Why, hello! I'm here in day three of The Confinement. Day one, the first day after the surgery, was fantastic. I read two books, I emailed, I twittered, I talked pleasantly with people. This recovery is going to be a breeze, thought I! Then day two came and, holy frak. Day two was awful. Total nausea and the closest thing to a migraine I've ever experienced. (Maybe it was a migraine? How do you know?)
A story for you:
I was sent home from the hospital with a catheter. (I can't quite believe I just told you that.) This was my #2 fear, my #1 fear being that thing from Dateline where the patient is totally awake and aware during surgery but can't tell anyone because of the paralyzing drug they give you as part of general anesthesia. So if I had to choose, I'm grateful it was my #2 fear that came to pass and not my #1. Although a catheter is pretty much as awful as you would expect it to be.
I was supposed to go in to a local clinic yesterday to have it removed. And even though that ended up being in the middle of nasty day two, neither hell nor high water was going to keep me from making that appointment. My mom dropped me off at a side entrance to the clinic and, looking back now, I'm pretty sure I was supposed to wait for her to park and come back to help me. But all I could think at the time was Must. See. Doctor. so I took off on my own down the hallways.
I must have looked like death warmed over, lurching along, bracing myself against the wall with one hand, the other hand holding my pee-pee bag in a kicky little tote. (Always accessorize!) I could see the seats of the OB/GYN waiting area just around the corner. In my drug-addled mind I thought that if I could just make it there everything would be okay. So I hurl myself forward like Frankenstein's monster, collapse into the closest chair with my pee bag in hand, and immediately empty out the contents of my stomach in full view of everyone else in the waiting area. With all ladylike delicacy, of course.
In the middle of my heaving, I hear one of the woman lean toward her companion and ask nervously, "Is that what morning sickness looks like?"
That's all I've got right now, folks. Your entertainment recommendations have been excellent. I think you've convinced me to finally read a Jodi Picoult book. Let's talk about that next time, yes?