Several weeks into my recuperation from the broken leg I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and thought, “My goodness, you look well!” realizing almost instantly that it was because I was so well rested. I have probably just emerged from the most prolonged rest of my adult life. My best week during this time of recovery was the week before I was told I could put weight on the injured limb. I felt well, was not in pain, but still couldn’t usefully do anything in the way of housework. I don’t think I realized what a precious and transient time this would be. I wasn’t really aware of the gift until it was over. Once I could easily carry a cup of hot tea across a room, or walk up and downstairs, or push a vacuum cleaner, it was all over. The more I am able to do, the less son and husband do. Why? Why is any contribution considered “helping” me, when really it should be an equitable contribution to the function of the household. Where have I gone wrong?