I've started in on a cough. Not a big one, but big enough that I was honestly concerned that I would tear. Then I took pain pills until the surgeon's office opened because a side effect of the heavy-duty pain drug I'm on is that it stops people from coughing. I don't like doing that, using drugs off-label like that without seeing a doctor, but I had to get through the weekend. The surgeon's office refused to see me for a cold yesterday, I went to our family physician.
He prescribed me still more pain drugs and said what I'd been doing is a good idea. We sure don't want to upset the surgeon by opening this all up, he told me. Well, ok then... I just don't want to turn into a junkie.
You won't, he said, because you don't have an "addictive personality" and you are using them for a set purpose and a short period of time. I would tend to think a few weeks isn't a short period of time but I am not going to argue with him; I agree I can't be coughing with this huuuge opening in my gut just starting to heal. I just can't.
I also checked in with my surgeon when I saw him today and told him what happened so that he wouldn't think I'm doctor-shopping for drugs. Hey, but if your front office says I need to go somewhere else then that's what I'm going to do. It's just odd, though, seeing the regular doctor over a tiny cough when really it's a surgery-related issue. WHO would care about just going *cough* once or twice an hour otherwise? Not me.
The surgeon told me to stay on the pain pills for about another week and then see if I still have a cough. I like having a set time and also like having all the doctors be able to talk with each other. I don't like not having people know what the other guy is doing and I'm glad there were no professional disagreements. Just take the drugs, lady.
I was going to post what it looks like without the staples in but the whole thing, this whole gash is open and bloody and has LAYERS to it just like looking at the sides of a half-cooked steak. It's THICK like a half-cooked steak, too. I mean, horror movie stuff. I cried when I saw it... I could seriously whip off my shirt in a crowded place and scream that I've been stabbed and people would believe me, that's what it looks like. Huge six-inch long gash, still bleeding a little actually. And that is "normal" for what I've just been through.
Right now I'm on a lifting no more than 10 pounds restriction. But the surgeon said I will never be able to lift more than 40-50 pounds. EVER again. As in, I will never be able to lift my little children again. I am so sad. I can't remember which time was the "last time" I got to pick them up, so I won't be able to have a goodbye picking up. I don't know, that part makes me very sad. And more than that, how am I going to handle things if I have to move to a new city? OR even pick heavy stuff up at Sam's Club? NEVER move over 50 pounds again? How am I going to live like this? People will think I think I'm a princess or something, making everyone else do MY work. But I don't want to be back at the surgeon's place again. These folks can patch you up, but you are never as good as new. Each new patch is really not as good as the last one.
I'm not very happy about this at all, especially with the prospect of what if Woodjie runs away? He doesn't understand about cars. What if I am going on a trip alone? I can't lift my own bag. No fair packing bunches of stuff in different bags; it will still all weigh over 50 pounds. I guess I'm in shock and have no clue how I will live the rest of my life like this. I mean, it's not the worst thing that could happen to someone... there are harder things some people handle in this life... but I'm unhappy about it all. :(