Okay. I’ll admit it. I overdid it on Thursday. The post-op instructions said not to do anything strenuous on Wednesday so Thursday was The Day, right? I was feeling better, for sure. When I went to bed Thursday night, I was exhausted. Normally, a good night’s sleep is all I need to make me feel halfway human (my normal) but it was not to be. I’d emptied the old bod’ of all its energy and I was going to pay for it. I’d thought I might be up to going to town yesterday. HA! I laugh on your lapel.
I was hurting. I took a pain pill at 8:30 p.m., another at 12:30 a.m. and a third at 4:30 a.m. What little oomph I had left was wiped out.
Even so, I woke early. That’s usual for me. I might not get up but I’m most always awake by 6 or 6:30. I went out on the deck and saw a beautiful sky. I had to get my camera and capture it.
My cousin was outside, too, and I waved at her. The phone rang when I got back in the house. I’d asked her to let me know when she was going to the bank. I had a check I needed to deposit. She would be there later in the day. I told her I’d bring the check over. Bad decision.
Walking to the house and visiting for a few minutes, then walking home knocked the stuffin’ out of me. She’d given me a couple of small cinnamon rolls a crew member’s wife had baked. I put them where I knew they’d be safe and took my thyroid med. I stayed up long enough I could take the antibiotic and then I went to bed. It was noon when I woke.
I hadn’t had anything to eat and I don’t remember what I breakfasted on at that late hour. I spent a lot of the rest of the day in bed.
Last night, it occurred to me that a well-meaning person or two might decide I should be visited today. There was no way I could welcome anyone into this house and I sure didn’t want to sit on the deck to entertain so I made a sign.
It got taped to my front door inside the storm door. I was reasonably sure I would be left alone. The Hermitess.
After all my bed time and not doing much other than eating, showering and one load of laundry, I went to bed sans pain pill. At midnight, I got up and took half a dose of melatonin and went back to bed.
This morning, after an uneventful night, I went out on the deck and spied my cousin sitting on the back steps. I made my way over and we had a short visit. She offered me another cinnamon roll but I hadn’t touched the ones she’d given me the day before so I turned it down. I didn’t stay long. She wasn’t feeling like doing a do-si-do herself.
After dosing myself with the usual, I went back to bed for a while. Seems any amount of exertion is too much. I’ve been firing on fewer cylinders than I should for a long time but it seems I have a fraction of the energy I did a month ago.
Being out of almond milk (I still haven’t heard back about the carton I’m leery of using), I mixed up some non-dairy chocolate milk and had hot chocolate.
Years ago, when Mother and I lived on the campus of a small boarding school, Sabbath morning breakfast for the dorm kids was a sack lunch of a cinnamon roll and an apple. There would be other things, too, but the roll and apple seemed to be the basis for the rest. I decided I would try the rolls.
They seemed a bit under-baked so I wrapped one with foil and heated it thoroughly. When I tried it, it had a decided “buttery” taste. I haven’t eaten butter in so long, it was rather off-putting. I cut the bottom off the other one and heated it up. It was better without the sugar/butter mixture. Needing to boost my protein intake (to stitch my innards back together) I ate a small spoonful of peanut butter.
I’ve been making it a point to wash dishes as I go so I won’t have them pile up like I have when I was feeling so rotten. Dishes out of the way, I came in and listened to the rest of the Sabbath School discussion. The facilitator has a pronounced accent and it’s tiring for me to concentrate hard enough to understand what he’s saying. That over, I went back to bed.
Sometime after 3 p.m., I decided I would go to the mailbox. Surely I could make it that far and I hadn’t been since Thursday. Here’s what I found rolled up and stuck in the handle of the storm door:
It was very thoughtful of him to go out of his way to stop by but even more thoughtful not to ring the doorbell.
Going on to the mailbox, I had second thoughts about my trek but I was almost all the way there and I’d have to go back, anyway. I continued on.
I had two thick envelopes from Humana and two cards, one from my sister and the other from the surgeon’s office. Saving the ones from Humana, I opened my sister’s and the surgeon’s. It’s the first time I’ve ever gotten a get well card from a doctor but that was very nice. A handwritten note on the inside thanked me for choosing them to take care of me. Actually, it was my PCP who had made the choice. I wouldn’t have thought our little town had a surgeon of that caliber. My sister has said how much she enjoys making cards and this one is very appropriate.
She’d also tucked in some funds to help with my co-pays saying she’d weighed flowers against practical and practical won. That was very sweet and not expected. She’s like that, though. There was a nice border around the picture but my scanner chose to crop it off and I’m not up to arguing with it.
My adopted sister who moved to Hawaii without me sent a message on Facebook asking if I’d gotten her cards. No, I hadn’t then and I haven’t yet. I hope they haven’t gotten lost on the way.
I know there are scads of ripe figs on the tree. I took a little container and gathered four plus a tomato that’s close to being ripe. The figs were my appetizer. I opened a can of black-eye peas and cooked some rice noodles. There was a bit of frozen broccoli I’d cooked and stored weeks ago so I had half of it. A few ripe olives rounded out the meal. I’m trying to eat more but I don’t have much appetite yet. I’d lost another lub this morning but I’d gained one yesterday so that’s kind of a wash.
I’d wondered when I’d get around to pooping and today was the day. I went four times before noon. I should be caught up with my evacuation.
This evening, there was an email from my friend from Oz, Peach. She was horrified that I would be sent home the same day my gallbladder was removed. I don’t know how they do it in Australia, but it’s same day surgery here unless the patient has to be opened. If my cousin hadn’t spoken up and said I could stay with her and my CIL, the surgeon was going to keep me in the hospital. She was a bit concerned I wouldn’t want to go to her place for the night, but when the nurses were discussing it, I piped up, “I’ll stay with HER.” And then I was concerned because I had invited myself. As she said later, two great minds…
Speaking of the nurses, when the surgical nurse was looking for a vein on the back of my hand, she said it was so nice to find good veins on a patient. She’d had nothing but “horrible” ones all day. Post-surgery, when she was taking the IV out, she said, “You have beautiful skin.” I’d never thought of my skin as beautiful but I guess when you contend with easily bruised fragile skin, mine does seem nicer. I hope it stays that way.