My first post-op physical therapy session is in a week. I'm going to have to explain to her how I have been doing ten times the reaching, stretching, and lifting that I am supposed to. And before you suggest not confessing to her, consider this--if you have even a passing familiarity with this blog, you know I am incapable of keeping secrets, when I could have the opportunity for storytelling instead. I just accept that chastisement is in my near future. I'm at peace with that. I accept my failing grades.
Why have I not kept to the instructions not to raise my arms, lean down to touch the floor, or lift more than 5-7 pounds? Have you seen pictures of my six animals and one very compelling granddaughter? I spend a lot of time around all of them as the only adult human, and with that comes a lot of moving about. I pick up the baby about once every other minute when we are together, even if it is just dragging her up into my lap. The animals need me to open doors and reach for food bowls and cups constantly. I never had a chance at this. Maybe other breast cancer survivors have humans devoted to fetching and carrying for them. Me, I am not in a position to let all that happen around me, without getting involved.
I acquired the baby around noon today, and drove her to Target to meet up with her mommy. (Yes, I had her daddy load her into the car seat.) We needed a few things, not the least of which was some new CU clothes for her in size 2T (so they last more than just one season). We waited and waited in the car, until I finally gave in and walked into the store holding Valerie's hand (sometimes quite tightly so she wouldn't r-u-n-n-o-f-t in the parking lot.) I lifted her into the shopping cart, knowing she was triple my weight limit. We walked around slowly, so she could cart-surf and maintain her balance. When mommy finally showed up, I'm pretty sure Val's smile was powerful enough to knock out the lights in the store. We got everything we needed except a new, non-dog-eaten footstool for me. This means more shopping later. Uh-oh.
At the end of the evening, Harvey has been attentive to me, like he wanted to remind me that it was supposed to be ginger cat appreciation day, and I haven't taken enough pictures of him lately. I only got one really good one, and several goofy ones that I deleted immediately. I do appreciate my ginger boy, even if he only wears a ginger transparency over the top of a white suit.
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