Day #577 The Not-So-Gory Details

About three weeks after the rectocele repair surgery, I emailed Petie about the experience. I’m sharing part of that email with you. If you don’t read anything else, read the second paragraph of the email:

As to the surgery? Well, dear friend, it could have been a lot worse. I went on line yesterday and found all sorts of horror stories about people who'd had rectocele repair surgery -- glad I didn't read any of them beforehand. The surgery was successful, but what I'd thought would be a simple one or two week recovery period is stretching out much longer. I still can't drive -- still can't sit comfortably. I'm STANDING at the kitchen counter right now, with my laptop on it. That's the only way I can handle e-stuff.

I made hospital history by being the only person the nurses had ever seen who'd gone through this type of surgery without any narcotics for pain management. Despite an anesthesiologist who ARGUED with me ("You're going to need it. The pain will be horrible otherwise") and a surgeon who was vocally supportive at my pre-op appointment ("Sure - we can try intravenous tylenol") but who left the operating room to tell my friends in the waiting room that, although the surgery had been successful, "She's going to need morphine to handle the pain. I know she wants to do it without narcotics, but be sure you encourage her to ask for the morphine when she needs it."  Good grief. Not only did I not need it, I wasn't even tempted. The Tylenol worked just fine. On a scale of 1 to 10, my pain was zero. Of course, when I left the hospital the next day, things became a bit more challenging, but I'm dealing with them.

My blessed friends in the area have been so supportive. Don't know how hermits manage. Scooping litter boxes, bringing food, returning library books, checking my P.O. box, driving me to the doc for my two-week follow-up appointment. I tend to forget how much I use my car, until I can't drive any more. It'll be another two weeks, probably...

I was feeling like a real wimp there for a while, but I ended up calling the surgeon's office a week and a half after the surgery. Talked to the nurse.  "I run out of breath and run out of energy all the time," I whined, "and the stitches itch and I can't sit down without crying." I might have gone on like that a long time, but when I paused to take a breath she said, "Sweetie, you've had major surgery. Your body needs all that energy that you usually spend on other activities just to heal." She went on to say that this type of surgery is worse for women than a hysterectomy. Just have to give myself time to heal.

So, that explains the four naps a day. Miss Polly absolutely loves it, because she gets to curl up in the curve of my body and keep my tummy warm. The other day I woke up to find her in the crook of my arm. I managed to take a picture of her paws and two of her face before she squirmed out of reach.

 

There is something so comforting about an old green flannel shirt when I'm feeling lousy. Add a cat, and the picture is perfect.

Then I noticed that Daisy was asleep on the piano. She stayed there until I could get up. Photo's fuzzy, but I love the way it shows her perky white whiskers:

And this gladiola (first one to bloom this summer) was waiting for me when I finally made it to the mailbox.

Enough. Time for my first nap of the day.

     --Fran

A week later, I was begging a friend to bring me M&Ms - I was VERY tired of eating all the healthy stuff.

BEEattitude for Day #577:

       Blessed are those who bring M&Ms when asked to do so, for they shall create happiness.

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The teeny details:

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