post-op time

The last thing I remember is being wheeled into the OR, looking up at the ceiling, just like in the movies.

Then, I was waking up, with my foot wrapped up. Elapsed time, over three hours.

Karen walked in and helped with the discharge steps - instructions, paperwork, getting dressed, and into the car. She had spoken briefly with the surgeon, asking him if, in his opinion, this was really necessary. "Sure," he said, "his foot was really deformed".

Finally, we got home, into the house, and, thankfully, I dropped onto the bed.

I managed to arrange pillows so that I was reasonably comfortable (the drugs from the surgery were still in effect), and settled in for at least 24 hours of uninterrupted inaction. Within the first 10 minutes, the following happened:

1) I turned on the little TV, which had been all set up, only to discover that someone had removed the plug-in antenna. No reception. Dylan had to be called, to ask where he had relocated the antenna. The question 'why' was not asked.

2) Karen went back outside to finish unloading her car, and (ready?) actually locked herself out of the house. I had to hobble over to the door, to let her in.

It's kinda funny, when you think about it.

It's 8 pm now, and I am on my first oxycodone. It's beginning to hurt.

The cats have come by to visit me - in fact, Sasha is here in bed with me. I ate a couple of dried apricots - first food in 24 hours.

I am feeling pain. Just 8 weeks to go.

I'd like to take a photo of my bandaged foot, but Ben has apparently taken my camera, which, the other day, I had placed within easy reach of the bed.

I see a pattern developing.