I survived my surgery. But it's amazing how sore I was. By Saturday night, my throat and neck hurt, my ribs, back and stomach hurt, my abdomen had sharp, shooting pains and dull throbbing pain, and my calves hurt.
Someone said, "You just don't bounce back quite as fast when you're 'older'." I guess I've reached that hallmark in life - I'm "older".
Saturday night, I sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, carefully put my breathing mask on my face, checked to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important around my alarm clock (where I put ALL critically important things), switched off my lamp, laid carefully down and gently covered up. I was laying completely still since moving just made me ache more, when Don and the dog came to bed.
They have this nighttime routine. The dog attacks Don, Don fights him off while allowing a few well-placed kisses. After they scuffle for a few minutes, Don shooes Donovan down to the bottom of the bed and they both settle down to sleep, Donovan curled up on my legs.
Needless to say, the activity on the other side of the bed was ill-placed. After cringing silently for several minutes while Donovan thumped against me and Don shoved and prodded, I finally lost my temper.
"Could you two PLEASE settle down!! I ache from the top of my head to the tip of my toes and you're jostling me. PLEASE!!! STOP!!"
The dog immediately made for the end of the bed. Don silently continued his routine of preparing for bed, but made an effort to still the bouncing from his side.
This morning, as I made breakfast for the children, Don peered around the corner into the kitchen.
"Feeling any better today, Mommy?" he asked.
"Yes," I responded enthusiastically. "I feel MUCH better. But I'm going to take it easy today and stick around the house, keep my feet up, rest, do laundry. . . that sort of thing."
No response, but I thought I saw a smile. Daddy's ready to have Mommy back, instead of this sore, grumpy woman who had surgery on Friday - the "older" woman.
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