recovery

I'm not sure when the stitches pulled out from my drain.  But the black threads are hanging in the midst of flakes of dried blood from my JP drain attached to a bulb for collection, hanging from underneath my arm.  The tube, however,  is somehow still in my side, and still draining fluids away from the wound, so that this time, it can heal.  It was the fluid, that collected in a pocket under my skin, a seroma, that never resolved and led to the weakening of my incision the last two times. So I am careful again.  Hoping the drain can work, leading the fluid away from my healing incision. 

My entire approach to recovery is much more conservative.  On Saturday, I took a pain pill after a restless night of attempting to turn on my right side, only to feel the tightness and pull of skin stretching, and realizing I had to go left, or stay on my back.  

So when the dull ache set in, I went with pain meds, only to break out an hour or so later.  My face looked sunburned and I itched from head to toe.  As soon as I googled Hydrocodone, I saw it can be a common reaction.  It took two doses of Benadryl for any relief to set in.  But I was a groggy mess the rest of the weekend-  slowly yielding to being very mentally foggy, and quiet. 

So I read a little.  And have streamed a few shows on Netflix.  I even managed a shower, from head-to-toe, and marveled at the cleansing refreshment I've missed for so long.  It was awkward, and disjointed, and I am clearly out of practice, but the simple joy nourished me and I felt so accomplished even while having to tumble into bed to recover for a bit afterwards.

Other than the boys coming and going, and Rick working, its been far too quiet around the house.
I'll see Dr. Antoniuk tomorrow morning.  In the meantime, I'm baby stepping my way, back into the land of living, and hoping, and dreaming again.