Now I Know How the Slaves Felt

You know, the ones who exited Egypt with Moses (parting of the Red Sea, etc.?) After they escape to the desert, they turn into a bunch of whiny children, paralyzed with the fear of "What now?"

As of today, all my drains are out. I can drive and work as long as I lift nothing heavier than "a teacup or a telephone."  I'm not to do too much with my upper body, and now the LLBs and my own good behavior are the only things standing between me and deadly fluid buildup. All this kind of tentative movement and caution is for at least two more weeks, with my next appointment the day before Thanksgiving.

So what do I do now? When Rod dropped me off from my appointment today I was dazed and a little shell-shocked, not to mention sore and tired from my big "outing." (I had trained myself not to expect too much from my visits, and I hadn't really prepared myself to be freed of both of the remaining drains.)  The receptionist, when told they were gone, said, "You must be so happy!" Probably I am. But I've been tied to these things for so long, been careful with my movements, dreaded the inevitable tug and burn, measured output twice a day, every day, that I'm not sure what these next weeks are going to bring. I am very aware of what could go wrong, no matter how hard the doctor (and Rod & I) have worked. This summer's Louie infection/failure/removal misadventure taught me that.

For sure I don't want to go back to the "slavery" of the drains. Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to pick up the high school carpool; driving for the first time in almost a month, I'm a little scared. How will I know not to "overdo?"

I think it was once again my wise friend Lois who found a quote that I like for this particular quandary. ( I'm paraphrasing because I can't remember it exactly.) It's not precisely on point but it's close enough:  "If you want God to guide your footsteps, you have to be willing to walk."

Even though I'm pretty secure in the knowledge that I've got family and friends to nudge me appropriately forward or hold me sensibly  back, it's going to be challenging.

But - bed first, walk (drive?) tomorrow.