That guilt reflex just kills me. My hysterectomy was only five days ago, but I still feel like I should be up and doing something productive. I'm letting my head lead my emotions though, and I'm taking it easy. Just because I've worked through some not inconsiderable pain for months now doesn't mean I always have to do that. Letting myself heal is smart.
I've crossed a bridge this last week. A hysterectomy is a big life change, but that's not the one I mean. My daughter is taking care of me. She drove me to the hospital and was the one pushing for answers while I was in recovery. She drove me to her house when I was discharged, carried my bags in, tucked me in bed and then went to get my prescriptions filled. She's cooking my meals and making sure I have everything I need. She's really being a complete angel, albeit one with a smart, funny and sassy mouth who will laugh at me holding my swollen belly while I laugh at something she said.
I'm not ready to hand over this baton and say my time of action and independence has come to an end, and I can't help but feel I've had my first taste of what will inevitably come.