So my surgery is in 3 weeks. I go to the hospital very early and get a nice cocktail of drugs. After I am out they stick a breathing tube down my throat. I then get a lovely incision and after about an hour go into recovery. I will be at the hospital overnight and will have access to a button connected to an unlimited supply of morphine. I like the morphine thing but am uneasy about being away from V for so long. I can only imagine the snub I will receive Saturday morning, and I won’t even be able to pick him up to say ‘Sorry!’ After I get out I have 8 weeks of rest, which means no lifting baby for 2 months. I will be living in hell.
Teacher of the Year has already started talking about how I will die of infection and the need to put V in a day-care facility. I won’t be surprised if she starts looking a burial plots in both MA and CT. Not fun.
I am scared and very uneasy but the surgery will, hopefully, mean relief. I am in desperate need of relief and a 15lbs (then another 50lbs) weight loss. Also the 2 months of pampering for me and daycare for V will be a like a vacation for me, just without the drinking, and deep sea diving (not that I did that before but a girl can dream).
By the end of the 2 months I think my parents will never want to see my little family again. Already they have stopped visiting in order to prepare for the horror of togetherness that is to come. Their townhouse will not be big enough for us. There are only 2 bedrooms for 5 people and V will be demanding a private room. Teacher of the year is thinking of setting up a bed for me in the living room, you know in case I don’t die.
Oh I forgot to tell you! I can’t bather for 5 days after the surgery. Anyone want to visit me on day 4, I am making appointments as we speak. Act now.
Anyway,
Love,
ME