The Monday following Thanksgiving, I succumbed to something I never thought I would. I had a hysterectomy. I was a little apprehensive about this, given that the men in my life love being taken care of and not the other way around.
I was pleasantly surprised at the effort they made, however. My lovely and generous friends rose to the occasion cooking fantastic meals, and bringing me reading material with it, thus lessoning the burden for the menfolk who, picked up (a little), did the dishes (mostly), and washed a few loads of laundry. In short, nothing in general was expected of me. They were kind, sweet, considerate, and the boys didn’t fight. The boys did their homework, ate dinner without complaint, and were amazing.
12 days later, the honeymoon was over.
“If you can drive, you can cook dinner,” Bugs informed me.
“It’s been almost two weeks. How much time do you need?” Says Buzzard.
“I’ve used up all my ‘nursing skills’,” DH says, after giving me a small, squeezing hug.
Roo remained strangely silent, smart boy that he is.
To be fair, after experiencing a Pulmonary Embolism in March, they have taken care of me a lot this year.
I guess there is a limit.