I'm still on restricted lifting since my surgery, and it is driving me absolutely nuts! Everybody who knows me knows that I'm independent and get things done. And when you can't lift much of anything, it's hard to do that.
And let me just add that Nov. 5 will be eight weeks since my surgery and the end of my lifting restrictions. I told Jeff that I want to get up that morning and just pick up something heavy!
Biscuit and Jeff have both been great about helping me. I can't carry the laundry hamper, so Biscuit pushed it from our bedroom closet to the laundry room. He also helps me carry bags into the house when we do the shopping.
Once Jeff explained the restrictions to Biscuit, Biscuit started worrying about it. I explained to him that I was being careful and that it wasn't anything for him to be concerned about, but he said he just wanted to help.
One day, when I picked him up at school, he grabbed his bookbag and held out his lunchbox for me to carry it. As I reached for it, he jerked it back and said, "Wait! Does my lunchbox weigh more than 10 pounds?"
"No, baby," I said. "But thank you for asking."
Yesterday evening, I asked Biscuit to take a small bag of trash to the big container outside. So he grabbed the bag and started walking toward the back door.
"Dude, today was trash day, so the cans are out in front of the garage," I told him.
"I know, Mom," Biscuit said, but he was still walking toward the back door.
Getting a little exasperated because I thought he wasn't listening to me, I said, "The front door. Go out the front door."
Biscuit looked at me, sighed and walked toward the front door.
As he made his way down the hall, he said "Just so you know, I'll be going outside without my shoes on,"
"What do you mean? Get your crocs," I said.
"That's what I was trying to do, Mom," he said holding his hands out beside him. "But my crocs are by the back door, but you just kept telling me to go to the front door."
"Well come on back and get them," I said.
I really hate having to admit I'm wrong to him!