The below was supposed to be my post on Friday but I procrastinated and then Mother Nature threw a wackadoodle of a storm and lightning blew out a transformer and we lost power for 20hours and it was a million degrees inside the house and I had a migraine and my phone died so that didn't happen... I know this is so 'but the dog ate my homework' but for once the damn dog had nothing to do with this delay... anyway, last week's burt below
I had surgery six weeks ago on stupid Broken Ankle.
The best part about the surgery was the nerve block they put into my leg which made it numb for almost 24 hours. I could pretend that I was just being pampered by Nurse Shrek for no reason. Well, if I ignored the 30 minute round trips to the bathroom to pee with Nurse Shrek as witness holding my drugged self up, I could.
The worst thing I that remember wasn't the needles or the cutting or the new very expensive jewelry they attached with power tools to my ankle bones. Nope. The worst part was when I woke up from the surgery and told the nurse I needed to pee and she said that she'd help me with that and started unplugging me from the various wires attached to my chest but then got distracted by a fellow nurse who took her into a corner of the cold room and started whiper-fighting with her.
Which would have been fine if she came back. But she didn't.
The two of them whisper-fought for about 45 min while I lay there, numb everywhere but my bladder, slowly getting more and more uncomfortable. I asked another nurse if she could help me out and she told me she would let my nurse know, which she did. But my nurse just nodded and kept whisper-fighting with her co-worker and ignored my floating back teeth. Finally I sat my groggy self up and started pulling tubes and wires off me as I looked around to see where the bathroom might be. Not that I could see anything because Husband had taken my glasses everything past my nose was a blurry mess. And not that I had a plan once I was not hooked up to anything because not only did I have the nerve block in my leg, which meant my leg wasn't going to do a thing I told it to, but I was totally not allowed to put any weight on the stupid Broken Ankle to get my stupid self to a bathroom.
Good thing my ineffective attempts to free myself from the wires set off an alarm and Nurse decided her whisper-fight could wait.
Why am I babbling about this six weeks later? Well, this morning, while shifting things I haven't dealt with since Broken Ankle happened seven weeks ago from one pile to another, I found this lovely card the surgery team sent me.
A lovely gesture which would be all the more meaningful if I knew who any of these people were!
Honestly, a little note next to each would have been helpful - like, Kim (the only one you remember because she gave you the first drug and drew 'Cut this one' on your leg). Or ??? (the one who stabbed you with the wonderful needle of no pain) Or ??? (the nurse who whisper-fought while you needed to pee.) Because then I could send each of them a personal thank you back, just like my mother taught me. And the one who gave me the nerve block would get a large bottle of booze and a monthly subscription to the chocolate of the month club. Because obviously she was my favorite.
You can just guess what whisper-fight would get. And what finger I'd use to sign the card...
FIVE. MORE. DAYS.
(Of course, because of the power outage and the git who forgot to flick the switch and turn our section back on, it's now TWO. MORE. DAYS!!! I, of course, am not counting today because TWO. DAYS. is MUCH better than THREE. DAYS. And in TWO. DAYS. I get to see my withered ,hairy, smelly mess of a leg maybe be allowed to put some weight on it and begin to walk again. TWO. DAYS!!!)
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me