Mr. Karen gently pointed out that the grammar on display in my previous entry is not up to my usual standards. I’m sure he’s right, though I’m not going to go see how bad it is because I’m not sure I could exactly tell right now. I blame the vicodin. The bottle says “may cause drowsiness” and “may cause dizziness”; it should probably also say “may cause poor sentence structure and ill advised word choices”. Ah, well, I’m already weaning myself off the stuff, so this is a short term problem.

So, it’s been a week and a day now since the surgery. I’m making progress. The past two nights, I’ve pretty much slept a solid seven hours, which feels wonderful. The first few nights I was home, when my body was working hard to deal with the loose blood pooled in my belly and the residual from all the IV fluids I’d gotten, I was having to get up every two to three hours to pee and wondering whether I’d done the right thing by having the surgery. I mean, the fibroid woke me up at most once a night, so this was no improvement. But it’s better now. That’s what I’ve got to keep in mind, that things will get better. Still, I can wish that they’d get better faster, can’t I?

I knew I’d be tired during this initial recovery period, but I didn’t understand how tired. I thought I’d be lounging around on the couch most of the day, maybe taking a nap in the afternoon, sort of like being home sick with a cold or flu that’s not all that bad. I wasn’t prepared for having to take a nap right after breakfast before I could muster up the energy to get dressed, as I had to yesterday. I didn’t think a short walk around the block would cause me to debate in my head the relative merits of sitting down on the sidewalk versus laying down in the shade in someone’s front yard if I got too tired to make it home the first time I tried it without Mr. Karen at my side. I’m taking two hour naps in broad daylight with no earplugs in, which is amazing given how hard it usually is for me to sleep with light and noise. I’m not sure how much of this weariness is a normal result of healing from surgery, how much is from the drugs, and how much is from the anemia, but it’s getting a little trying. I haven’t felt up to doing any quilting yet, for one thing. Probably just as well, since grogginess and rotary cutters don’t mix, and I don’t even want to think about the quality of sewing I would do while I’m still taking the hard stuff.

One thing that hasn’t been helping me feel better is the fever I’ve been running in the afternoons. It’s low, not something that warrants a call to the doctor’s office per my discharge instructions, but still uncomfortable. The motrin helps some, but I still find myself hot and sweaty and unable to focus on anything much but trying to chill, literally, for a couple hours each day. Yesterday I tried lying on the floor of the family room, where I thought it would be cooler, with a wet rag on my forehead. I would have gone into the basement, but that would have meant an extra trip down and up the stairs and besides it’s not too comfy down there on the linoleum.

I don’t want to overdo, so I think I’ll stop writing now, save some mental energy for deciding what to have for lunch. That’s been another surprising thing, how little appetite I’ve had. Sure, I’ve had very little activity to work up an appetite, but that never stopped me from eating before. Now, it’s such an effort to pick out the food and put it in a bowl or on a plate and then chew and swallow that a meal takes a ridiculous amount of time. Breakfast is easiest, because I’ve got a routine and have the same thing every day, but lunch and dinner have so many options that I’m tempted to just grab the first thing I see and be done with it, but that’s not the kind of healthy eating that will make me feel better. Mr. Karen has been great about stocking the place with good choices; I just need to do better at choosing among them. At least my worst fears of binging all day haven’t come true, but my weight issues are a whole ‘nother entry best left for another day.

***
More or less a year ago, I was doing a Random Act of Journaling.