I had surgery on Wednesday. Minor surgery, but surgery just the same. I came home and slept for 5 hours on Wednesday afternoon, and really was feeling pretty good – just a little groggy.
Michael farmed out the kids on Thursday, so I was home alone to rest. I woke up feeling a little uncomfortable, so I took the prescribed pain medication.
I was so weak and so sick for the rest of the day – I couldn’t even get up off the couch, except to throw up. I didn’t want to eat, and I couldn’t get up to eat even if I wanted to, which made me even weaker. I had searing pain and tightness in my chest and in my back. I don’t remember the last time I was so miserable.
And here’s the one thought that came from this experience: I’m not afraid to die, but now I’m a little more fearful of dying. Sorry – I don’t mean to be morbid – but blame it on the Vicodin. This is what was going through my head. Also, I should mention, that when I woke up in recovery after my surgery, I had an oxygen mask on, but I couldn’t breathe, no one was there, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open and I couldn’t move. It was more than a little scary. I was fine after about 10 minutes – and I knew I would be. I kept telling myself to hold on for just a few more minutes, then I would be able to breathe. And move. And keep my eyes open.
If I could write the script – if I had any say whatsoever – I would die in my sleep at a ripe old age. No pain. No fear. No struggle to breathe.
Just a few little happy thoughts to start 2008!
On a lighter note, I have to brag on Griffin. As much as he makes me crazy, he really is the most tenderhearted of my three. After I woke up from my long slumber on Wednesday afternoon, he came into my room and snuggled up with me, adjusting the blankets, patting my arm, asking me how I was doing. He even brought me “Bluey,” his very treasured blue blanket, and a teddy bear to sleep with. He wanted to help Daddy fix my dinner, and he sat up in bed with me and read books to me. He melts my heart!