I went to bed Sunday night thinking of the blog I would write on Monday. It was quite witty and well written. It was all about exercise, eating & water, and how I'd managed those things while I was recuperating, my transition plan and how I saw them going forward once I was fully recovered. Then I woke up Monday morning.
Oh my! 65MD convinced me to take half of a pain pill before bed. I am glad he did or we might have been in the ER! I woke up at 2:00 am hurting, so I took the other half. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have taken a whole one then.
Clearly, I didn't blog yesterday. If it hadn't been for PT, I wouldn't have left the house. I hardly left my little nest. 65MD has made me a very cozy little place to rest during the day, that we've taken to calling my nest.
By the time to go to therapy, the pain had diminished but was still very much there. This was my evaluation as I see the surgeon tomorrow. My therapist told me several visits ago that I might not need any extra time. Yesterday's visit proved that to be untrue.
She took the measures to send to the doctor but I knew I was not making the marks I needed to. One one measure, she kept asking me to push just a little harder. I knew I must have been close to the mark she was wanting. I just couldn't do it. The pain had come roaring back and I could not push through.
I knew she was going to have to tell me that she was recommending more sessions. I let her off the hook. I told her I was OK with the extra time and even smiled as I told her I'd call and make more appointments after checking the schedules of my PT 'taxi' drivers.
As we got in the car, I told 65 the news. I was a little surprised that not one tear slipped out. I thought my voice would crack or something. It didn't. He sighed and started to say something encouraging, and I burst into sobs. Something about that sigh broke me. The dam burst and I sat in the car sobbing like someone had died. I'm talking deep gut wrenching sobs. Poor 65MD, was trying to comfort me but couldn't quite figure out how to since we were both in the car. He finally just patted my leg over & over.
We had planned to go out to eat since he had a BOGO coupon from a place we really like. We were going to stop by my mother's with some boxes while we were out too. I guess, grasping for something to say, he suggested that we just go home. And, of course, it would make sense that I would not want to be running around town while I was hysterical. But, I said no. I said, I was not going to let this setback defeat me. We were going.
I secretly decided that I was going to order dessert. Probably something creamy, like ice cream or better yet a warm brownie with ice cream on it. Yes, I was going to order dessert. I deserved it.
We went by my mother's. She came out to the car, so we didn't even get out. She knew this was evaluation day and was eager to get the news. 65MD jumped in and told her so I wouldn't have to. She was disappointed for me, but didn't seem to be upset by it.
We went to eat. I got full before I finished my meal and then I did not like any of the dessert options. There was no warm brownie with ice cream. There was no ice cream at all! I confessed my secret to 65MD. He said I could have gotten dessert, but perhaps this was a sign that it was an emotional response and I would enjoy dessert more another time. He was right.
I am better today. Not in so much pain, because I'm back taking my medication. And, I have a nice post about how I'm going to lose these last two post-op pounds and then move on to a more aggressive plan to get to my goal weight, all ready to go in my mind, when it is time. No brownies with ice cream are included.