I made it to Thanksgiving at my daughters. My x came and got me. It is a good thing as this recovery is kicking my butt. He put my oxygen machine in the back of the car, and I had my portable.
I was well enough to walk to their house that is being built around the corner from their rent house. Everyone says I look so good. Guess three months of this lifestyle change must be showing. I did dress up for Thanksgiving. I figured if I had to wear oxygen on my face I would sport it looking nice.
It was good to socialize, but I did very little to help with dinner or clean up and had to stay out of the kitchen as oxygen, and open flame doesn’t go well together. When I was tired, I excused myself and simply snuggled on the couch. I said my goodbyes from there. I spent the night on the couch so the kids could go to do their crazy Friday shopping.
Babysitting wasn’t hard. I didn’t have to do anything but sleep and wait for the granddaughter to come down the stairs. I hate to think this on the couch; the oxygen-toting person is my new normal. I had planned on being the vibrant grandma that camped and danced. Will I ever dance again? Not to worry. It is my job to heal. That is all I am supposed to do now.