Operation Magnette Pt. 3: Still Recovering

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After I literally let my hair down after the de-gooping shower, I made my Unveiling post. Then, because I really haven’t eaten a lot the last few days, I looked for Hubby.

Hubby was watching TV upstairs. I sit on the bed and didn’t even have to use my feminine wiles (batting my eyes or anything) to convince him to get me what I craved. “Honey,” I say hintingly, “I am hungry for something I haven’t had in a while…”

He looks at me and says without missing a beat, “Taco Bell.”

I pout slightly and nod. Gosh, am I that much of a well-read book?

He folds his lips in a thinking mode and calls out for Angel.

Angel pops her head into our doorway and stands by the bed, “Yeah?”

“Do you want a Happy Meal?”

Her eyes light up and she gets excited. (This is a treat in our house. We don’t get a lot of take-outs since I stopped driving.)

I opted not to ride along. I was still feeling weak. I wasn’t dizzy, but I was a bit off-balance. (Please, no smart "you are off-balance, anyway" commetns. LOL) I walk around like I have a stiff neck. I don’t want to pull my stitches. It feels tight and numb around the implanted side.

When they return, Hubby had picked himself a chicken dinner. This surprised me. He doesn’t usually like to stop at three different places for take-outs. He always wanted us to make up our minds which place we wanted to order take-out and would not drive all over town getting us different take-out foods.

I love the Meximelts. I couldn't decide on what I wanted so I wanted the Mexican pizza, too. I couldn’t eat all my food so I saved some for later. I pretty much carbed out. Will have to get back on the diet wagon ASAP.

I was still taking it easy, but got tired. I told Hubby I was going to take a nap. Upstairs. In my own bed.

As I lay down, gingerly, slowly, I can feel the pull of the stitches as my head hit the pillow. I instantly fell asleep. There’s no place like sleeping in your own bed!! Ahhh.

Hubby wakes me up about an hour or so later. “We got company.”

I frown, mentally checking off a list of people who might want to stop by. Hmmm.

Hubby adds, “Dad’s here.”

I look at my clock. It’s about 4 p.m. Today was Hubby’s niece’s graduation party. I knew I wasn’t up for going anywhere. I walk around like a robot, or should I say, like a Cyborg?

Since the light was coming through the dining room, I chose to sit at the table. We sit around and talk. Grampa decided to surprise everyone. He rode his motorcycle all the way here. That’s a long trip!!

Since we were sans-Flare for the weekend, we offer him to stay with us in her room. I ask Hubby to help me change the sheets. All I did is put the pillow cases on. He did the rest. Thank you, Hubby.

We chat for a while. Then Grampa leaves to go to Niece’s graduation party.

I try to go back to bed, but I am wide awake. I walk stiffly around the house and do some dishes. In my bare feet, I can feel the dirt on the floor. Ugh. I could sweep, but I can’t bend to dustpan the dirt. So I leave it until Flare gets home. Maybe I'll just sweep the dirt near the carpet and have the vacuum cleaner pick it up. I decide to catch up on emails instead. I am so behind. I don't really have a lot of energy, even with the carb-pumping Mexican feast I had.

Grampa comes back about 7 p.m. We sit outside. My interpreter friend who lives near by was doing her neighborhood walk. She sees me and walks up the driveway. We chat, talking about the CI surgery. She asks, “How many stitches?”

I don’t know.

She looks at my incision and starts counting. Fourteen. It is along the back of the ear and up the side. Only 14? That’s it?

I think this is the first time Grampa actually saw me talking in sign language.

Not too much happened after that. We watch some TV.

Sunday, Four days after surgery:

I wake up early. Took another shower. I don’t feel like going to church. And I think that today is the last day. After this, the church gets moved to its new location. Sigh.

I check on emails and some blogs. I try to catch up. I skip a lot of my “funnies” emails to wait another time.

Grampa is going to stay with us another day. So I go downstairs to grab something out of the freezer. The freezer door is ajar. Again. Grrr. We have an upright freezer, much like a refrigerator. When it’s ajar, that means someone didn’t shut it right and things will be thawed out. Crap. I haven’t been down there since Tuesday when I did the wash.

I tell Hubby. He’s NOT happy. I actually miss the old freezer. It was bigger and took more room in the basement, but it remained SHUT. This freezer can stay frost-free, but if the door is open, it starts to ice up. And gets worse.

I prepare beef stew in the slowcooker. I still took some naps. I am still weak. I have this thing when I eat something warm. The ole "nose factory" gets overproductive and runny. I grab a Kleenex and automatically blow. I stop, frozen in mid-blow. Crap. I am not supposed to blow my nose. Did I jar something loose? I don’t move for a minute. I think I am okay.

Since the surgery, I have been belching unladylike belches. I try to keep my mouth open and just cover my mouth with my hand. I always feel my eardrum vibrate on the implanted side. I don’t know why I am belching so much. Is it the meds? Is it that my body is still recovering from the trauma it endured?

Even though my sore throat is gone, I feel hoarse and have phlegm build-up in the back of my throat. Is it part of the healing process? Is it the antibiotics at work?

I hope so. Well, this is it for now. Flare returned about 4 p.m. and we pretty much watched TV all night after supper. The guys went outside for a bit, too.

Oh, did I say how goooood it felt to sleep in my own bed? Ahhh.

I am so glad that the worst of the surgery is behind me, too.