While I am feeling better and getting stronger every day, nonetheless, I still have a broken leg. It exhausts me to walk with crutches. Last night, I made home-made spaghetti, meatballs, and baked a loaf of Italian bread. The cleanup was tiring, because (as I say to my partner), "I used ever pot and pan in the kitchen" so there was a lot of cleanup to do, while standing like a flamingo on one leg at the sink.
My partner has been very protective of me, insisting on me not going out anywhere since he is afraid that I could fall, or become tired and ... fall. He is so afraid of my falling that he has clamped a very tight lid on my ideas for doing anything out of the house. He wasn't all that happy that my brother kidnapped me to take me to dinner at my sister's house. But my family can impose their will sometimes.
What I didn't tell my partner is that on Thursday, a friend picked me up and took me to a critical meeting with the top legislative official in our county. It was the only time this official was available, and we needed to plead our case with her before the upcoming brutal county budget battles. My friend dropped me off in front of the county office building. While she drove around back to park, I entered through the handicapped entrance and waited for her in the lower lobby. Helpful county employees held the door for me. I made it to the meeting and back home without a problem, and without much walking. I was tired, but not wiped out.
I thought, though, that I shouldn't mention to my partner that I went to the meeting. He would not be happy about it. However, I was feeling guilty about not telling him, and I don't lie to him. Sometimes, though, I delay when I will speak with him about certain matters to a time when I know he will be most receptive.
Yesterday afternoon, my partner and I were talking about the family dinner on Friday night, how much I enjoyed it, and seemed to do well in getting there and back. He said, "you did great for your first real trip out since your accident (not counting visits to the doctor)." It was then that I said, "um... well, it was the second trip." I told him about my previous day's excursion.
He just rolled his eyes and said, "well, I'm glad you were okay, but tell me about these things, alright?" He did not become angry, as I thought he might, but he was displeased. We had a talk about it, and I told him that as far as I knew, my next trip out would be when he takes me back to the doctor's office in two weeks.
I looked forward and really don't have anything that I have to do out of the house until the next doctor's visit anyway. But it sure felt nice to get out....
Life is short: don't keep secrets.
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