my doctor told me it would take three to six weeks to recover from this hysterectomy, I truly thought I would take the full six weeks. I’m not in the best shape (gasp!), I went into surgery after feeling like crap for ten days, and I don’t endure pain very well.
But, after the surgery, I started feeling really good, really fast. Even when I got my staples removed, the doctor and nurses commented on how well I was doing. As I climbed the stairs without a lot of pain last week, Tom praised me and said, “Hey only 5 more weeks to go!” I laughed and told him I doubted it would take that long.
Then, yesterday happened, which bled into today. I was feeling really good yesterday and tried sitting different places throughout the house and avoided the recliner. I straightened up the kitchen a bit, cleaned off my stamping desk, and actually started making some cards. When i would get tired, I’d just get up, and lie on the couch.
However, at 5 o’clock, I was wiped out, so I laid down for a nap. I woke up just before 7, and was completely confused. Was it 7 am or 7 pm? I turned over and saw Tom was not in bed, so I knew it must be 7 pm, because that man does not get up before 9 unless he has to! Then, it hit me. We were supposed to go to my mom’s for dinner at 6:30 in honor of our birthdays!
I start yelling, “Hey! Hey!” as I am kicking my shoes across the room. (I couldn’t put them on because of the incision. I bend in the wrong place.) Karen jumps on the phone to call my folks to tell them that I was napping, and we lost track of time. My mom told her that they had already eaten, but to come on anyway.
The dam broke. I started bawling. We all four discuss whether or not we should go anyway, and Tom, the amazing man he is, said, “Yes, we are going. We could call and say, ‘We aren’t going to come since you’ve already eaten.’ And then they’ll say, ‘Yes, come on.’ Honey, they know you’ve been tired, are on pain medication, and had surgery. They understand.”
So we piled into the car, and it was a silent ride there. Everyone felt badly for forgetting. We came in and my folks were all smiles. We sat right down to eat, and my dad asked me to pass him the roast. I said, “Oh, are you going to eat again?” He looked at me funny and said, “I haven’t eaten.” I looked at my mom and she said, “Honey, that was a joke!” Open the flood gates. I excused myself and went into the other room to cry.
Last night was not an easy night’s sleep. I woke up at 2:30 and had to take two Percocet because I was in such pain.
When I woke up this morning, I felt like Charlie Brown. A dark cloud followed me. And several little crying jags hit while the rest of the family went out shopping. I called my mom and she came over to keep me company.
I obviously over did it yesterday. Which seems a little unfair since you don’t know when to quit doing something because the effect comes later.
This really is a roller coaster ride of recovery. I’m not sure if I’m so emotional because I’m bipolar or because I just over did myself and that’s how everyone feels. This next week will be hard because I am going to have to sit here to heal faster or get up an move around because I feel like it, and pay for it the next day. There must be some happy medium. Right?