recovery

is slow, is what i'm learning.

usually, i'm a pretty fast healer. although i'm subject to terrible migraines and nasty cramps, those are kind of short-term (relatively) problems. i endure, sometimes medicate, i rest in the dark and avoid things that smell funny, i get better, and then its over. that's not so much healing, more like getting over, moving on...that kind of thing.

what i'm experiencing now is recovery, which, i've usually been pretty good at. i leave dr's offices, with receptionists telling me (after wisdom teeth extracted, broken arms xrayed, varied other procedures), "stay in bed, at least four days. take this for the pain. be careful, etc". and then later that night, i'm going out to dinner, assembling bookshelves, sewing, knitting or, on an occaision or two, toasting folks at the hungry tiger.

this time, however, not so much. hence my underground status as of late.

last friday i had to have a cervical biopsy. they cut three pieces away; at 2, 5 and 9 o'clock, even though they said that they would only take one. they assured me, immediately, that i didn't have cancer, which was good, as i am known to worry. the appointment was on a friday, as they told me ahead of time i might need someone to drive me home, and the weekend to recover. i arranged to have saturday off, and thought that was that.

the boy took me and waited (and, ohmygod, while i was getting sliced, he was out getting me a $50 anthropologie gift card as a reward for being a brave girl, so good is he) and took me home, but alas, he had to go to work immediately after getting me settled in bed, surrounded by three dogs and with pain meds close at hand. so my mom said she would come over that night to check on me and have dinner.

well, i slept for four hours, but by dinner, i felt fine. so when she came over, we hung out, threw the balls for the dogs who were jumpy after spending the whole day in bed, and then i made her dinner. we had drinks to celebrate her new job (yes, i drank while taking pain meds. i have already been lectured about this, and to you, i say, bah! everything in moderation...), and had a good time. she left around nine.

then on saturday, the boy and i went out for breakfast and then to target to fill a perscription, which turned into a very long target outing, as the boy is a boy and doesn't have the necessary choreography down for a saturday afternoon trip to target. we were home around 4, and i napped for an hour and then we went out for dinner (little low on groceries around here), with plans to go to a movie. i made it through dinner, but could not hack the movie. came home and wanted to die, was i uncomfortable. i went to bed before ten, tossed and turned til almost ten the next morning.

since i was so bored with bed at that point (12 hours will do that to you), i got up and started to clean: swept, mopped, cleaned out the bathtub and shower, did 4 loads of laundry.

it hit me then, right around 3 pm. i hurt. i felt swollen and sore and uncomfortable. and really, quite stupid. another night, tossing and turning, and i woke up and called work (who, bless them bless them, are so understanding), and called the dr. they asked me if i had been resting. i hedged. they asked for specifics, which i reluctantly gave, and then i got the "when we tell you to stay in bed and take advil, hello, we mean stay in bed and take advil, for at least two days, jeez..."

so monday i was good. bed all day, except for a break for perry mason reruns.

woke up tuesday feeling great. jumped in the shower, got dressed, went to work. there was lots to do, restocking, organizing, what with my being gone for two days, so i was unloading boxes, climbing ladders, reaching high, reaching low. felt good, all that movement...for about four hours. then it felt really really bad. and then they sent me home, with instructions to, wait for it, stay in bed.

which i did that afternoon. and then there was a bad episode with very garlicy tomato soup from trader joe's that very much upset my stomach, which had grown very accustomed to the peanut butter and jelly, yogurt and advil cocktail it had been treated to for the past four days. and all that stomach pain and clenching did bad things to the swelling in my abdomen from the biopsy, etc etc etc.

the boy was again the hero yesterday morning, rushing out for a heating pad and stomach medicine, rubbing my back and taking care of me.

which leads me to today. no work again, trying to stay comfy, relaxed...perry mason is on in ten minutes and i'm working on a toddler sized purple sweater. i have tomorrow off and, if i feel better, will meet my mom to go to the new anthropologie near her house and use that gift card that has been burning a hole in my purse...

there was a point i had here, and it really wasn't, i swear, going over the small details in my week. i think it might have been about getting older, and less able to shrug things off. i'm not sure. i don't know. it doesn't matter. my tea is ready, i'm gonna get up and make a pb and j, and watch perry mason (i recently heard a rumour that raymond burr (aka p.m.) lived on his own ISLAND, and had frequent parties populated exclusively with young men. could it be true?).

should any of you read this, i am home today and bored. help a sister out and give me a call (um, NICOLE.)...

xo

Comments

about to go babysit..will try to call you tonight.

they are tearing down the hungry tiger.
Crystal said…
the stories about Raymond Burr ARE true!

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