hello from my own bed
Post-op day 11.
I got home on Tuesday and I've been sleeping and sleeping and sleeping.
I might have been discharged on Monday if not for Tropical Storm Irene, which I watched between naps from my 12th floor hospital room. The public transit system was shut down and the hospital had about half its usual staff. Whoever was doing physical therapy was too swamped to visit, so I stayed in bed.
I didn't mind the extra day of rest until Monday night, when my temperature spiked up over 101 degrees and resisted all efforts to drop. I knew the hospital wouldn't discharge me with a fever, and they kept waking me to confirm the bad news. But when Tuesday morning rolled around, my fever was gone like a bad dream. I demonstrated my stair-climbing ability to the cheerful PT student and she signed my release.
Memories of last year keep coming back to me. One of them, crystal clear, is of lying on my back and typing on the laptop on the over-bed table just above my head. I couldn't sit up at first last year because the cut in the ischium (the sit bone) hurt too much. I can sit up this time, at least for a couple of hours at a stretch, when my head gets tired and my butt gets sore and I have to lie down again. But like everything so far, sitting up is much easier than last time.
I wish I had been updating all week. I'll start now, but Seatmate has just brought breakfast, so more later.
I got home on Tuesday and I've been sleeping and sleeping and sleeping.
I might have been discharged on Monday if not for Tropical Storm Irene, which I watched between naps from my 12th floor hospital room. The public transit system was shut down and the hospital had about half its usual staff. Whoever was doing physical therapy was too swamped to visit, so I stayed in bed.
I didn't mind the extra day of rest until Monday night, when my temperature spiked up over 101 degrees and resisted all efforts to drop. I knew the hospital wouldn't discharge me with a fever, and they kept waking me to confirm the bad news. But when Tuesday morning rolled around, my fever was gone like a bad dream. I demonstrated my stair-climbing ability to the cheerful PT student and she signed my release.
Memories of last year keep coming back to me. One of them, crystal clear, is of lying on my back and typing on the laptop on the over-bed table just above my head. I couldn't sit up at first last year because the cut in the ischium (the sit bone) hurt too much. I can sit up this time, at least for a couple of hours at a stretch, when my head gets tired and my butt gets sore and I have to lie down again. But like everything so far, sitting up is much easier than last time.
I wish I had been updating all week. I'll start now, but Seatmate has just brought breakfast, so more later.