June 1991:
I was allowed to keep my weekend job, with the 10-pound restriction. I loved working at the country club, with the golfers on Friday night, and the Sunday Buffet. When my favorite customers found out I'd married, I made more in tips that night than I'd made the previous months. The busboys babied me, and wouldn't let me carry anything expect two plates. Doctor told us to refrain from intimacy until the bleeding had stopped for three days.
On one of these third days, I planned our 'honeymoon dinner'. I'd fixed something special and eagerly anticipated my new husband's return from work.
And then I decided to visit the pool.
I was floating on my back after swimming a lap, and decided to close my eyes, take a breath, and tip my head back, going into a gentle backward somersault. I surfaced, wiped my eyes, and swam to the shallow end to climb out and dry off. A quick check of my watch confirmed I'd been there for two hours, and D would be arriving home soon.
I went home and discovered blood in my swimsuit. I dried off, dressed, and put my feet up. D would have to finish dinner again, and there would be no intimacy that night.
Two weeks later, the doctor and I had a chat about what constituted 'moderate' activity, and why everything I did seemed to cause bleeding! Turns out what I was calling 'moderate', he called 'excessive'. In short, I was allowed to walk; dip myself in the pool and maybe go under, but NO acrobatics, no matter how gentle; no being on my feet for more than twenty minutes (the busboys kept track of my 'walking' time at work, lol!); and to enjoy my leisure time, because in another year I'd be wanting it again! I meekly hung my head and agreed.
I soon knew the entire daily line up of the CBS shows, and the Fox shows after the news at 10!
Today:
Taking the kids on 'field trip' and editing Ch 6 of Balancing Act. Yes, I goofed off yesterday....this entire week has flown!
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