Here's how I know I'm about 98% healed and back to normal after my surgery: Georges came home early from work yesterday with a nasty cold and a small fever, and I'm able to take care of him for a change! (Also, last night I slept on my RIGHT side for awhile, which is a first.)
Not only that, this morning I hopped a bus to our old neighborhood near the Mairie du 18ème to do some shopping on the Rue du Poteau (involving three different stores including the Monoprix which is a mob scene on a Saturday morning; I had to be insane to even walk in the door). Then I stood in line for 15 minutes to get a freshly roasted free-range chicken and cooked potatoes from our favorite place, Maistre Mathieu. And finally, I came home again on the bus, loaded down with a very heavy shopping caddy and several bags -- and got it all home and hauled it up the stairs (luckily only one flight) and into the apartment, all by myself. And I didn't even collapse when I got home, either; I unpacked the shopping, had lunch with Georges, and then hung up some wet laundry to dry.
Ok, so yes, I am tired after all that and my stamina isn't where it was two months ago before all this began. As soon as I finish this post I will probably take a nap. But the point is, I can actually do this stuff again. I never thought I'd be happy to be able to do laundry, run domestic errands, and drag a heavy shopping cart home on the bus and up the stairs, but NOT being able to do it is much worse.
As proud as I felt about having survived my first out-of-the-neighborhood shopping excursion, I must admit that I was a little tempted, as I waited for the bus home in the freezing cold with all my bags and the heavy shopping cart, to complain to myself about how tired I felt.
Until I saw a woman at the bus stop pushing a double stroller containing two very, very tiny twin babies, frantically trying to get herself and her newborns on the bus and out of the cold... and I promptly shut my mental mouth about what "tired" really feels like.
There is no tired like the tired of a sleep-deprived (x2 babies, no less) new mommy. We got off the bus at the same stop and as she sped by me at top speed, clearly desperate to get those babies home and out of the cold, all I could do was send this silent blessing after her: "Madame, I hope you get just 5 minutes to yourself today to put your feet up."
