I am the guy who always says I'm good, and after my surgery I said it about forty times while quietly drowning in logistics. Then my church small group made a schedule behind my back: meals on Tuesdays and Fridays, rides to physical therapy, someone mowing my lawn. I was embarrassed for exactly one week. Then I noticed something: every person who helped seemed glad to do it, like I had given them a gift by letting them. Recovery taught me that being cared for is a skill, and I am finally learning it at forty-seven.
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