I wasn't sure how to open this entry, my first since I signed off before the surgery last week. But then my mom made it easy for me a few seconds ago with this question shouted from across the house so Wine Guy and I could hear,
"How's the pooping situation?"
Ah yes, Check your dignity at the door.
Today is the first day since my surgery (Jan 7) that I haven't wanted to die. This whole thing has been much worse than I ever could have imagined. And it wasn't because anything went wrong. In fact, if you asked the doctor, he would probably tell you it all went pretty smoothly. I just had no idea how awful hospitals are resting, sleeping and healing. Kind of ironic, huh? I think I was paired with every moaning, semi-hallucinating, explosive-diarrhea-making old woman who needed a hospital bed. Sleep was not had. Plus the anaesthesia made me terribly nauseous all the way through until just last night so eating was not happening either. And the fact that I can do ANYTHING for myself is frustrating for me and my caretakers I'm sure.
The good news is that I have terrific caretakers - my mom and Wine Guy - who have been so amazing that it makes me teary just thinking of it. They have worked together and separately to keep me afloat and I love them for it. WG has even stayed over at my mom's with me these last two nights and it's like having -- I guess they call it family -- by your side for those trying hours in the middle of the night when you need to pee, feel like bone is poking through your skin, and you can't get to your walker (yes, walker,) on your own. Speaking of my pimping form of transportation (won't be moving to crutches for a few more weeks) WG has "tricked it out" with colorful and necessary cushioning on the handles so now I'm looking stylish among the granny crowd.
I won't horrify you with too much more detail, plus typing on Percocet is a challenge to say the least. (It has provided me with a few interesting hallucinations though, mostly in the form of dogs, cats and other creatures that aren't really there darting around the hospital/bedroom. Strange.) But I was eager to get on here the moment I could to thank you all so much for your e-support, words of encouragement and concern. It has meant a lot to me. I look forward to catching up on what's been going on in your lives and hope to have more entertaining stories to tell you in the weeks ahead that hopefully won't have anything to do with poop, scars, bloating, or poop - did I say that already? My mom just asked how her Gatorade/Metamucil concoction tasted so it's on my mind :-)
Thank you all. Dismissed.