And yet it still feels like death warmed over.
Got on the computer to e-mail my agent & let him know I was still alive & finally home from the hospital, & thought I should let My Darlings know the same.
Yes, I am alive.
No, I don’t feel all that hot.
Yes, the surgery went well. (According to my doctor. If you ask me, you’ll get a response more along the lines of .)
No, I do not think I like spinal anesthesia, even though they assured me it was soooooo much better than the regular kind.
Yes, I was right that the surgery was actually needed to be done, which my doctor finally acceded to after they’d tested my dead old uterus & realized the endometriosis has worked its way into the muscle lining & was, indeed, causing major problems. (I file this under “I Told You So.”)
No, I am not sure I’m happy I had it done because Ouuuuuuuuuuch, dammit! I complained about how bad my cramps were every month, & this is like cramps on acid.
Yes, I quite enjoyed the morphine pump they gave me to administer my own pain meds.
No, I do not enjoy having adverse reactions to narcotic painkillers that cause migraines & nausea, & not only make recovery ten times worse, but keep me in the hospital longer than expected.
Yes, I am relieved to finally be home.
But, no, I’m not enjoying being here.
Basically, I do a lot of sleeping, or lying around waiting until it’s time to take another pain pill so I can go back to sleep.
I shuffle around a bit in between to keep from getting blood clots or atrophying completely.
I pretend to watch TV, but probably couldn’t tell you what happened in any of the shows I’ve seen. And the few I’ve tried to pay attention to had to be rewound & started over about six times because I kept nodding off. (It’s the jaw surgery/Elf marathon all over again! )
Forget about reading; I can only get through about two lines before everything starts to blur & I go cross-eyed.
Forget about writing. By hand, I’m still shaky, so anything I try to write down looks like a second grader who’s just learning cursive wrote it. Typing is a little better…I think. But since my brain isn’t working all that well, I can’t even be sure this makes sense.
Let’s just say that if it goes live tomorrow morning & turns out to be some far-out grocery list or deep-seated sociopathic manifesto…well, I’ll blame it on the drugs. Yes, that’s it—it’s the drugs.
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