Beyond the chores of travel, I didn't ask for much help. I was raised to be independent, I cherish the idea and the reality of independence. And now - now, post SCA, post implantation of the Cheney-type device in my chest, I have a myriad of restrictions. So many, I posted them on a calendar with their respective countdowns. To create the illusion of control.
No lifting my left arm over my head (6 weeks); no lifting more than 10 pounds (6 weeks), no golf (varies by swing length - seriously!), and the big one due to having lost consciousness - no driving for 3 months. (Another day, I may be able to talk about the permanent no scuba rule, but too soon yet).
No driving 3 months, or 74 days now. The American essence of independence. I am fortunate in so many ways, and now one more - I can afford to hire someone to drive me around, at least for the major appointments. Or as we say in the South - to carry me around.
It grants me the illusion of independence. There is such a difference between taking kindnesses and paying for the rides.
I am far better at the latter. I pay for help more comfortably than I accept it.