I am trying very hard to provide a clear picture of my recovery. I’m not really sure how clear of a picture I can provide from the actual day of surgery. The drugs they gave me were pretty strong. They would have to be since the dr cut inches and pounds away from my body. But there are some parts that I remember.
Waking up after surgery is never fun for my nurses. I am a fighter. I fight anesthesia going under and coming out. I do warn people and apologize profusely while I’m awake but I’m not a great patient when it comes to that. But I am funny if you can understand my accent. I was born and raised in South Carolina but my accent is not very thick considering the years we have spent in the military. It really only comes out when I am very sleepy or had a drink or two. Well coming out of surgery makes me sound like I haven’t slept in two days while I was tailgating for a Jimmy Buffet concert.
In comes D’Ann, my saving grace. I’ve never been more sure that Disney princesses were real. I mean she strolled in with her long blonde, perfect hair. Animals sang. Birds tweeted. The sun shined brighter just on her. And I immediately hated her. Not really but she did make me feel like Shrek the Ogre. D’Ann was from Louisiana though and could easily understand the never ending litany of Deep South drawl I was saying. And I don’t remember taking a breath while talking to her. I also don’t remember falling back asleep, getting into the SUV to come home, the bumpy ride home, or even how I walked up a flight of stairs once I got there. I just remember waking hours later in my bed.
My bed is amazing. I absolutely love it. It provides the perfect amount of support and comfort. I always feel like I’m getting a king sized hug when I’m in my bed. It accepts me as one of its own. SO I knew prior to surgery that I wanted to recover in my bed. All of my other surgeries had been core related (stomach/abs) so I thought it would be no problem recovering in my bed. I propped up pillows behind my head as well as made a fort structure for my legs. My medicine was in the top drawer of my nightstand. My drink was there. I was organized and ready for recovery. Yeah, right.
My ignorance was put on display in the middle of the night. I woke up in pain, no surprise really. What was surprising is that my legs had fallen off of the supportive fort I made and now formed a diamond around it. Ok cool, I’ll just lift my legs. Nope. They didn’t work. They had very limited movement and what they did move scrubbed against every nerve ending my leg ever thought about having. It was not happening. And of course, I have to go to the bathroom. So I am now frantically, drugged up searching for my phone to call my husband to come help me. I knew he was in the house so he’s was there to help but I didn’t know if the kids were asleep or not. And I wasn’t about to yell and wake up two tiny tornadoes when I can’t even lift my legs. I find my phone and sent my husband a text that I thought was pretty straight forward “I have to go potty”. The message he got however was more like “geuiegrusbeirbeidbiioottttyyyyyyy”. Yay drugs.
Another huge error in judgement I made was pointed out when he got there. I did not take into account how tall my bed is. Normally I can just hop down without even thinking about it. But definitely not an option after leg surgery. So my husband helps me move my legs into a position good for “dismount “ from the bed. He goes and searches for a step stool, he comes back with a ladder because he was in a hurry (I still had to go to the bathroom).
I make it to the bathroom to realize I have on some type of torture device that I’m not supposed to take off. But don’t worry. They cut a hole in it for me. Read all about this life changing garment here. https://halehouseadventures.com/2019/03/24/the-two-things-they-dont-warn-you-about-thighplasty/
After taking care of business. I begin to waddle back to bed. It dawns on me that this is a horrible idea. I change directions and head toward my sons room. I have zero intentions of waking him up but plan to start camping out in the lazy boy recliner in his room. I made it safely and comfortably. I have been in that recliner for the majority of day 0 and 1. I was up and walking some independently. And I was able to dress in some of the latest post surgical style.
The picture says it all!! You have such a way with words. I can’t wait to read more!!
I thought I looked pretty good in that picture. Days later and I realize I could have been an extra on the Walking Dead.