggy worry that surgery comes with inherent risk.)
I didn't realize the recovery slog would be so.....sloggy.
No comments:
Post a Comment