The surgical site

Friends and family are being very kind since I returned home last week after the amputation of my right leg five days before that. They want to take me out to dinner or bring meals to me. 

A Philadelphia view from a swanky 15th floor doctor's office.

Unfortunately, I'm not as I appear. The surgical site (for some reason I balk at calling it my "stump" but I guess I won't after some time) is a bundle of raw nerves, a drain, and many black stitches pulling on red skin. It's hard for me to sit still for longer than a few minutes before either the site hurts or phantom pain or sensation does. I may look like someone who would rather do nothing other than sit and eat and watch TV, but when I'm not lying down trying, futilely, to get some sleep, I'm up and about, sweeping floors, vacuuming, things like that. 
I'm eating well enough, but I wouldn't say I'm enjoying meals, and eating with people I like wouldn't change that much. I've never been good at declining invitations gracefully (at my best, my degree of sociability has always been well below average) but I'm working extra hard on doing so now. I don't want to get pigeonholed as a grouchy amputee, best avoided.