Friday, July 3, 2015

Personal Log 3: Post-Op

It's been almost a week since I was discharged from the hospital. I should have posted something sooner, but between the haze of morphine and a painful recovery, I just haven't had it in me. Even sitting up for more than a few minutes at a time hurts enough to put me to tears.

The surgery was a success, and my loving mother and father were there with me every step of the way. They've been divorced for about fifteen years now, but this was still the first time I've had them in the same room with each other in a cordial, family type way since then. It was kinda awkward at first, but I could tell that they were really trying for me and it made me feel so special. My boyfriend and girlfriend, (yes, I have one of each and no I'm not cheating) wanted to be there too, but we're kinda flat broke at the moment so they had to send their love from afar.

What I had done was something called curettage, where they literally scrape out the tumor from the bone. Apparently it was about the size of a golf ball - no wonder it hurt so much! Anyways though, they decided to try and let it heal on its own rather than grafting a piece of cadaver bone into it. Would have been kinda cool, but it's a good thing they didn't need to. Means that they didn't have to do a lot of extra digging after it. While I was under I got a breathing tube and a catheter for my convenience and comfort. Seriously though, both are horribly irritating after they're taken out. I had a sore throat and unmentionables for days afterwards.

Those discomforts paled in comparison to the first night though. I spent most of it moaning and crying. Even on a morphine drip, it was like someone was hammering a screwdriver into my hip. I was so glad someone was there with me because if I'd been alone I'm pretty sure I would have felt like I was dying.

The pain is better now, but I still can't function without my pills and a walker. I can't walk more than about fifteen feet without it, but I've managed to work up to that much. I can function enough to take care of my basic needs, even though my loves insist on making and bringing me food. I feel very spoiled, but they just tell me to hush when I say so. I'm very lucky to have such wonderful, devoted partners. It'll be about three or more months until I'm walking normally again; a month from now I can go from a walker to a cane, and after that I can go no physical support at all. I'm excited to start training for my hikes again, even if I do have to start from the beginning.

That's about all there is to my recovery news thus far, but I'm sure I'll have more updates in the future. For now I'm dead beat, so I'll be going to bed. Fifteen naps in one day and it's still not enough. At this rate I'll wake up in fifty years like Rip van Winkle.

Well, at least they have fluffy pillows