Still here. Trying to heal myself up.

Some days have been okay, I have been able to walk downstairs on my own and do a little walking in the house.

Michael was off work until Thursday the 9th to take care of me. I tell you, I don't know what I would do without that Monkey. I could go and list some of the things he's had to do, but there is too much shame. I will be surprised if he could ever look at me in a sexual way again.

Tuesday afternoon I got to have my first real shower. I felt week and dizzy and the five minutes I spent in there seemed like the longest five minutes ever. We opted not to get the shower seat thing that they recommended. I just couldn't see wasting that money. It felt so good to get my hair clean and be able to brush it out really good. I had the makings of a really nice Rastafarian look going. Couple more weeks and my dreadlocks would of been shaping up nicely.

After the shower we removed the bandages covering the incision. I had no idea what to expect from the incision. The bandages went from about 3 inches below where a bra would be to just below the top of my butt crack on both sides(it looked kind of fileted). Thankfully once we removed it (slowly and using baby oil on the taped parts) the incision itself was only about 2 and a half inches long and it is low, easily contained in my granny panties.

So I was home alone on Thursday and Friday. On Friday Michael's mom and grandmother came by to check on me in the afternoon, they also brought over some late Birthday presents. They stayed for about an hour and visited in the bedroom with me.

Friday was the worst day so far. I went downstairs and was hurting bad. I tried to walk around and get it to ease up but it just got worse. I heated up a chicken pot pie and a hot pocket for breakfast (I know) and went back upstairs. About an hour later my back and left leg (the source of all my grief) went into spasm. I was in agony. I tried to call Michael at work but the phone lines were down as they were moving his office that week and it hadn't been completed, and I saw the cell phone sitting on my desk when I came downstairs.

I called the doctors office at about 1 pm, I told them what was happening and they coldly said they would call me back. I felt like a psycho woman. I was crying into the phone when I called and I was convinced that they were not going to help me, but a little bit later the doctor called himself with a nurse on the line and they asked some questions about my progress earlier in the week, asked about my incision and such. He then called in two different medications and a refill for the vicodin. The doctor said we may have to have another MRI and see if there is something else amiss in there. Excuse me?? Couldn't you have seen that when it was cut open in front of you?? Fucker. The thought of having another surgery scares the shit out of me. I don't know if I could be that brave again.

I have been taking vicodin since early Nov and am scared, I know this is highly addictive. Now in addition to the vicodin (pain) and muscle relaxant I am taking another prednisone pack and nuertonin(sp) which is an anti-seizure medicine that they give to epileptics. I guess this is to stop my nerves from freaking out and twitching like they have been.

I am still really freaked out about the leg. Sometimes it is completly numb and feels dead. I have been colder lately than I have ever been, I have always been very hot blooded. It is more than just my big toe now, I think I have lost some more use of my foot. I don't want to type about that anymore because it's making me cry.

I go back to the doctor on Monday so we'll see what happens.

I am impressed that I wrote that with a lot less bitterness than my last post.

It has really depressed me that I haven't been able to participate in Christmas at all, throughout the year we would pick up little things as we saw them, but we are no where near being done. Poor Michael will have to do alot of shopping.

We have ate at home (obviously) for the last week. It has shown on the scale. I didn't weigh myself at home because I was feeling so depressed, but when I pre-registered at the hospital they weighed me. I was up 10 pounds from my highest known weight (but this was dressed with shoes on) and I weighed myself on Thursday and found I was down 14 lbs from when I registered. I know it may just be a fluctuation with the scales, not to mention the shoes and clothes thing (at home I was wearing some shorts and a tank top only) but it was good to see a familiar number (263) on the scale because that was where I was before my back got really bad. Since then I had to give up my exercising and water aerobics and haven't been dieting at all. I know my weight went up more than a few pounds prior to the surgery.

Michael, on the other had has still been going strong on the diet. YAY him!! I will ask the doctor on Monday when he thinks I can start doing real exercises and start that diet again. Hopefully sooner rather than later I just realized that I haven't even popped my head outside for a moment since I came home from the hospital. I am looking so pasty and pale, just like a Flowers in the attic type kid.

Hope everyone is well.