Post Surgery

my bedside 

Well, phew. This go around of surgery has seemed extra rough {though, truth be told, I probably say that after every surgery}.

This time I wasn't prepared at all for what was coming my way. I thought it would be like my surgery in June - down for about 36 hours and then feeling better.

Instead, I came out of surgery in a lot of pain, sick to my stomach, and with an arm that I couldn't tolerate moving.

Had I taken two seconds to think about it before hand, I would have known this was coming. In June, the doctor worked on my skin - removing the damaged parts and scar tissue. I was sore for a few days, yes, but overall, it wasn't that bad. This time however, I had the tissue expander put in. When they put the tissue expander in, not only does it go behind your skin, but it goes behind the muscle too. Which basically means they slice the muscle and put the expander behind it. And oh, it's filled a bit, so there is a slight amount of stretching.

So, um, duh. Of course it was going to hurt. Of course my arm was going to be stiff after surgery - just try to move your arm without using your chest muscle {or sitting up, or laying yourself down, or a number of other things!)

This was all amplified by my very upset stomach. No, really, just try throwing up whiling not pulling the chest muscles that were just operated on. Yay, it's precisely as fun as it sounds like it would be. The hardest part was we couldn't get that part under control. I was stuck in a vicious circle: sick to my stomach so I couldn't eat, then needing to take pain pills that, when taken on an empty stomach, make me sick. Lather, rinse, repeat.

So Wednesday, we added anti-nausea pills to the mix, and dialed back the pain killers to try to help. And it half-did - I stopped feeling sick, but then, the pain wasn't being controlled. But today, I think we've found the right balance. I'm not feeling great, but also not feeling horrible. So I'll take it. Slowly I'm feeling better and my arm is starting to work again, so that's all good!

All of this to say - I'm a horrible patient. Just horrible. I feel badly for those who have to take care of me - I whine, I cry, I complain. My family though, they rock and are beyond patient with me. Even the kids have been super nice. And those dinners I mentioned we were getting - have been a godsend. I am SO happy I reached out and asked for the help because we really did need it.

On a totally unrelated note, my 10 year old, has also started a blog, so if you (or your kids) have a moment, hop on over and check it out. Her blog is Chores Stink!