Day 6 after breast reduction surgery: not much TMI, but with cupcakes and passion
Posted on June 24th, 2013
This was the first day M went back to work, post-surgery, and also marked the first day that Pea and I went back to a routine (kind of, since I’m still not driving, so we stayed home again). Pea has essentially been watching TV non-stop since last Wednesday afternoon, so I was expecting this would be a difficult transition.
Surprisingly, after her Phineas and Ferb, Johnny Test, and Martha Speaks marathons, there was no argument from Pea about getting dressed or doing reading and math and flashcards and books…albeit from my bed. I officially accepted the first grade placement for her today, so I thought I should tell her. After being upset it didn’t mean she was going to be starting first grade RIGHT NOW or possibly tomorrow, she exclaimed, “I have to get ready! I need to be prepared!” and I thought, all right, this is my kid, after all. Just wait until I can introduce her to the world of color-coded highlighting schemes and write-on sticky notes.
Around one, she asked to watch the tablet and I, now completely run out of energy, said, “Go for it.”
Basically, it still hurts, although it is the “Oh, I’m two hours overdue for pain medication so no wonder it hurts” type of pain as opposed to the “OMG IT’S FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE I’M SUPPOSED TO TAKE ANOTHER PILL. DAMN MY LIVER, GIVE IT TO ME NOW” type. So, progress. It still looks like my breasts were in a prize fight, but I don’t think they won anything.
For the rest of the afternoon, I was trying to read and research, but I kept falling asleep. I sent some bizarre texts to M, requesting rotisserie chicken, my anti-nausea medication, Pepsi MAX, and cupcakes. When he came home (and woke me up), he’d brought all four.
Speaking of texts, on Wednesday, M had been doing some work from the hospital and when his assistant asked how I was doing, he’d texted that they were going to release me when they had my pain under control. Except autocorrect had changed “pain” to “passion.” Based on the number of times my passion was inquired after, I’m guessing it made the rounds.
Mental note: skip the work barbecue this summer.