Post-Op

I'm a little over 1 week post op right now, and had a bit of a meltdown this evening over some grapes.  I'll take it from the beginning so it's easier to explain...

I am a fiercely independent person.  I don't like being "kept", I don't like being "cared for", I like to take care of myself.  I am used to doing my own thing most of the time, and usually the most help that I need on any given day is to make sure that I wake up on time (I'm an alarm-ignorer by nature).  Six years ago, I had Achilles tendon repair surgery in the dead of winter, and despite all of the challenges that go along with crutches on ice, I managed to get through that period without too much stress.  I was working for my parents in their insurance office, so it was easier to manage my time off work because I could pretty much come and go as I pleased.  The house we lived in at the time was a ranch, with a nice-sized full bathroom on the main floor, and hardwood and/or linoleum floors everywhere except for the living room.  Maneuvering around that house was a breeze because I just zipped around in a rolling task chair, bouncing off doorways and walls and doing everything pretty much the same as usual, just on wheels.

Our house now is a two-story with only a 1/2 bath on the main level.  We have hardwood floors in the kitchen, hall, 1/2 bath, and dining room, although there's a threshold bump that separates the kitchen and dining room.  The office and living room both have frieze-style (fluffy) carpet that doesn't lend itself to rolling around much.  I still have my trusty task chair, and have been utilizing it quite a bit over the past week or so.  I've had one shower since the surgery, and have otherwise been taking sponge-baths at the bathroom sink, and washing my hair in the kitchen sink.  I am usually the type of person who likes to shower every morning, so I am getting quite annoyed with this whole experience.  Thursday evening, I finally managed to get up the stairs and get a shower, and I was thrilled!!!  I was also absolutely exhausted afterward, so I have resigned myself to sink baths until I'm a little more mobile.

Today my sister stopped by and picked me and Tyler up to go to lunch at our new favorite place, Puerto Vallarta.  We had a lovely lunch, my nieces were being ornery and adorable as usual, and we returned home without much incident.  I've been having a lot more soreness in my foot over the past few days, and I think that it's going to get worse before it gets better since the bruising is still settling in.   Anyway,  we got home, I took more pain medication, I watched a few episodes of The X-Files (my new fix) and dozed for quite a while.  I woke around 8:30 and wanted something to snack on - something light since we had a big lunch.  I settled on the idea of some fruit, and some string cheese.   I got an apple out of the fridge, and then reached for the grapes.  This is where the fun began... while dragging the grapes out of the fridge I knocked over a container of hummus, and the container cracked when it hit the floor, splattering across in front of the fridge.  Tyler was downstairs watching TV, heard me cussing and rolling around to get paper towels and Windex, and he came up to investigate.  He asked if he could help, and I just sort of lost it...  I remember telling him that "I need to figure out how to do this myself"... then I downshifted my woes into "I'm tired of not being able to take a shower because I smell like fajitas and I can't get upstairs"...   It was just not a fun evening.  All I wanted was to wash off the grapes and apple, and return to my semi-vegetative state on the couch in the living room.  Tyler tried to help, but again I protested because I wanted to do it myself... but then I realized again that I have no means of transporting the food from the kitchen to the sofa if it's on a plate.   I broke down again and sobbed for a few minutes...   it's just not pleasant right now.  I am really looking forward to getting my cam boot, even if that means the start of physical therapy, which will be a LOT of pain and swelling, not to mention the start of the end of my recovery period, and the beginning of my journey to get back to work.   Right now I am not mentally well enough to work - between the pain medications (bouncing between oxycodone and a tramadol-based drug), and also my crumbling independence, I wouldn't be able to talk to a customer if I tried.  I think that my dealings would go something like, "You think you have it bad???  I have a splint up to my knee, I'm on pain meds, and I have to schedule my trips to the bathroom because the crutches are exhausing!  I don't care about your flippin' flooded basement!!!!"