I’m not sure who this smiling paragon of light and love is. She must have been on drugs. Oh wait, she was.
This is more in keeping with what I remember my time in the hospital being like.
Incidentally, my sister is a nurse and she asked me WTF was going on with that IV. Truly it was the sloppiest thing I’d ever seen. My arms are a mess of bruises now, both sides.
And here’s how I’m looking today. I feel terrible. I had to quit the Dilautid because it was making me sick to my stomach and making me have terrible, scary dreams. I guess the good news is I’ll never be an addict. I don’t have the constitution for it.
I really don’t think I was adequately prepared for how bad the pain would be. Little things that you take for granted – like reaching for a glass of water – become major chores. Sneezing feels like it’s going to rip me open, and let’s not even talk about the phlegmatic cough I picked up in the hospital (apparently this is common?). I can’t sit for too long, but it also can’t lay on my back either because my insides feel all sloshy and weird.
And, apparently, I also wasn’t adequately prepared for post-op meals. I received a sheet of paper that told me to eat protein so that’s what I’ve been doing. Alas, I found a message board today where other women are talking about their first week post-op diets and it’s all light fare and broth. Oops.
So yeah, not sunshine and roses over here. Anything but.
Since I’m not getting great sleep I told Alan he should come sleep in the bed tonight. I think I’m about to make my way to the living room to see what’s streaming on Netflix because I’m certainly not falling asleep anytime soon.