It's really not all that bad for me right now. But I can no longer lift over 20 pounds on a regular basis, ever again. Which really doesn't sound like a big deal, until you consider that two milk jugs and a purse put me over the limit.
That means someone always has to help me with shopping if I'm to get things home and put away before frozens melt and refrigerated stuff isn't very cold any more. And considering that there are eight people in my family and I buy lots of stuff, someone big has to come along and push the cart while I walk about the store uselessly and direct him to pick up the stuff I want.
And my new limits mean someone always has to lift the vacuum and move the furniture about every week.
And when I unpack this year's summer clothes and put the winter ones away, someone has to get down each and every stupid bag for me.
Now when I go through boxes of school books, someone must be on hand to help with each. and every. stupid. box. No more getting stuff done while people are off at work/school.
That means I sit around like a stupid prima donna all the time and have to ask everyone else to do MY work for me, but I don't get the benefit of being genuinely lazy.
No more re-arranging furniture on a whim, going on trips alone, or really much of anything you think of as "completely independent." Real yardwork, even, is completely over. I'm not trying to be melodramatic (and I don't really feel that way, despite my itemized list here on the blog), but it really does put a great restriction on my life. Not enough to be truly disabling in the classic sense of the word, but bahh. Just enough to feel sorta useless.
Have you ever had to make adjustments like this, and make others understand and respect your new limitations? Maybe this sounds silly, but it is the ordinary requests that are very hard for me. For example, a room is becoming more crowded and new tables are needed to be brought in. "Everybody" is supposed to go help move the tables and chairs. I'm left doing nothing and looking like an inconsiderate bum OR explaining all about my medical history to strangers.
It's weird and I'm never really sure how to deal with that. I don't want to be some old person who when people ask, "How are you?" go into the whole thing... but I also don't want to be all "everything is ok" and have people wonder why I'm so goshdarn lazy.
I think the hard part is that I will never get "better" and people don't want to hear that, or maybe think I say that for my own convenience. I can't tell.