Tag Archives: surgery

Recovery Day I

Jell-O Credit: iStock Photo

Do you think I can resist the call of the Jell-O?

My refrigerator is filled with things like jell-o, pudding, Gatorade, and bread – all things that are usually not even allowed to be thought of in my house let alone given shelf space. I guess the only thing to do it to eat them, but the nausea from the anesthesia has worn off and I’m not sure I’m worthy. I’m actually feeling rather good.

Good if you consider that I had surgery yesterday. I have pictures too! This is one of those moments when I would love to have a scanner and then I could put the pic they took of my liver and say… Look, it’s beautiful… I’m not drinking too much!

I’m a little worried though; I spent the end of last week working on my short story, placing my novel on the back burner. The night before surgery my characters peaked in and I told them to get out – it was past midnight, I needed to be up by 6 am, and I didn’t have time to get up and play with them. They seemed to understand and I think they peaked in again to see how things were going. But this morning… not a peep. Damn!

Maybe they are simply being polite – but I miss them.

Back to surgery.

Yesterday I had a tubal ligation. I felt like I was in a science fiction movie. The room was filled with electronics, four massive TV screens were placed over my head and they used robotics to find my tubes, cauterize them, and then cut them. They also took a look at my liver, spleen, appendix, both ovaries, and my uterus. Best part, I have pictures to prove it.

I had a bet going that they wouldn’t find any endometriosis. I lost. They found two pin sized bits – one on my uterus which they burned off and one on my ovary that they left alone. I’m not sure they should count, but technically I lost.  

Everyone was wonderful – and I so wish I had a better memory for names. The surgery was at Good Sam and my surgeon Dr. Michael Collins. Other than that the names are a blur. Although I do remember one of the nurses commenting, when I said that I didn’t have my glasses and couldn’t see much of the operating room but blobs, that she was a size 3 with double D breasts. I said that would make her awkwardly top heavy. She laughed at me, and then I was moved to the surgery table and then I woke up.

Except for the two Band-Aids on my tummy, the nausea, and the fact I could barely talk – it could have been a dream.

I still sound funny but I sound more like myself. Yesterday it hurt to speak but today it is just uncomfortable. There are random pains in my abdomen but they are far less than my cramps usually are – let alone when my bursitis flairs up – so I’m just ignoring them. It is more like I’ve over used those muscles than actual cramping.

I need to be brave, have something to eat, and then take a shower so I can remove the Band-aids. I’m planning to say “look, no stitches” while I’m in the shower. At least that is the plan. We’ll see.

There are no links in this at the moment… but my energy is waning. I may add them later.

~ Tess


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Morning rituals

I woke up this morning before the sun.

It was odd to be up at 6 am so I went back to sleep with an ice pack for a couple of hours. Ice packs in the morning are something I’ve become addicted to, first for the migraines now for random stiffness or pain in my shoulders and back. It’s become a ritual.

A ritual just like my morning coffee, my breakfast of 2 scrambled eggs and oatmeal with blueberries and cinnamon, and walking the stairs to my office to begin, again.

Minerva has her own morning rituals. Often, when there is sun, she will salute it, laying the length of a sunbeam. Paws crossed, head held high. There are times, like this morning, when the pond reflects rippling waves of light on the walls. Between the noise of the fountain and the light show I feel underwater. Which is odd since my office is at the top of the apartment and looks above the roof tops and into the tress.

When I was working my morning ritual went something like this: Up at 4 am, breakfast, drive to 24 Hour Fitness, 45 minutes cardio, 20 minutes weights, drive home, shower, protein shake, drive to work, be at my desk by 8 am. Those were the days. If I could keep my eyes open past 9 pm I would be lucky.

Now my morning rituals are broken up. I will have breakfast, but I had a yogurt to start my day because I wanted to run the dishwasher first. My coffee is almost always carried up to my office and the first sips taken while writing my post for the day. I’m working on doing cardio every day – be it a walk, a walk/run, 45 minutes on the elliptical – but it rarely happens at the same time of the day. I keep missing the mornings, and sometimes my evenings are not free. Yesterday I combined it with picking up a book at the library and hitting the grocery store for veggies.  

I still answer emails in the morning… and pick up any of the small tasks that need to be completed so they are off my mind, and off my list. But I’m finding my life isn’t holding to a single pattern anymore. It’s been a year and a half since I was laid off. And the only constant companion I’ve had is the migraines – and they come and go at will too.

Today, among my goals, is to finish the short story I’m working on and get it to my friendly editor. Finish the book I’m reading. Write 3,000 words. Cardio and maybe some yoga since my back is acting up. Grocery shop for the week. Finish picking up the house, Donna’s coming on Monday. And make sure I have everything ready for my surgery.

Yep, surgery… and elective at that.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve worked so hard this week to be in good shape. I figure the better shape I’m in the quicker my recovery. At least that is what I’m telling myself. I’m sure on some level it is true. Not sure 4 days of being good will make that much of a difference.

I’m fighting a bit of a migraine right now – which is my fault. I’ve taken some imitrex and hope to be in better fighting trim by noon. Until then I’ll keep working on my tasks and thinking about morning rituals and wondering… am I shorting myself by not having a consistent ritual? Or am I simply messy by nature?

~ Tess

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