Back Home Again

I suppose I should have posted before now to let you all know that I was finally able to stop puking and go home.  It’s pretty bad when my dad’s calling and saying, “Hey, how are you doing?  I haven’t seen any new posts.” 

 During the 14 hours post-op that I spent throwing up, I managed to puke everything from my anti-nausea meds (they don’t work so well if you can’t keep ‘em down) to the small amount of water and 7-Up I ingested, to the whopping two saltine crackers I’d eaten, before erupting into my grand finale which involved the aforementioned beverages, and approximately 1 teaspoon worth of cinnamon crunch bagel. Oh yeah, and because I’m such an overachiever I did this while simultaneously shuffling back from the bathroom and pointing mutely to the puke pan. 

 It was great. 

 Nothing says, “See how cool I am” like tossing your cookies (or bagel as the case may be) between your fingers and all over the floor because your Hubster and nurse aren’t quite speedy enough at charades.  They’re over there guessing, “Uh…George Washington crossing the Delaware?….No, no, I’ve got it, you’re Michael Jackson in the Thriller video!” And I’m all: Must. reach. puke. pan. *bleechhrrghh*  

 I eventually managed to stop throwing up, but not until the night shift nurse offered me the option of taking my anti-nausea meds intravenously.  What a concept!  After that, and a change in my pain meds, I was actually able to stop throwing up and go to sleep.  When I woke up the next morning, I was no longer nauseous, and very much ready to go home.

 And, so here I’ve been, because I’m not allowed to drive yet.  You’d think I’d have been writing since it’s one of the few things that fall within my current restrictions, but being an invalid makes me pretty doggone crotchety, and I just haven’t been in the mood. 

 Now, there are parts about this can’t-do-anything-for-myself gig that I don’t mind so much, like not doing laundry or dishes.  On the other hand, there are many more things that are just a pain in the bum. One of the most annoying things to me is that I can’t hold the phone to my ear with my left hand.  At least not without causing my pectoral muscles to completely spazz out.  I know, you’re wondering what the big deal is.  You’re thinking, “So hold it with your right hand.”  Well, this is one of those quirky little Rainman sort of things that I can’t explain—I cannot stand to hold a phone to my right ear.  Don’t ask me why—I told you, I don’t know.  It’s like the telecommunications equivalent of wrong side up saltines, I guess. 

But, I’m able to do a little more each day, despite the fact that I’ve shunned all of the narcotics Dr Grasee prescribed in favor of extra strength tylenol.  You may think I’m crazy, but all those pain meds make me nauseous, and there ain’t no way I’m goin’ back to that summer camp, Skippy.