*Clarification* I am healing from surgery (pretty much healed, but I’ll get to that), and dealing with sibling rivalry.
Now that’s all cleared up…did you miss me? I missed all of you, believe it or not. I’ve missed writing for you. No. Writing to you. It’s nice to think that somewhere, someone is reading what I write and enjoying what I have to say.
So. On June 22nd, when Mister came home from work, I was in such agonizing pain that I could barely get up from the bed. I wasn’t in pain…as long as I stayed perfectly still. When I moved, the pain hit with such burning, stabbing force that it made me nearly puke. Mister sent me to the ER.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why did I drive myself? Because Mister had to stay home and watch the kids. There was no one else. I won’t go into the details. They aren’t important. They are, but not to everyone.
I get to the hospital. At this point I’m expecting to be told I have some infection, here’s some antibiotics, and out the door you go. Long story short, after running tests, the doctor says I have gallstones, and that my gallbladder needs to come out. Unfortunately, they don’t do that operation on the weekends (Note from Merry…WTF, Hospital!?!?!?), and that to effectively manage my pain, they needed to admit me to the hospital to await my surgery on Monday.
I didn’t want to do that. I had driven myself, and Sunday the 24th was my birthday. No one decides they want to spend their birthday in the hospital. But I couldn’t picture spending my birthday in agony either. So I was admitted to the hospital and the doctors decided I wasn’t to have anything to eat or drink. I was being doped up on morphine, and it was making me sick. I pleaded with my nurses, I explained that not being allowed any food or drink was giving me a migraine (hey, IV fluids can only do so much), and that the morphine was seriously making me ill. I was switched to Dilaudid and was put on a clear liquid diet.
Monday came, they prepped me for surgery and once again failed to alert me as to when they were going to knock me out. I woke up groggy, in pain, and confused. I just wanted my Mister. Or my mom. I asked for them both.
My mom had taken the kids so Mister could at least be with me, and so I wouldn’t go through my first major surgery alone. And in case you were wondering, my birthday turned out very wonderful. My Mister brought our children to see me before my mom took them to her house, and he gifted me a nearly exact replica of the guitar my dad had given me when I was 4. And on the back are the handprints of my children and my soul mate. And, as he always somehow knows exactly how to do, the Mister put the cherry on top of the awesomeness by giving me a Kindle Fire. A gift that made me really realize that while Mister may not understand my love affair with books, he understands that I love books. I was really touched by both gifts. The guitar and balloons decorated my room and cheered me when my spirits sagged after everyone had left, and the Kindle kept me supplied with literature.
Tomorrow, I’ll write about the sibling rivalry I’m dealing with. I’ll have plenty of time to write between loads of laundry, as it’s supposed to reach 103 degrees, and I will be staying inside.
It’s good to be back,