Okay, so here is what happened.
On Thursday, the 20th, I had surgery.
Thursday night, I spent the night in the hospital. Friday, my husband came to get me and I got home. I walked in the door and went to the couch. That's where I stayed except for to take small walks until mid afternoon on Saturday. Saturday night, I got in the car with my family and we ran a drive thru errand. Sunday, I slept an hour later than usual, and moved from one chair to the next, spending most of my time on the couch watching a football game. Well, and some time reading to stuffed animals and playing quiet games with my kids. Cards. We play alot of cards.
Last week, I took it really easy. Really easy. By Saturday night, I was done taking narcotics. I'd be the worst drug addict ever because I despise the way medicine makes me feel. I just hate it. I'd rather be in a little bit of pain and feel "with it" than be pain free and a feel like a pile of garbage. Because I was done taking narcotics and stir crazy as hell, I drove to pick Mimi up from school on Monday afternoon. Safer than walking that far, I say. I had made arrangements for someone to help me with that, but she forgot. Ahem. She forgot and by they time she finally answered the phone so that I could confirm she wasn't coming, I was already 20 minutes late. So, yes, I drove.
Tuesday, I had driver plans to get Mimi to gymnastics but she forgot. Again. So another awesome friend came for transport. We were out of the house for an hour. The rest of the day and night I spent on the couch. Or in the chair in the backyard. Or at the computer. Resting. I rested. A lot.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Repeat. I went to school on Friday morning. I was also there for a few minutes on Thursday afternoon. Why? Because it's not safe for my kids to walk home during a tornado warning. So, yes, I was there briefly. Very briefly.
On Friday, I had a follow up call with a triage nurse. All's well. Incisions looking good. One seeped fluid for a day or two after surgery and then didn't approximate very well, but it was dry and looked alright. Pain in good control. Getting back to normal. Good news.
Friday night, I started feeling crappy. UTI crappy. So I hit it with OTC and comfort measures that any well-trained OB nurse knows. I hit cranberry tablets hard and treated with Uristat and fluids. And rest.
Saturday, MOTH took Middle to her meet. I stayed on the couch and watched movies. Several of them. On Saturday, I sent a text message to my doctor and told him I needed meds for a UTI. We're close like that. I was out of the house for about an hour mid-day, but aside from that, was resting. I did extra resting so I was in top shape to go see the Kellogg's Tour of Champions with Middle and Big. and the rest of the 50+ parents and kids that made group reservations. It was awesome and I would not have missed it for the world. I came home happy, feeling tired and peeing orange. No biggie.
Saturday night, in the middle of the night, the scab on my one incision peeled up. And it was nasty underneath. Gross. Nasty with a capital N. So . . . . I changed my mind on the UTI meds and called in a broad spectrum antibiotic. And a Diflucan for good measure. And I started First Aid 101 with my wound. By this morning, it looked like crap. So I went in and had it looked at.
Yes, it's infected. I could have told you that.
But it't not deep, which is what I was concerned about .. . that the whole shaft of the lap entry was infected. It's not even deep enough to pack.
He picked at it for a while and removed a bunch of soft tissue that I had peroxided the hell out of. And a bunch of ooky gooky crud that was the end of neosporin gunge. And I have to go back on Wednesday so that he can sew me back together. So, for now, I have a gaping nasty hole in the side of my abdomen. It's gonna scar. Big Time. It's totally gonna scar. When this is all said and done, it's gonna look like an exit would.
The point of this rant is these words . . . .
Infections happen to anyone and everyone. Anyone and everyone gets a UTI. So my having these things is NOT because I didn't REST enough. Seriously, I have never been more sedentary than in the days since September 20th. I have not done a fraction of my normal activity. Believe me, I am SO resting. My doctor told me today . . . . you're fine, this is nothing, it's okay, this could have happened to anyone. It's not because you walked to the mailbox, came off Vicodin early or drove a car last week. Shit just happens.
That's it. Shit just happens. And with my shit, I get a cool scar that looks like an exit wound.