A little story

Two weeks today, although it's hard to think about my measly problem, on the anniversary of such a day.
And hard to believe that such horror could have happened on a beautiful, sunny, September day in this country.

Yesterday, I did too much, and last night I paid for it.  Mostly I am bothered with the muscle spasms in my neck, that force me to the couch to rest.  It quite amazes me, how 'little' can be 'too much'.
 But then on the other hand, I guess I am amazed at how well I have done, given the nature of the surgery.
So today, Roy and I are laying low.
Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?
Do you have any idea how EASY that is for Roy?
Ha!

I have to tell you a funny story.

My middle daughter has a hectic life, what with a job, two busy children, and being a single Mom.  So often she would text me, or email me, when things were particularly tough, and say FML, which means   "eff my life".
We would laugh then, when my mother would be driving me nuts, and I would text HER, with FML.  It was a little joke between us, that sometimes life is not easy, and the best way to get through it is to joke about it, and plod on.
Middle daughter has received my workaholic/busy/neverstopforlong gene.  Poor girl.

So on the night before surgery, over dinner, my "last real meal" for awhile, we chatted, and laughed, and tried to deflect the fear we both had about what was coming.
It was a GREAT meal.  Neither of us eat meat, so it was a joint effort to find somewhere to eat that pleased us.
I was looking worn out, headache had been slamming me with a 9 for a whole month.

The restaurant was a lovely, bright place, and we had a glass of wine.   Hey, why not?
One last hurrah before the guillotine.
Kind of.

I told my daughter she was the only person under age 50 in the whole place.

I think mine was called the "energy platter".......hummus, falafel, and other wonderful Mediterranean food.
The manager came over, smiling, and asked us if we were driving.  We said, no, we were walking, and he refilled our glasses.

So back to the story.  I told daughter #2 that when I woke up from my surgery, I would say "FML", to prove that my mind was still intact.
If not, well, I was in trouble.

So in the recovery room, with daughter #1 and #2 hovering over me,  I allegedly came to, and whispered to her, "FML".
She started to cry, whereupon daughter #1 became all concerned, asking what was wrong.
When it was explained, they both laughed and cried together.

I remember nothing of this.  Don't remember thinking it, saying it, none of it.  But see, in my mind, which was still working ok, thank you GOD, I knew what I had to do, to put them at ease.

So while I am taking it easier today, I am reminding myself of all that I have to be thankful for.
Having my faculties, being able to walk and talk and function on my own.
Having family and friends who hold me up when I need it, in spite of myself.

Getting better, one day at a time.