Cranky pants

I've been waiting to post until I wasn't unconscious from pain meds or completely depressed and/or depressing. In the last week, I've pretty much been one or the other at all times. I've decided a few things.

1. Nine weeks in bed is 8-1/2 too many.
2. I don't like being in pain.
3. I don't like the way pain medication makes me feel unless it renders me unconscious.
4. Loverboy is a nearly perfect husband in every way, but not a good hospital companion (more on that later).
5. I really don't like being in pain...did I already mention that?

That's more than a few things right? Because a few is three, correct? I've had this debate several times and I'm still quite certain a few is three. But I'm heavily medicated and can't be held responsible for anything I do or write right now. And I hope I don't misspell anything in my incoherence because I hate typos. But that's neither here nor there. Do you know how many published books I have found typos in? Almost every one I've ever read. They should hire me to be a proofreader. Not when I'm medicated though. Sorry, got side tracked.

I'm in love with my anesthesiologist because whatever he gave me during surgery helped me to avoid my usual 7-10 hours of vomiting after surgery. I don't even remember if he was a he. He could have been a she. Irrelevant! I don't remember who you are, but I still love you and if I ever figure out who you are, I will bake you some cookies....my best ones!

I'm sort of in love with my surgeon because he's awesome and I think he fixed my back (the jury is still out). But I'm a little sore with him because he made a much bigger scar....one that will clearly not be covered up by my swimsuit unless I get a nun swim suit (do nuns swim?) or start swimming in a mu mu. Really, how much more hideous can doctors make my body look? Four C-sections and now this?!? (I know I'm not going to get one ounce of sympathy from you in the scar department Chrissy!! You definitely win the scar contest). Some women, who shall remain nameless (unless you bribe me with some really good dark chocolate) go in for surgery and come out looking MUCH better if you know what I mean, wink wink. But oh no, not me. I just add to my collection of really hideous scars each time.

Because I'm a lame-o invalid right now, I could do nothing for Loverboy's birthday on Thursday. I cried about it all morning and then asked him if we could postpone it a couple of weeks. Because he's a total stud, he of course said yes. And because the party I planned for his 40th last year was SOOOO good, he really should still be on a high from it. Thank goodness his sweet mother and my friend Mi* saved the day. His mom brought us a delicious lunch and his favorite chips and salsa! She also stayed and talked to me and helped pass a couple of hours which is an invaluable service to me these days. Mi* went and picked up a birthday pie...his favorite, Key Lime AND my favorite, chocolate satin. Happy day!

Oh, back to my nearly perfect husband not being the best hospital companion. If he would have had Internet access, it might have been different but alas, it was not. Let's just say I wasn't much entertainment in my heavily sedated condition so he tried to entertain himself. Thankfully I can't remember it all but I remember the theft of a wheelchair and then multiple wheelies and tricks I'm sure aren't allowed. Then there's the classic blowing up the exam glove on his head. I NEVER laugh but he always thinks it's funny. Let's see, what else? Oh, using my medically prescribed "grabber" for grabbing body parts. Seriously! Lest you're wondering what a grabber is, it's what I use to put my undies on because I can't bend 1/2 an inch. It's also handy for picking things up to fling at people when they're annoying you. Oh and how could I forget his hysterical whisper into my ear as they wheeled me away, "remind them it's back surgery, not a breast reduction. You know how doctors mess things up sometimes." Hardee har har. Finally, I begged him to leave and my friends came to keep me company (for all the slurred, stimulating conversation I was). But the company was nice and it probably kept me from hurling my cane and possible fatally injuring one of my VERY annoying roommates on the other side of the curtain. Thanks Gi* and Mi*!

All in all, it's good to be home. I don't miss the hospital food or really ANYTHING about the hospital except for the IV meds. I'm done with this. My faith, patience, optimism....all of it, GONE. I'm trying to get it back, really I am. But I'm just so tired of hurting. I am so tired of hurting! I will adjust my attitude and post tomorrow when I'm not so darn cranky. I'm sorry. Goodnight.