Yes I know, I have the audacity to show up on this space as if I’ve been posting regularly like a successful blogger would. Before you guys start pulling out the pitchfork, please hear me out. It has been just plain crazy on my end. February especially was the second most stressful month of my entire life. I was getting ready for surgery to get multiple fibroid removed while trying to keep up with work. During this tornado, me being myself, I tried to act as cool and calm as a cucumber. Of course, I succeeded…which could explain in part why I collapsed big time after the surgery.
Staying in the hospital was quite challenging considering people would come at any time of night and day to poke and ask all sort of questions. I felt as if I had lost all sense of control. Right after the surgery, they gave me a morphine dispenser in the form of a little pump to help with pain management. Since the pump seemed the only thing I could control and considering I didn’t have have quite much in the form of amusement, I naturally became obsessed with it, pressing it literally every second even though I perfectly knew that it would only release the morphine every 7 minutes or so. Hubby was baffled. I even had to have a serious conversation with him about it:
Hubby: “You know that it’ll only give you morphine every 7 minutes or so, right?”
Me (slightly annoyed and on edge): “I know! Don’t you think I know?”
Hubby: “Then why are you pressing on it every second?”
Me (pressing on it with a vengeance): “Because it keeps me sane!”
Looking back I now realize how insane this must have sound. I clearly wasn’t thinking properly and I am thankful to hubby for showing up every day at the hospital even when he had serious doubt about my sanity.
While everybody else out there was worrying about meetings, deadlines and possibly world peace I was sitting in a hospital bed worrying about peeing and pooping…literally…never in my life have I talked about these bodily functions as much…every second a nurse would come in and inquire about whether or not I had accomplished one of the two. It basically felt like my life was resumed by these two basic human fonctions. When I finally was able to have a number two I waited for dear husband with great excitement to announce the news. Here is what followed (in essence):
Husband setting foot in the room…
Me (squealing with excitement): “Guess what?”
Me: “I just had a number two!”
Me: “I am so happy right now!!…and the nurse is going to be happy too…you should go and check it out… It’s still there..”
(Unfortunately I then launched into an extensive description of the number two in question which I will spare you and during which dear husband tried to remained as calm as possible.)
Hubby: “Huh…I think I am good…but I should probably go and get rid of it….”
Me (Almost half screaming): “…No! Go and call the nurse now, she must see it!”
Hubby: “????…Well, I think she’ll believe you if you tell her in person…plus I’ll be your witness…”
Me (sincerely disappointed): “It is not the same thing…you know…”
Dear husband was surely thinking privately: ‘…but I was only gone for half an hour….it must be the morphine’.
Naturally I blame all of this on the morphine. As far as I am concerned pain can make you do a lot of crazy things. I also blame it on the weather and the ugly hospital gown.
I will spare you countless other episodes like these as well as the weeks of pain at home and the back and forth at the doctor’s office which followed the surgery. But all is well now, thank God. I am back at work and I am finally starting to feel like myself again. Talk to you next week and thank you so much for passing by!
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