The last few days have been a learning experience.
The big one for me is that I can let myself be looked after and not grumble about it. I can be out of my comfort zone and still act with some grace. And I can ask for help. And I'm a reasonably good house guest. So good, I ended up chopping up most of the vegetables for what felt like a swimming pool full of chilli con carne for Blarney's rugby club open day.
I've also drunk copious amounts of tea. I do that at Blarney's place.
I'm home now.
Barney dropped me about an hour or so ago.
Somewhat amazingly, I got up the stairs without blinking - mind you I can't carry anything up the stairs, but I went up them, twice, with no dramas, no pain, or no shortness of breath (Maybe being fit has its benefits).
I'm glad I'm home. I'm good now.
Even better, the cat is ecstatic. After being shoved in the cage, driven back home and taken up the stairs, he's now wandering around, purring, popping for a headbut or two and generally making it known that he's happy. He's settled on the bed on his blanket. It's lovely to see, seeing he's been sitting in a cupboard for the last few days - of his own accord, of course.
And I'm sitting here at my laptop, thinking that ten minutes is about all I can do at a stretch.
At least I know my limits.
I'm home. I'm not in pain (Panadol is taking out the last of the grumbles). I'm moving about.
Four days on from surgery, I see this as a result. I'm healing well.
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