OUCH!

Scenes from my bedroom window

Under extreme stress, when in mega pain, tastes change. My beloved Jamo is now too sweet. Cloying even. Slane is even more so and Glen Morangie is just meh. What’s a whiskey fan to do?

Yes, yez, I KNOW I’m not supposed to be imbibing whilst taking my post surgery painkillers. I am NOT, however, taking Oxycodone anymore. Fucker doesn’t do jack shit for me. Mostly I’m taking Ibuprofen, a little Valium (for muscle spasms and seizures) and Neurontin (Gabapentin – seizure control) at bedtime. Quite the pharma cocktail. I hate having to take pills (beyond vitamins), makes me feel like real weak sister.

I WAS taking Tylenol as well but that shit’s like vaguely, marginally analgesic Pez. Basically fucking useless.

I figured a single shot of the ol’ spīritus frūmentī couldn’t hurt and might even give the pills a boost. Yeah…maybe BUT, right now I’ve lost the taste-love. Ultimately, this is a good thing – less calories, don’cha know.

Did I mention? Jen's watching over me. She's keeping track of all my meds – she has what and when I'm allowed to take shit built into her tinyphone. Jen also dashes over when I text (if not already in da haus), as she did this morning, to provide the allowed supplemental pain zappers. Yes, Jen is more than a saint – she's a motherfucking angel! I don't deserve her. When I allowed as much to her I got a resounding, (yet loving) FUCK YOU. We're two of a kind, only she's the nicer, less kvetchy one.

I learned this taste-change lesson once before – the first time my back was ripped open. Apparently it takes a few damn times for me to get it. I’m real slow like that. dammit.

Progress IS happening though. Yesterday, I showered all by myself (no spotters!), took a slightly longer walk down the seawall and even performed a few doc OKed stretching exercises. YEA me!

Today’s goal is to hit Saint Fratelli’s for a big platter of cookies for the wonderful nurses on Lunder 7. Jen will drive me in and do all the heavy cookie lifting (she’s a goddamned angel – did I mention that already?!). While there, we’ll stop by Felicity’s room to say howdy do. She just had a monster meningioma removed from her frontal lobe by Doc (son of god) Barker. She’s doing great and may be booted home mañana. YEA!

So, though I had a pain-free slumber time last night, I rose with wolverines clawing up my spine. (FYI, it's no fun and, in fact, blows extra-mega-giant Borgovian Sandworm wang. BIG TIME) I’m gonna push through this shit (what choice do I have?), take a hot shower and move, move, move.
Love that comfy bed BUT, ya know, laying about, being a fucking invalid gets old.