Rumors of my death...

have been slightly exaggerated. Yes, I'm FINALLY checking in post-op. Recovery is going much better than the pre-op horror stories have led me to believe, but slower than I'd like. I'm not used to staying at home, and bedrest is highly overrated.
Today the cabin fever overwhelmed me, and I begged Kev to take me to Super Wal Mart, just to get the heck out of the house. We needed boots for Elizabeth, a few grocery items, and birthday ideas for Catherine. And where better than Super Wal Mart to get everything under the sun in one obscenely huge building? Except. They didn't have the kind of boots we were looking for, so we wound up at Payless anyway.

I think I overdid it a bit, and set my recovery back a few days. I hurt so badly by this evening I broke out the Percocet, which I haven't had to do in three days. Phooey.

I still view it as progress. I NEED to get out and about again. I miss my twice a week workouts, and am getting what feels like restless leg syndrome. My muscles are going berserk from the sudden, and extreme, lack of activity, and I'm barely sleeping because of it. I plan to go back to work Thursdayish (That's the two week mark, when I'm cleared to drive), and hope to start easing back into working out next week. Just walking the track, though. I'll save the elliptical machine for the six week post-op doctor's okay. I've been doing some very light housework, and that seems to be okay. So I'm encouraged.

So, there ya go. That's me post-op. I know it's all terribly exciting, but try to contain yourself.

Other stuff? Not much. [shrug] When I can't go anywhere or do anything, there's just not much to report.

Rumors of my death...