(NOTE: If you are seeing this on Facebook, please go to my blog - chiachatter.blogspot.com - to see my whole post. I don't always make my point in the first paragraph, which is all that shows up on my Facebook page. I mean, if you actually want to see it all :).)
I am home, finally. After a stop at Walmart to pick up my new glasses...oh yeah, and the baby needs milk - and while we're here, I'd love some swiss cheese to go with my tuna! oops, we're out of... And before I know it was have a half-dozen bags of groceries, I'm literally ready to fall off my cart when it turns a corner, and I'm biting my lip from the pain under my right rib cage and the middle of my gut. I know I haven't literally hurt/pulled/ripped anything - but this will NOT happen again. I am staying home, unless *I* want to go somewhere for a walk or whatever.
My wonderful dear husband is now torn. He's trying desperately to find work - ANY work (he can do anything, and has a great old-fashioned work ethic!) as we've been without an income for 2 months and our savings are now depleted - and he wants to be here for me, take care of me, NEEDS to be here for me. And he's watching our grandson - my job but I can't do it - and the birds and the dogs and the house... I am worse than no help. I am an added burden to him. A burden he wants to carry but with everything else it is hard on him and it is my nature to try to help.
But I won't, not for a while. I can't. This is too important. He understands that. Still, after 24 hours together I see that he is carrying a lot...it is difficult, I need to let it be difficult though. It's only been 2 weeks and I hurt more than anytime since I left the hospital 9 days ago. So I just can't do anything about it right now.
My sheer exhaustion and 8-out-of-10 pain level is telling me so, in no uncertain terms, right now...
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