Monday morning, I checked into the hospital. The usual prep, anesthesia, and then you wake up having had surgery and you lost track of your life for the time you were under. I remember being in recovery and it being 5:30 in the evening and being so surprised that so much time had gone by since surgery began. And now, day 3, Wednesday, and I can't believe that it's behind me now. The healing has started.
While in the hospital, you're in this kind of "funk". The morphine keeps you sedated and somewhat painfree. Family and friends come in and out with flowers and support and it all becomes kind of a blur. Was it Tuesday that they came? or Monday evening? The nurses come in and out too, checking your vitals, giving you meds, checking your bandages.
And then this afternoon, they said I could go home. It's day three. I'm hardly well. I'm still bandaged up, I've got drains hanging out of me, and a "pain pack" that I have to carry around in a little black purse. The incision areas are numb, but going home sounds so great. The ride home was painful. Every bump in the road was felt. Walking up the steps and into the house, greeted by the kitties who knew something was up.
After dinner tonight, I went out into the garden to look around. The tomatoes and peppers looked the same, even the zucchini...same. But the peas! I had planted chinese peas last week, and wbile I was away, they decided to sprout and poke through the ground. Life goes on.
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