Getting Vertical

I had hoped to report success on my latest goal this morning--being able to get out of bed (or even up off a couch) by myself. Alas, it is not yet to be.

Imagine lying on your back on a soft surface, like a mattress or a sofa. Imagine a 200 lb. anvil lying across your chest at about underarm level. Now, rise to a sitting position, without using your arms, hands, wrists or elbows (feet and toes are OK, but once you try this, you realize "so what?" -- your feet and toes won't help you). Aha! Now you see the problem? You realize that your 54-old abs are in pathetic shape, you spend 5 or 10 minutes thinking of all the physics involved, rolling around on your back, trying to scootch your hips, and mentally seeing yourself magically levitating to an upright position. Then you give up and wake up Bill, who sticks out a masterfully strong hand and shoves you up and forward, without ever breaking stride in his snoring.

Tomorrow, I think. I'll sit up by myself tomorrow. It is good to have a goal, even if attaining it is just out of reach. Something inspiring about man's reach exceeding his grasp, perhaps, would be best inserted here? Sigh.

I had a small bit of fun on yesterday's drive home. The weather was gorgeous, the fall foliage was stunning, the chicken sandwich at the Dixie American Grill (exit 128, I'm beginning to know I-81 way too well), was ambrosial. I was warm and toasty in my cuddly-soft robe over camisole & leggings, and looked positively divine as the slightly-suspicious-bag-lady-in-rest-stop-lavatory-in-bathrobe-and-slippers-at-3-in-the-afternoon. OK, I looked sketchy to be sure, but I knew I wasn't dangerous or weird, just a person who had surgery 3 days ago and was dressed for traveling comfortably! It's not like I owed anyone an explanation (or was moved to offer one), but it made me think of the times I have edged away from odd strangers because something was just a little "off" from what was acceptable behavior or dress. Haha. Now it's me!

So, home to our little round house, what a relief--another step in the process. And clean! What a joy to come home to a clean house (Thank you Shirley!), with new carpet upstairs and fresh sheets on the bed, flowers on the table and cold water in the fridge. Bill got the hot water heater fired up, and the thermostat turned on, closed the windows (we left them open when we departed last week, for venting the new-carpet fumes) and opened the shades. I was wiped out, I became one with the sofa for about 2 hours.

I think I have just about figured out this pain-killer thing. Being a total Rx Nazi, I am now eating proverbial crow. There are times (like these), when only oxycodone will do-- a half-tablet does nothing, one is fine if I lie perfectly still (and that means no breathing, either!), one-and-a-half means I can function cheerfully for about 4-5 hours, and two means I'm not going to be conscious at all (some of you have suffered through these phone calls--I take two Percocet and decide I want to talk to someone--my apologies). And don't even dream about operating machinery, such as dispensing toilet paper from the roll or brushing my teeth!

Dr. Mark saved my bacon by suggesting that I have an appointment with my local doctor (whom I've never been sick enough to meet yet) already set up when I got home--I'm going to need some transitional drugs within a day or two. So I'm all set to waltz in tomorrow morning with a "Hi, how are you, take a look at my incisions and would you write me a big script for a heavily-controlled-substance, please?" When you need the drugs, you really need them, and I'm not talking recreational use here. Just trying to get through the day, thank you.

My big activity today will be to wash my hair again (this is getting to be a highlight-pleasure-activity-of-the-week), and wash this stretchy camisole thingy I've been wearing non-stop since my hospital release. It's really keen, and makes me wish I had invented it and was receiving royalties. How often do we buy something that we are absolutely, completely thrilled with? It is a spandex/microfiber garment with gathers on the empire bustline, and little pockets on the inside of the bodice for holding my drainage tubes and bulbs so they don't tangle or flop around.
Wow, someone saw a need and invented it, and I am so thankful I could just dance (if I could indeed dance at this stage). And I will cook Bill a nice dinner, because he-of-the-long-suffering-"honey-can-you-help-me-up"-fourteen-times-a-day, has been a peach through this whole hard week, where it's all been about me, and not much about him at all.

How do people do this by themselves? I am so thankful for all the actual help and the physical and emotional support I've received, every minute of every day. I am unworthy of the attention, but oh, so grateful just the same. Thank you, thank you.