Had my sutures removed yesterday morning. All of 'em. I think there were 50 zillion up there. According to the TWO wonderful nurse practitioners who were working on me, I'm healing nicely. Yea me!
Now that I've got this awesome new laptop (I feel he/she deserves a name – Clyde? Clem? Delilah? Peaseblossom?), I've gone back to work, more or less, too. That actually feels good. I mean, YES, there are frustrating aspects (mega vexatious even) and having a six week break would be/should be fab BUT, I need the cabbage and also, the little that I'm doing helps me feel like me again.
I was told NOT to start back up again at the gym for another four weeks. Frankly, I'm only slightly disappointed with this edict. Hells bells, going up the stairs here at home still, 18 days post-slice-age, winds me. I consider it a BFD that I'm now standing versus sitting in the shower.
Today's big event is a trip to the Fuller Craft Museum for a walk around and a bit of shopping for Jen's big bday (which, by the by, is TOMORROW!).
I want/need to step up my PT exercising to once every hour as opposed to four times a day. I wanna be stronger NOW, NOW, NOW!
Normal appearing too. Jen tells me that hair grows at a rate of, about, half an inch a month (she should know, having spent a shit-ton of time chemo hairless). So, I should have a normal-ISH head again in another month and a half. Right now I look very punk – not a bad thing, mind you.
Scars are simply modern battle wounds. Sometimes the enemy happens to be inside us.~ Andrew Grey