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Day Five, Post-Surgery
Sunday, July 8, 2007 Hello. Hi. Whatcha up to?
Oh, me? I am sitting in bed. Still. Yeah, it's a thrill ride. Just an hour or so ago, one of the cats licked my right big toe, and I said Aw, thanks, nice kitten!, and he said Myeh!. Those were good times.
No, wait. I think the codeine has squelched some of the synaptic firings through my grey matter, because I forgot that That Girl took Savia, the Palinode, and I out for lunch. I ate this guacamole-chicken-brie sandwich thing, which was really quite good, I think, and everyone talked and talked about stuff that I kept missing chunks of, because I was staring out the window at this dull expanse of leveled earth that stretched for blocks west and south of the restaurant. All that was left for it was to become more warehouse stores and asphalt slaps and knots of cheap condominiums painted grey or salmon. I wondered what was there before the faux mongolian grill moved in to service the shoppers trapped in the webwork of big box stores.
Parking lots are depressing.
Part of this disengagement stems from my complete lack of patience with enfeeblement. That Girl had to help me open the door to the women's bathroom, because it was too heavy for me. My hysterectomied gut has been swollen and hanging out like I am six months along, and none of its muscles have the wherewithal at the moment to do any complex activities that involve flexing. Also, that door was really heavy. I betcha it was solid wood.
I am not even allowed to pick up my favourite cat, because he is at least three pounds over the ten-pound weight limit that has been set for things I can move. There are benefits, though, which I have to keep in mind. I just pressed the Palinode into service so that I could get my hands on another bottle of beer, and not only being allowed but being expected to stay in bed and watch television and make requests for beer and various food items is a gift I should not begrudge.
Of course, I would probably be more thankful if I did not have to rip out all my baby belly hairs with first aid tape every day to redress my incisions. The little roll of tape the nurse gave me at the hospital to get me started turned out to be Eat Through Stomach Skin Tape, which I don't remember specifically requesting, but then I went through twelve doses of morphine and four of demorol in a six-hour period, so my account of the events cannot be trusted. I tried some other first aid tape from the pharmacy, but it left far too much adhesive behind. I looked like a marshmallow had exploded onto my abdomen. Now I am relying on the creative use of band-aids tailored with scissors to cover my incisions. My belly looks like an alternative game of tic-tac-toe, only O left the game and X kept playing. At least the band-aids leave me my skin. Almighty.
I think codeine makes me a whiny bitch.
Love,
Da Schmutz.
Reader Comments (13)
You were surprisingly articulate for someone so tired. I'm impressed you were able to come out at all, so yay you!
Also, I think your incisions are sexy.
Very sexy, in that Flesh for Frankenstein way.
And I clearly recall you in the recovery bed, shouting out 'Gimme that tape that eats my skin! Gimme it, you bitch! I ain't lying!' And drank rapidly a glass of water.
Let it air dry, plenty of saline solution. Zinc & vitamin E to keep down redness and swelling. You can do it, don't be afraid of scars and things. Exfoliate when there isn't pain and you'll be up and around in no time flat. I am not a doctor but I play one on T.V.
Ooooh.
I think you should listen to Mr., I mean DR., Head.
That sandwich is the kind that SOUNDS really good on the menu but falls apart easily. Did it have toasted bread too? That's the killer.
Did you have any visions when you were under all that morphine?
OK Whiney Bitch, I'm glad to hear you 'cause I think it means you're doing well. And still writing and now going out? Excellent!
I'm guessing that you pulled the left column to make room for a larger font? I like some of the stuff you had over there, esp. twitter (in fact, I copied you in that :).
Do the ads make much money? Just curious...
Off to the Whiney Bitch blogroll...
'Lena
I pulled the left column, because things looked too cluttered with the larger font. The only thing that I no longer have here is my Twitter updates, which I couldn't find a good place for. The blogroll highlights are still around and are at the foot of each post.
I just found my way here from blackbird's site. You poor baby. I had my female parts ripped out by the roots, too, a few years back. (That's my dear departed MIL's expression, not mine.) Anyway. Although you will recover fast from the laparoscopy (ask me how I know), you should know that it will probably still take six weeks to feel completely normal again (go ahead, ask me). It's difficult for others to understand that, although it may be been several weeks since your surgery and you can stand and walk and go to the grocery store and stuff, you are still not ready to plant those seedlings from the nursery nor clean the attic like you have been promising to do for months. (Yup, ask me how I know.)
Healing vibes coming your way -- enjoy the invalid time, it don't ever last as long as it should.
I hope you will be tape free soon.
You have every right to be a whiny bitch. So whine away.
I'm off on Wed and Thurs, so if you're bored or need to get out, gimme a ring.
Love ya girl!
It was kind of nice to feel like I had enviable upper body strength, even if it was in comparison to someone full of pain meds and post surgery woes.
Well since Dr. Head and kmkat are offering advice, I'll be obnoxious and offer some of my own.
I don't know if anyone warned you about this or not, but anytime you are under anesthesia for a lengthy operation it can take a while for all the ickiness to get out of your system. That said, you may hit a period of unexplained depression a week or two after the surgery. So you may indeed be a little depressed and just hang on because it could get worse. Hopefully not, but it can be a common after-effect of anesthesia. I will keep my fingers crossed, though, that the anesthesia-depression-monster does not befall you!
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