BUI: Blogging under the Influence, or, random stories about my knee surgery
My surgery was two days ago. I'm on lots of Vicodin at the moment. By popular request, I'm blogging under the influence (thanks, Sheila!). At the moment, I'm not supposed to drive, do my taxes, or make important decisions, but I can still blog. So here it is, in no particular order.
Me and my drugs: The surgery itself went fine. I wasn't nauseated afterwards and didn't feel a lot of pain. It reminded me of my experience when i got my wisdom teeth out, so I didn't take enough painkillers after the surgery. (I was supposed to take Vicodin every 3-4 hours) At first, it was no big deal. I took a nap and then hung out with my mom, who was pretty amused by my loopy drugged state. Around 6, T suggested that maybe I ought to take the Vicodin since the other painkillers would be wearing off. I did, but didn't take my next dose until I went to bed 5 hours later. Bad idea. I woke up three hours later with a very sore knee and I had to pee. I nearly fainted on my way back from the bathroom. I got T to go get me some vicodin. Since then, I've had to be pretty careful to take it according to schedule. Last night I took one before bed and was able to sleep the whole night so that was good. I'll see if I can phase back on the medication today.
Me and my helpers: My mom took me over to the hospital, brought me home and stayed with me after the surgery and yesterday afternoon. She's not so good at traditional mom-style babying, but she's really good at distracting me, bringing me flowers and chocolate, raiding my fridge, and fussing over the cats, so she's been a big help. She had the advantage of getting me when I was loopy and cheerful.
T came over to stay with me the night after the surgery. He had the misfortune of getting me when the painkillers wore off in the middle of the night and I was most decidedly not cheerful. He was very solicitous and helpful and managed to get me to eat even though I didn't want to. He got major boyfriend bonus points for that and for reminding me to take my vicodin the night before.
I've got a feline helper too. Rugrat has been on my lap pretty much constantly since I've gotten back. She's figured out not to sit on the knee, She's like my little teddy bear. Sometimes it's nice, and sometimes it's annoying.
"It's not Playboy time!": The anesthesia made me pretty loopy. The nurses seemed to enjoy having a cheerful drugged patient to deal with. When it was time for me to get dressed, the nurse, who was probably in her 50's, told me that she would take out my IV line and then I could get dressed. I got confused and thought she told me to get dressed and then she'd take out the IV. She hadn't closed the curtain but there was no one around so I just started getting dressed. I whipped off my gown and was trying to put my bra on when she came back. "It's not Playboy time!", she said, and closed the curtains. It was pretty funny. She also made jokes about my pasties when she pulled off the little stickers that they used for the monitors.
Anyway, I'm feeling a lot better this morning. I took a sponge bath and washed my hair. I'm going to watch some of the NCAA basketball tournament and try to motivate to do some reading for work. I'm probably still too drugged to work on that paper I'm supposed to write.