Size of a barn

Besides becoming the size of a barn while recuperating I have learned something about myself and Rick.

I always knew this to a point...but oh my did the ugly come out with this knee surgery and his hernia surgery just a couple of weeks ago.

Rick will never ever read instructions, doesn't care about what the doctor told him he could or couldn't do. When given his hand out of post-op instructions he never looked at it. I did. I put it in front of him to read. He ignored it.
I finally read it out loud to him to be sure he at least heard it. He did not care and he said he heard me but I think what he really heard was, wah, wah, wah.

Oh hell no he won't read any directions or instructions, he would prefer to do what he wants and have a 2nd surgery to fix what damage he caused before he would ever think of doing what he's told. The big fool.  I really thought this only pertained to him when it came to putting together things, such as IKEA furniture and his aversion to directions. But nope, all directions from everyone and anyone it seems. The first operation for him in his life so this was new to me. Sounds like he may have an issue with authority. The damn old coot.

I, on the other hand, follow the instructions to a T. He said to drop crutches on the 2nd day - drop crutches.
Said to walk as much as possible. Walk until I cry.
Where I don't normally listen is the amount of medication they tell me to take.
I hate the opioid drugs. Honestly, if they would say, here is some cannabis to relieve your pain. Fine. Percocet, not so fine. By day two I am dealing with hives on top of my head to my toes. I'll deal with the pain after the 2nd day without the Percocets. I hate the way the pills make me feel as well. But my way isn't much better than his. I need to slow down. I just feel like this should be further along than what it is. I am very impatient and seeing this is ugly.

I also learned that my husband who keeps making food and shoving it in my face will one day wake up and be horrified when I am 2 sizes larger. I also need to learn to tell him NO, no matter the sad puppy eyes he gives me. Or the, 'you need to eat to get better lecture' he gives me. I repeat, "I'm not sick Rick, I had knee surgery. Food is not penicillin or a miracle cure for a torn meniscus"

Honestly, he can't help himself. He needs a 12 step program.
He and all the grandmothers and moms out there.  They can learn that food is not love despite what his Italian-American mother told him. He may have been adopted but he really absorbed that trait from her. He also needs to realize that one can survive 15 minutes without putting food in their mouth. **gasp**

The afternoon he woke me up to ask me if I was hungry I knew he had a problem. Yes, it was dinner time, my room was dark, it was dark outside, I was fast asleep. I could eat whenever I woke up for Pete's sake.
I need to find a facility for this old grandma like hubby of mine.
Is there a rehab for this guy?

One can't eat 3 meals and be sedentary and think their jeans are going to fit. Nope, too tight. Got 'em on yesterday, but I prefer to wear my pants AND continue to breathe! Silly me. So I am only eating what I make I proclaimed Tuesday morning. He said he was fine with that. I am taking my kitchen back. No more of these meals that are so heavy and yummy with awesome sauces.
I need to get back on the wagon here bud before I am twice the woman you know and love.  Wishing your husband could and would cook is a double edge sword. Trust me on this.

In the meantime it's a damn good thing my knee is still swollen and most of my pants & jeans are slim legged and I can't wear them over this knee. Whew. I'm in sweats yet again.