Why is our couch so fucking low?

Convalescence at Home, Part II of My Saga

I spent the bulk of Surgery Friday enjoying a drug induced haze and hating how much my throat hurt.  Did you know that you get a tube shoved down your throat to help you breath during general anesthesia? Yes, you do.  And that shit hurts like a mother.

The husband humored me when we got home - and kept me on a strict pill popping regimen.  He let me watch the BBC Pride and Prejudice and Community dvds and I dozed and drooled and realized that our couch? Is a piece of shit.  Seriously.  Be glad you don't come over.  It's comfy-ish, but when you lay down on it and try to get up? FORGET IT.  Particularly if you've been cut open, say, in your midsection, and all your muscles are pretty fucking pissed at having been assaulted.

I spent the day on the couch, with the husband hauling me up so I could shuffle to the bathroom and pee. I was really wishing we had a bed pan or I had a catheter and I was pretty tempted to have the husband stock up on the Depends, but I decided I should put off the inevitable for as long as I could.  So it was me trying to swing my legs gently to the floor and grab the edge of the couch and the husband trying to cantilever me upright until I could push up from a squatting position because evidently the couch bottom is pretty much the floor. FUN!

I took a shower the next day, where I finally got a look at my scar and the MULTIPLE STAPLES holding it together. Yes. MULTIPLE. As in NINE. METAL. STAPLES. Just above my belly button.  It was pretty fucking disgusting.  And they stayed in for 10 fucking days.  Gah.  I thought I had better insurance than this.

I also watched a lot of Scrubs [because medical comedies speed the healing process, they did a study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association.] and half-reading a backlog of magazines and drool/sleeping because I couldn't come up with a single dumb romantic comedy that sounded even remotely watchable. 

I even came to appreciate the prunes and prune juice I had to drink because did you know those Tylenol 3s will stop you up? THEY WILL.  Also, FYI, organic prune juice is the way to go. I never thought I'd have a preference, but there you have it.  All of this made me so pretty.  Particularly when I grunted myself off of the couch.

My family came over to help, which was awesome, particularly since they'd cook and clean and put away my dishes.  That I still can't find certain things is a small price to pay.  I felt kind of bad that they were doing all the work, and then I'd take another pill and it was all fine. 

The girl was home for a few days - which was wonderful.  She was super sweet and made me happy, particularly since she was able to cover me when I needed it, and also find the remote and put new DVDs in the player [which was too low to the floor for me to reach without feeling like I was being cut in half] [and grunt-crying].  Also, she made cookies. 

And now, here I am, ready to very, very gently get back into my groove.  I'm thinking I'm going to work out and wear a bikini this summer, so I can show off my kick ass scar.  It's a nice complement to my appendectomy scar. And my c-section scar.

My abdomen kind of looks like a relief map.